In the old days when I was a child,
they used to hang our murderers at the Four-Turnings crossroads.
This is what one moment of passion can bring on a man, Philip.
As long as I can remember old Tom was never anything but dull and honest.
But whatever the cause,
one day there came a moment of uncontrollable anger.
And when it was over,
this is what he had earned for himself.
For this is the price for murder.
That was 15 years ago.
I should have remembered his words.
Death
is the price for murder.
My entire life has been spent on the Cornish coast of England.
There, for more than a hundred years,
stood the solid, comfortable home
in which I grew up from infancy
in the care of my cousin Ambrose.
- What is it? - Open it.
Happy birthday, dear boy.
My parents died when I was but a few months old.
From then on, as long as he lived,
Ambrose was not only my kinsman and guardian
but father, brother, friend, everything in the world to me.
And just two years ago,
on the stormiest night that I can remember,
distant bells began to toll for him.
And now they tell me if I spend another winter in this blasted rain
I'll end up a cripple in a bath chair.
So I must go in search of the sun, I suppose.
Where will you go?
Italy, perhaps.
Somewhere around the Mediterranean.
Well, you'll want me to go with you, won't you?
I'd want you, of course, but I don't think
both of us should be away from here at the same time.
Won't you need someone to
help you in and out of carriages, that sort of thing?
Good heavens no. I'm not exactly an invalid yet.
The real trouble is I'm
too much of a fool about my home. I...
I hate to leave it even for a week.
Well, this must be for months.
And so today the Four-Turnings crossroads
is an even uglier place to me.
It was there that I bade him farewell
for the last time.
This is far enough.You don't want to be late getting back.
Goodbye, dear boy.
Goodbye, Ambrose.
- Goodbye, Louisa. - Goodbye.
Better keep an eye on this one, don't you think? She's
coming along pretty fast now.
Never mind about me. What we want to know is
who's going to keep an eye on you? - What did I tell you?
Drive on.
Goodbye children. I'll see you in the spring.
Goodbye, Ambrose.
God bless you.
But when winter had passed
and we were well into spring again,
and still there was no sign of his returning.
I came to be troubled by strange and formless fears
wholly without reason, but persistent and nagging.
And in some ways, ominous.
Good morning.
Nick!
What news from our tourist now?
Still in Florence.
Can't tear himself away from people he's met there.
Oh, who are they?
Have you ever heard of a family from these parts named Corren?
One of them once married to a member of our family?
Oh yes, I remember the Correns. Why?
He writes that he's met one in Florence.
A countess, Tangeletti, half English, half Italian,
- a widow. - How old is she?
He doesn't say but
middle-aged, I suppose. Married and widowed and so on.
She's been showing him the gardens in Florence.
When's he coming home?
Didn't even mention it, this time.
xxxx
Is it really true, sir?
It is.
- What is it, dear? - Where's your father?
Here I am. What's the trouble?
Another letter.
I want you to hear it yourself.
"My dearest boy, all is not well with me.
"I must keep silent though, she watches me all the time.
"I have written to you several times.
"There is no one here I can trust. Unless I post the letters myself
"they may not reach you.
"Since my illness, this has been more difficult than ever.
"As for the doctors, I have no belief in any of them.
"They are all liars. And the new one recommended by our friend Rainaldi
"I'm sure is a complete cutthroat. But he would be coming from that quarter.
"However, they've taken on a dangerous proposition in me
"And I will beat them yet. Ambrose"
Look at the writing.
I can't believe it.
Not believe what?
It's not the letter of a man in his right senses.
That's not it.
There've been hints before in exactly the same tone.
There is nothing the matter with Ambrose's mind.
You may not know this,
but Ambrose's father died of a tumor on the brain.
It was never a matter much discussed in the family,
And I've no idea whether these things are hereditary or not.
Nor do the doctors seem to know.
The only other possibility I can think of and one which I would prefer
is that Ambrose was drunk when he wrote this letter.
I've never seen Ambrose drunk in my life.
Nor I.
I was merely trying to choose the better of two evils.
Well, whatever the truth, we'll know it soon.
I'm leaving for Florence first thing tomorrow morning.
Pull up a minute, please.
- Isn't that the post bag? - Yes sir?
- Let me see the letters. - Yes, sir.
- Thank you. - Thank you, sir.
Drive on.
Villa Sengeletti?
- Si. - Signor Ashley, is he here ?
No, no, Signor...
Then Signora Ashley?
Excuse me.
- Do you understand English? - Yes, Signor.
Would you be good enough to announce me to Mr. Ambrose Ashley.
Excuse me, Signore, but you are Mr. Ashley's son?
No, his cousin.
Is he here or not?
I'm very sorry, Signore, but he's not.
He's dead.
Since three weeks now.
Would you care for a glass of wine, Signore?
No.
How did he die?
From the fever, Signore.
I mean was it quick... or... or slow.
The illness was long and slow.
But the end was quick.
He fell asleep, truly.
You saw it?
Yes, Signore.
It was very early in the morning
And Sr. Rainaldi sent me for the doctor.
But it was too late.
I, myself, helped the Contessa to light the candles.
And when the nuns are gone, I went back to look at him again.
The violence had all gone, now
And on his face, it was a look of peace.
What do you mean by violence?
During the fever, Signore,
there were many times I had to hold him down in bed.
When the attacks come on,
and when the pain went
he would be dazed,
and heavy,
his mind wandering.
That was the way it was.
The whole winter.
A strong man, as helpless at last...
as a child.
And, uh,
Mrs. Ashley,
is she still here?
No Signore. She moved out the day after the funeral.
Signor Rainaldi thought it best.
Mr. Ashley's things?
- She packed them all up and... - What about this?
She must have overlooked it, Signore.
I see.
And if there's no objection. I'll take it along for myself.
Of course.
And this... Signore Rainaldi.
You say he was of great help and comfort to Mrs. Ashley during her...
ordeal.
He never left the villa during that entire week.
He was their true friend, as well as lawyer.
Where can I find him now?
In the Via Derona, Signore.
Is the first house on the left, after the fountain.
Thank you.
Is this Signor Rainaldi's ?
No, thank you.
Avanti!
Mr. Ashley?
Yes.
Philip Ashley, a kinsman of Ambrose.
I can see the resemblance.
Will you have a chair, sir?
I've just come from the Villa Sangaletti, Mr. Rainaldi.
I know. You have Ambrose's stick.
You have no objection, I trust?
How could i?
It would have been sent to you, anyway.
It was in that empty house, Mr. Rainaldi, and from the lips of a servant
that I first learned of the death of my cousin.
I regret the circumstances, I assure you.
Why was I not informed at least of his illness?
Your cousin's death was quite sudden, Mr. Ashley.
Not so sudden that he hadn't time to write me these letters.
Yes, she was afraid that he might have written something like this.
The doctors warned her he might.
Why did they warn her?
Because of his behavior which became
quite strange and secretive during those last few weeks.
Without reason, of course.
On the contrary.
With a very good reason.
The tumor, they said, was beginning to press on his brain.
They said he had a tumor?
That was the cause of his death.
May I ask what proof there is of that?
Certainly.
This is a copy of the certificate of death, signed by both doctors.
A second copy was posted to you at the time
And a third to the trustee of your cousin's will,
Mr. Nicholas Kendall in Cornwall.
How did you know Mr. Kendall was the trustee of the his will?
I read it in the will.
- You read my cousin's will? - Certainly, he showed it to me.
May I ask how he disposed of the estate?
In effect, to you.
All of it?
In trust, I believe, until your 25th birthday.
What about her?
There was no mention of Mrs. Ashley in the will filed for probate.
She'll take action, of course, to break it.
On the contrary,
I've already written Mr. Kendall our entire approval of its terms.
I wish I could say that your
explanation of his illness satisfied me
but it doesn't.
Regardless of those doctors, regardless of that paper,
those are not the letters of a man simply sick.
They are the letters of a man in danger
surrounded by enemies.
Sick not only in body, but in mind, too, remember.
He was failing fast.
What of this? "She has done for me at last. Rachel, my torment."
What explanation do you have for that?
Are you any sort of student of medical history, Mr. Ashley?
Of course not.
There is a particular affliction of the brain, in the case of a tumor
or similar growth,
which results in the sufferers becoming troubled with delusions
"He fancies, for instance, that he's being watched,
"that the person nearest to him, such as his wife,
"is either turned against him,
"or is unfaithful or seeks to take his money.
"No amount of love or persuasion
"can relieve him of this suspicion once it takes hold."
If you don't believe me or this book, which you may take with you,
ask an English doctor, your own, perhaps.
Then why didn't she send for me?
If Ambrose had lost faith in her,
why not send for the one closest of all to him?
- You're very young... - My age is not the question here!
Why was I not sent for at once?
I wished only to make the point that I am older than you
And have probably had more experience with women.
The Contessa is a woman of very strong feelings.
And such women do not acknowledge defeat easily.
They cling to the things they want.
They never surrender, actually.
Where is she now?
I have no idea.
She left Florence yesterday, without telling me where she was bound.
When she wishes me to know where she is, she will write to me.
Is there anything more I may do for you, while you're here?
No, thank you.
If you wish to see the grave before you leave
it's in the protestant cemetery.
The stone ordered by Mrs. Ashley is already in place, I believe.
When she returns,
tell her I was here.
Tell her for me I went to the villa and heard how Ambrose died.
And tell her also about the letters he wrote to me.
I will. If she returns.
But Mrs. Ashley is also a woman of impulse
and there is no assurance that she will come back to Florence.
Good day, sir.
There beside his grave, I made a vow.
I swore that whatever it had cost Ambrose in pain and suffering,
I would return it in full measure.
Because I did not believe Rainaldi's story.
I believed in the truth of the two letters that I held in my right hand.
Someday, somehow, I would repay my cousin Rachel.
I must say, you're a great deal prompter than I've been accustomed to with you.
- We raced. - It's the only way to get him on time.
- Will you be long? - I don't think so.
Excuse me, I'll change and we'll have some tea.
- Such mystery - Don't look at me,
I don't know what it is.
Well.
Philip.
- I've odd news for you. - Yeah?
Mrs. Ashley is here.
- In this house? - In Plymouth.
She arrived by ship two days ago.
She writes to tell me of Ambrose's death.
Apparently she knows nothing of your visit to Florence.
I think you should read it. I think it would impress you.
What's she after? A settlement?
No. She only wants to return the remainder of Ambrose's possessions.
His books, his papers. Old clothes.
She wants to bring them here herself, I suppose.
To judge from this letter, the one from Rainaldi last week,
she wants nothing more of us, not one shilling.
Although, as the widow,
she might properly make some kind of claim on the estate.
Claim? After driving him to his death?
That's a very foolish thing to say, Philip.
And I wouldn't repeat it, if I were you.
If ever she heard such a charge,
she would be well within her rights to bring a case against you for slander.
Well,within her rights.
If Ambrose had thought she deserved it.
he would have left his wife the whole estate, in fact.
Unless he was too ill to recognize his obligations.
You don't believe that story of the tumor?
I do now, yes.
Here is the record, here is Rainaldi's,
and here is the death certificate.
In addition to which, I remember Ambrose's father's death.
The symptoms were quite similar.
Well, you may, but I don't, not for a minute.
You mean you won't.
She doesn't even ask to see the house,
the house that would have been her home, had Ambrose lived.
Instead of which, a lonely hostelry in Plymouth.
You touch me, Nick.
I'm sorry, Philip.
As Ambrose's friend, I can't sit here and do nothing
when his widow arrives alone and friendless in this country.
I shall invite her to come here and stay with us.
Until her plans are formed.
I know you won't want to see her
So if she accepts my invitation,
I won't ask you over while she's here.
On the contrary. I'd like very much to see her.
Perhaps you'll write that to her.
Tell her that Philip Ashley is rather a plain man
living in rather a plain fashion with no fine manners whatsoever.
But if she wishes to see him, and her late husband's home,
the house will be completely at her disposal whenever she cares to visit.
You think for one moment she'd accept an invitation like that?
Send it along, and we'll see whether she will or not.
Welcome, Mrs. Ashley.
Thank you, Seecombe.
She has come, sir.
She was due here at 5. It's nearly 7. I should hope she has.
Did you explain I was too busy to be here to meet her?
She said she understood, sir.
- Where is she now? - In her room, sir.
Am I to understand that she's dined without waiting for me?
Oh, no sir. She had a tray in her room.
She was very tired after the journey, and asked that you excuse her this evening.
She told me to tell you that if you wish to see her after dinner
she'd be pleased receive you.
- In her room? - Yes sir.
Thank you.
Come in.
Good evening.
Why!
How are you, Philip?
I.. Uh.. Hope you feel better now.
Very much, thank you. Will you sit with me for a few minutes?
I owe you an apology for not coming down to dinner
after you had gone to so much trouble to make the house beautiful for me,
but I was very tired and dull.
It's quite all right, I understand.
I do hope you didn't hurry home.
No the.. Uh.. Work was all quite done.
You mustn't, believe me,
make any kind of alteration in your days because of me.
I just wanted to say one thing... which is...
thank you, Philip, for letting me come.
It can't have been easy for you.
You are quite welcome, I'm sure.
You've no idea what a strange feeling it was
driving through the park and up to the house
with Seecombe standing by the door to greet me.
Everything was just as I had mentioned it:
the hall, the pictures,
even the clock striking four as I came in the door.
Was Don really fourteen on his last birthday?
Yes.
His birthday if a few weeks before my own.
I know. You found him in a pie for your breakfast.
Ambrose watched you open it from behind a screen in the dining room.
He said he'd never forget your look of amazement
when you lifted the crust and a puppy struggled out.
What an amazing thing for you to know.
Why I probably know a good many more things about you than you'd ever imagine.
Yes?
Thank you, Seecombe.
Shall I take the dog out now ma'am?
I suppose so.
Come on, Don.
What about breakfast, ma'am?
Mr. Philip has his in the dining room at 8 o'clock.
Would it be too much trouble for me to have mine in my room?
Not at all, ma'am.
I'll ring when I'm awake.
Very good, ma'am. Will there be anything else?
No, thank you. Goodnight.
Goodnight, sir.
Ambrose used to say no woman was fit to look at before eleven.
Would you like a cup?
I can hardly believe it!
Believe what?
My eyes. I've never seen Seecombe serve tea before in my life.
He did it very well, don't you think?
I'll show you something else.
I've never seen this tray before,
nor the teapot, nor the kettle.
I didn't think you had.
I saw that look on your face when he entered.
- And I'll tell you something else, too. - What?
I don't think he'd ever seen them before, either.
That butter's melting. You'd better lick your fingers.
Would you like to smoke now?
- In here? - If you'd like to.
I would indeed.
When Mrs. Pascoe comes we don't even smoke in the drawing room.
This is not a drawing room.
It's a boudoir.
And I'm not Mrs. Pascoe.
I thought women minded about such things.
They do when there's nothing better to worry about.
This was aunt Phoebe's room, wasn't it?
- Was it? - Before you were born.
It may have been.
All I remember of aunt Phoebe is simply a name.
Ambrose never told you of her great romance?
Why, no.
Aunt Phoebe got lovesick of the curate
and went away to Tunbridge to mend her broken heart.
But the heart proved stubborn and Aunt Phoebe took a chill that lasted 20 years.
Are you sure you haven't heard of this?
Never. What happened then?
The chill left her after 20 years at the sight of another curate
But by then she was five and forty
and her heart was not so brittle so she married the second curate.
And.. Uh.. Was the marriage a success?
No. As a matter of fact, she died on her wedding night.
But I think I better not tell you the circumstances
until we've known each other a little longer.
Well?
I can't tell. She's got a veil on.
I'm afraid the service won't go on until you lift your veil.
Oh, I'm sorry.
By George, that's a good-looking woman.
Quite young, too.
I remember, too, another custom he was fond of.
Sunday lunch with the Kendalls and the Pascoes.
And I wonder, with Philip's permission,
if we might enjoy it together today.
- Will you join us? - Oh, we should be delighted.
Then if Louise would be willing to drive back with Philip,
perhaps Ambrose's oldest friend
would invite me to ride with him in his carriage.
Nothing would give me greater happiness, Mrs. Ashley.
Thank you, Mr. Kendall.
We'll see you soon, then.
- Will you? - Oh, dear me, indeed!
Well, what did she say?
About what?
Didn't you charge her?
Not yet.
Haven't you said anything at all to her about the way he died?
No.. Uh.. I haven't had the right opportunity.
But... I thought that's why you invited her here.
It is, and I intend to at the right moment.
She's not the sort of person I thought she'd be.
You've seen that for yourself.
She's very beautiful.
You really think so?
But middle-aged, of course.
Quite 35 I should say.
- Wouldn't you? - I have no idea. I couldn't care less.
She could be 99 for all I know.
At 99 women don't have eyes like that,
or that complexion,
Nor do they dress like that.
Or look so well in the morning.
I love the stillness of a room after a party, don't you?
You weren't bored?
They couldn't have been pleasanter.
And your Louise is charming.
She'll make you an excellent wife.
Louise is dear, but she's not mine.
She's still only a child now.
At your age, I'd suppose you think that.
- You teasing me? - Not in any way.
It's just that I'm very happy.
It's been a wonderful visit for me.
It's not over, is it?
But of course. I came only for the weekend.
You forget I have a new life to make for myself.
Why did he never make another will?
Do you know?
Does that matter now?
The fact remains that I can't afford to be idle.
I must look for work of some kind.
In London I suppose.
But you'll invite me down again, won't you?
I don't know.
You don't know?
I mean I don't know whether you want to come again or not.
I'm afraid I haven't been honest with you.
How do you mean?
I should have told you, I suppose, that
Ambrose wrote to me during his illness.
Did you know that?
No.
He wanted me,
he begged me
to come to Florence
to help him.
But I arrived there too late.
Have you been to Florence?
Yes.
When? How long ago?
I spent one night there. The night of august 15th.
Right after I left.
So... Rainaldi told me.
Why didn't you tell me?
Why have you let me stay here without mentioning such a thing?
I thought at first you knew.
What did he tell you?
I think you should read them yourself.
The long one came first,
Then the short one.
- Only these two? - That's all.
How you must have hated me!
Yes.
Why did you ask me here?
- To accuse you. - Of what ?
I'm not sure.
Perhaps of breaking his heart.
Which would be murder, wouldn't it?
And then?
I hadn't planned beyond that.
I knew only that I wanted to make you suffer,
and to watch you while you suffered.
And then I suppose to
let you go.
Then it was merciful of you.
More merciful than I should deserve.
If that was what you wanted,
Watch me...
Watch me now...
Watch me as much as you wish!
Rachel.
Please!
That's no use either,
When we both remember what he wrote.
I can forget
if you will
But why should you?
How do you know different?
Because you are not that women. You're not the woman I hated.
That was someone who existed only in his...
poor, sick mind.
That's very generous of you, Philip
I was a fool.
No. Not at all.
Someday, when i'm not so tired, I'd like to tell you about it.
About Ambrose and myself,
And our marriage.
As much of it as I understand anyway.
I'd never even met a man like this,
strong, tender, without conceit of any kind.
I think for the first time in my life I knew what peace was.
Most, for him.
He was like someone sleeping
who'd wakened suddenly
and found the world with all its beauty
and sadness, too.
Guido Rainaldi,
whom he detested as much as you probably do,
Guido told me once, that Ambrose wakened to me
as some men waken to religion.
But a woman, unhappily, is not religion.
She's a human being with human thoughts.
And she shouldn't be judged by the same rules.
He expected too much of you?
Her halo can be a lovely thing,
but she much be able to take it off now and again,
And be human occasionally.
In any case-Finally-Religion doesn't always improve a person.
And waking to the world didn't help Ambrose.
He changed.
His nature changed.
How?
That's a question I wish, from the bottom of my heart,
I could answer.
The doctors said it was his illness.
That out of pain and fear, these deep hidden thoughts
And suspicions came at long last to the surface.
But how can I be sure?
That it wasn't something in me that brought them out.
Will you get a candle and light me upstairs?
Of course.
Thank you.
You're quite sure you don't hate me now?
Why should I?
I'm very glad for it. Goodnight.
He's penniless, I'm sure.
That Italian friend of hers was a little vague about it,
but Ambrose wrote, if you remember,
that everything she possessed, including the villa,
would have to be sold to pay off Sangaletti's debts.
She's certainly entitled to something.
How much would you suggest?
Five thousand pounds a year.
Five thousand?
To be paid to her quarterly from the day of Ambrose's death.
You don't think that's a trifle overgenerous?
How can one be overgenerous with property that might have been due her anyway?
Very well.
If you insist, I'll direct the bank to make the payments.
A sum like that...
It's almost better than being mentioned in the will.
To my distant, but very dear, cousin.
To mine, with a heart full of love and gratitude.
And now...
Before the others arrive.
Merry christmas, dear Rachel.
Now?
If you will.
Philip, darling.
Put it on.
The most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life.
Thank you, darling.
Forgive me Mrs. Ashley, but I really must comment on it.
That's the most beautiful pearl necklace I've ever seen.
Thank you. It's a very proud possession.
Philip...
I've had a communication from the bank
which I find decidedly disturbing.
Yes.
It seems that in less than three months
your cousin Rachel has overdrawn her account more than double.
Well?
You don't regard that as an extraordinary situation?
Why should i?
What she does with her money is no affair of ours.
Well, I do.
And the only explanation I can find is that
she's sending the money out of the country.
Whatever she does with it
the only important point is that what we gave her was not enough.
That's ridiculous.
We know she had debts and she's a generous woman.
I want you to increase her allowance at once,
And, in addition, to issue a check to cover that overdraft.
Philip, you're being very wayward.
I've been constantly worried, in fact, by the direction
in which your emotions have been carrying you recently.
The county, for one thing, has not failed to note
the length of your cousin's stay in this house.
I'm not interested in the gossip of old women.
For another, you had no right to take that necklace
from the family collection
It was not yours, and won't be for another three months yet.
What of it? It'll be mine then won't it?
The entire estate will be yours then.
But until then, not one item of it.
Very well, I've loaned to her for three months.
Is there any harm in that?
I don't know. I'm not sure.
What are you suggesting, that she might take it and sell it?
Quite by chance recently
I've come to learn a little more about your cousin Rachel.
Such as what?
It happened I came across some old friends who've been
wintering in France and Italy over a period of years.
It seems they met your cousin when she was married to Sangaletti.
And?
Both were notorious for unbridled extravagance,
and their own tell points, loose living.
The duel in which Sangaletti died was fought because of another man.
These people said...
Don't you ever talk to anyone but gossips?
These people said, that when they heard of Ambrose's marriage
to the countess Sangaletti, they were horrified.
They predicted she would run through his fortune in a matter of months.
I'm sorry to have to tell you all this, Philip.
But my friends are responsible people they're not given to idle gossip.
I've never heard anything so despicable!
Who are these people, anyway?
All that's important for the moment, is that necklace.
You know its tradition very well.
You must explain this to her and ask her to return it to the collection.
Not in a thousand years.
- Then I must do it for you. - I forbid you, sir.
You will not talk to Mrs. Ashley on the subject.
The necklace is now hers.
Philip, you are very young, very impressionable.
And I quite understand your wanting to give your cousin some token of esteem,
But family jewels are rather more than that,
particularly that necklace.
So as your guardian and executor of the estate
I must be firm about it.
If you won't ask Mrs. Ashley to return it, I shall.
I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing.
But I assure there's no need for either of you to be embarrassed.
It was dear of Philip to let me wear this for the evening.
But quite right of you, Mr. Kendall, to insist on its return. Here.
Here !
- I shan't forget this, Nick. - Philip, please.
You mustn't mind, really.
I was proud to have worn it for even that once.
- I wanted you to wear it for always. - I know.
But that stupid, unspeakable old...
You're acting like a child. It doesn't matter, I assure you. Not in the least.
I'm not a child. I must ask you to remember that.
But I do, I do, darling.
I'm five and twenty all but three blasted months.
I object to any further patronage from anybody.
My mother wore those pearls on her wedding day.
Before that, my aunt.
Before that, my grandmother.
Don't you realize why I wanted you to wear them, too?
Bless you.
At last!
Good evening, sir.
We've been waiting for you. You remember Guido, of course.
- Of course. - I must apologize
for coming without an invitation.
But then, neither did I expect you, when you called on me.
You're welcome here, sir.
He should be scolded, though.
Imagine his being in England a week without letting me know.
I couldn't be more surprised when he walked in.
Will you have glass, Philip?
Thank you, no, I...
I think I should bathe and change first, if you'll excuse me.
Hurry, and we'll see you at dinner.
- I'm not certain, uh... - Now, Philip?
It's a pleasure to see you here, sir.
It's very good of you to say so.
He reminds me of only of one person.
May I ask what that is?
Tisane. Guido's favorite tisane.
Which he says nobody can make as well as myself.
No one can make any tisane so well as your cousin.
I'm sure she knows more about herbs than any other person in the world.
Yes, but what is it, a tisane?
I'm sorry, I should have introduced you to it long before now.
It's a tea made from herbs, a mixture of herbs.
In Italy, it's a very ancient art
With endless variations in flavor and strength and purposes, etc.
Some of it for pleasure, some for the health.
Ambrose loved it, and if you like it, we'll have it again.
For this young man it must always be for pleasure.
For I can imagine no one standing less in need of more health.
Have you ever had an illness in your life.
Not that I can remember.
Doesn't it worry you?
Why should it?
Because such people are so often the first to go when finally they are stricken.
Haven't you heard that?
I'm unalarmed by the situation.
It is probably all this violent riding and walking and swimming
that young Englishmen do. It develops the wrong portion of the body.
Now. In Italy...
Would you figure this, Philip?
Guido and I have a good deal of rather dull business to discuss.
And I believe it can be done more conveniently upstairs.
- Certainly. - Will you join us later?
I'm afraid not, thank you. I'm rather tired, really.
If you change your mind, come in at any time.
It is very kind of you to have me as a guest in your home.
I trust that... you'll be comfortable.
And I must thank you for all you have done for your cousin.
She wrote to me about the allowance.
You might be pleased to know that that was precisely what
she had planned for you, if the other will had been signed.
What other will?
She didn't tell you?
No one's told me of any other will.
Then perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it.
Nevertheless there was one, with a more normal arrangement.
He left all this, the entire estate, to his widow.
But unfortunately by the time it was drawn and copied
Orlando's collapse was complete, and it was never signed.
You still have a copy though, of course.
No. We destroyed it.
You'll pardon me. May I ask you what sense you use the word "we?"
Is it royal or domestic?
Neither, sir, it's legalistic.
For lawyer and client.
Though I confess, I expect some day to be able to use it in a sense more intimate.
When that day comes I shall be happy to congratulate you.
Thank you, sir. Your graciousness helps me to understand
We both regret your cousin will leave here.
If and when she does.
I understand.
Goodnight, sir.
Goodnight.
You'll have to go further than this to skip me.
How did you know I was here?
You're always here when you're angry with me.
We'll have to go back. It's far too cold for you here.
Not if we sit close, and you put your arms around me.
- You didn't come to say goodnight. - You didn't really expect me to.
I waited up for you till after eleven.
With your friend?
A good hour after I'd sent him up to bed.
Is that true?
But of course. Why do you ask that?
Where is he now?
On his way back to London.
I'm terribly sorry.
You're a goose.
You really do think me a fool, don't you?
I told you not to say that. It's absurd.
I become fonder and fonder of you, in fact, each day that passes.
And each day that passes,
I'm more and more determined that I shall never let you leave here.
Date it today, if that's necessary,
but make it effective tomorrow, which is my birthday.
Very well.
At midnight tonight, the property becomes mine absolutely,
and there can be no objections whatever from anyone as to what I do with it.
I've never heard of such a thing before in my life.
Never!
You've never before heard of a wrong being righted?
You're quite determined on this?
Quite.
Does she know about it?
Nothing whatever. The idea is mine and mine alone.
But isn't it possible to satisfy your love or your conscience or whatever it is
with something less than the entire estate?
What if this was what Ambrose himself intended.
Until he became too ill to arrange it.
We don't know that. Not for a fact.
No, but I knew Ambrose, and so did you.
Would he have done anything less for the woman he loved?
No. Not if he still loved her.
If you let me sign?
I'm sorry Philip,
But I can't help regarding this as the completest folly.
I wish now she'd never come to England.
Ah, but if there's nothing i can say to dissuade you
Sign here and I'll witness it.
There are some women, good women very possibly.
Who, through no fault of their own, impel disaster.
Whatever they touch, somehow turns to tragedy.
Rachel!
Wake up, Rachel
This is not the time for sleeping, girl.
Wake up and come to the window.
Or do you want me to come in and wake you up?
Here, Philip.
- Yes, Rachel. - What are you doing at this hour?
I wanted you to look at the moon and smell the fragrance of spring in the air.
But you've been drinking.
Only at the springs of love.
Here, catch this.
I'll do no such thing!
Catch it, I tell you.
I do believe you must be really mad.
Now pull it.
- It's heavy. - Pull hard.
What is it?
I'll show you.
You idiot! You'll fall and hurt yourself.
Only a clod would walk up stairs on such a night.
A man in love would scale the wall.
Oh, do be careful, please!
Have you taken leave of your senses?
Perhaps. And never happier.
Please, Philip. You can't do this. You must leave at once.
- Don't you know what the day is? - It's not day.
and if it's your birthday you mean, that's tomorrow
And when do you think tomorrow begins?
- Now, you can't mean... - Listen!
- So now it's all yours? - No.
Yours.
I'm cold.
Stand by the fire.
You remember what your mother told you, must happen on a birthday ?
- Your hair is wet. - I've been swimming in the sea.
Philip, how could you in this weather?
- Do you remember? - Non,
but it was something foolish, I'm sure.
Well, on a man's birthday, his every wish must be granted.
No, no, that's not it at all.
That's exactly what you told me not two weeks ago.
Only up to the age of ten.
There was no such restriction.
Then there is now. Up to the age of ten and not one day older.
Very well, then, suppose this time we reverse it.
The celebrator will try to grant you every wish.
Whatever you want.
Home.
Money.
Perhaps these to help you, while you decide.
Are you out of your mind, Philip?
No, and far from it.
It's only that it's my 25th birthday, and everything I have
is yours.
Let me have your hand.
And this.
This is impossible, darling.
No. This is right.
They belong on you.
And as to this,
you can read it later.
What is it?
Take it.
No, Philip.
This home. This land. Everything.
Which had always been yours, anyway.
Philip, darling.
If I owned the world, it would be yours, too.
And all I have for you
is a little pin for your cripethet.???
Blessed creature.
Remember once I told you
there was nothing else I needed in the world but
the warmth and comfort of these four walls.
I remember.
I was wrong.
I know now that it is something else.
Are you
very sure of that?
More sure than of anything else on earth
Of all his willfulness,
of all that he provokes and bewilders me at times
my regard for you, Philip, only increases with the years.
Your errors have never been mean nor selfish,
My guardianship is ended today but I rejoice to think,
you will never cease to be my godson.
To your five and twenty years, dear boy.
Long life and happiness.
To you, Philip.
Thank you, ladies.
My dear Louise.
My dearest Rachel.
Now I, too, have a toast that I wish you to drink tonight.
Since this morning I've been the happiest of men.
I want you, godfather and you Louise,
to drink to Rachel, who is to be my wife.
Have you lost your senses, Philip?
I'm sorry if it was premature to break the news, but
it's my birthday, and
these are my oldest friends.
I hope you can forgive this piece of schoolboy folly
and forget it if you can.
The day and the wine seem to have gone to Philip's head.
He'll apologize for his insuffigate.
Shall we go to the drawing room ?
I thought you'd gone to bed.
Not before I had begged your forgiveness.
You may go now, before you think up some other mischief to do.
I won't betray us.
Betray us? What a shameful thing to say.
You make me feel like a servant creeping up to some attic with a groom.
- I said, will you let me pass? - Were you ashamed
last night when you gave me your promise.
What promise?
To marry me, of course.
I promised to marry you last night?
But you couldn't possibly have misunderstood.
What else could have I asked that was important to me.
Whatever you may have thought,
I gave you no such promise, nor anything like it.
Then, then, let me ask you now in the plainest of language.
Will you marry me?
No, Philip, and you may take that as final and forever.
- Will you let me pass? - But I know you loved me.
It couldn't have been pretense.
That was last night, Philip, and you had given me the jewels.
I was trying to be what else handicaff.
You have my heart, my mind, the property, the money, the jewels
My name you already had.
Now leave me. You understand?
What are you going to do, lecture me?
No. I just thought you might want to talk about it.
It was my fault, last night.
I don't believe that.
What you said was the truth. Or you wouldn't have said it.
I know that.
I misunderstood her.
You may have,
But not I. Ever.
How d'you mean that?
Why do you think she came here, all that long distance from Florence?
All that was obvious.
It was a pilgrimage to Ambrose's home.
No, no, Philip.
It wasn't sentiment And it wasn't idle curiosity.
She'd quite another purpose in mind and now it's accomplished.
I don't understand.
If you had been stronger, she'd have never stayed here.
She'd have called in my father, settled for a sum, and gone.
Can't you see that yet?
If that's what you have to tell me, we can stop talking.
You've never liked her.
Why has she been sending her allowance out of the country this winter?
How can you say this when you couldn't possibly be sure?
But I do say it, and it is a fact.
My father and the bank know what she's been doing with her money.
She had debts in Florence. I've known that all along.
But now don't you see, she no longer needs to bleed you bit by bit.
Because suddenly you've given her what she set out to get.
Everything.
May I see you to your carriage?
Do you really love her, then, that much?
I've already asked her to marry me twice.
And when the time is right, I intend to ask her again.
- I simply cannot believe... - She'll never marry you, Philip.
Perhaps. - Do you know why
she brought that document to my father?
Yes. Some of it wasn't altogether clear to her.
One point in particular.
Which was that?
The conditions of remarriage.
There can't have been any misunderstanding about that.
It states that if she
remarries while i'm alive, the estate simply reverts to me.
If she married me, the condition would have no meaning.
Why wouldn't it?
Because she'd still share in it. It would be ours together.
You're can't be saying that she wouldn't marry me
because she'd no longer own the property.
No, but remember this
A wife may cannot take her husband's money into another country, such as Italy.
Nor can she, herself, wander away whenever the impulse seizes her.
Beyond that, I suggest nothing.
Good day.
Philip, how can you be so blind?
How can you let yourself be torn and shamed and humiliated?
Don't you understand? Because I love her!
It isn't a little loving. It isn't a fancy. It isn't something you'd turn on and off.
It's everything I think and feel and want.
And there's no room in me for anything else.
Now, is it clear to you!
Why three?
The mistress said there'd be a third for dinner, sir.
Come in.
Oh, look Philip.
Mrs. Ashley has found the most exquisite design for the sunken garden.
It's Italian, of course, but
this should be, could very well be the one below this house. Don't you think?
Won't you look at it?
She's so clever, really, to have found an arrangement so suitable.
Quite nice and charming.
You'll be pleased to hear that Mary's going to be with us for a while now.
Oh, and such a surprise, Philip.
When she came to fetch me, the others were quite green with envy.
Do you play cribbage?
I'm afraid not.
Well, then I'll teach you.
I'll teach you both. You'll be wild for it.
Tonight after dinner, if you wish.
May I speak to you alone?
I don't see the need.
You're quite free to say anything in front of Mary.
Oh, oh, I'm sorry. I must go to my room anyway.
You needn't really.
Oh, but I must, to get ready for dinner.
Will you leave the doors open please, so you can hear if I call?
Why, yes, indeed I will.
Why have you done this?
You know perfectly well why.
You know it was not in the least necessary.
One such display of violence is enough, thank you.
I don't think I care to be alone with you again.
There are matters here that can't be settled
in a moment's conversation like this with the doors open.
Can't I come back here,
later after she's gone to bed?
No.
- How long is she to stay? - As long as I choose.
I won't deny to order her out myself?
I can't really imagine your being so impertinent
as to order a guest of mine out of my house.
Are you ill, sir?
I have a headache.
The ladies are in the drawing room. Will you be coming down for dinner?
No. No. I'll see you in the morning.
You shouldn't have ridden out in weather like today.
I knew you'd be sorry for it.
I'll tell the mistress that you're not well.
Rachel!
Mr. Philip!
My headaches.
Has gone promiscuous.
Rachel?
- What is it? - Send her away, will you?
Isn't the doctor here yet?
I won't harm you, I promise you I won't
Running at midnight, eh?
And in this weather.
He shouldn't have ridden out yesterday, either.
It's my head!
I've seen this fever before.
Children died of it.
You must do something quickly, doctor.
Is that how I died?
Ambrose!
My dear Philip.
My headaches.
Ambrose.
I know, dear. I know, dear. But take this and it'll be better soon.
Drink it all.
Don't ever leave me, please. I won't.
- Will you promise? - I do.
But you promised me, you'd come back to me.
No, nobody's going.
I won't, darling, ever.
But you said you'd marry me.
No, Guido, I can't.
Not while Philip lives.
My blessed Rachel. I do love you so.
Not more than I love you, darling.
Will you marry me, now?
I will.
With the happiest of hearts.
Well. At long last. How do you feel?
Strange.
Very strange.
I shouldn't wonder. You've been very ill for a long time.
So welcome home again.
- How long? - More than three weeks.
It's not possible.
This is a few day's growth.
Good heavens.
Would you like a mirror?
Huh, huh, no thank you.
I feel like Rip Van Winkle.
You'll be all right again, soon.
What was the matter with me?
On the continent, we called it meningite
But none of the doctors here, seemed ever to have heard of it.
And how did they treat it?
We worked it out together.
I told them what I had seen done, and they did it.
Such as puncturing the spine, to take out the fluid,
And letting into your blood a serum I made of herbs.
You don't remember that?
No.
You're an amazing woman.
In what respect, now?
Are you an apothecary, too?
No.
Would you like anything to eat?
No. But I am thirsty.
Good. I have a cold drink here.
Made from limes sent down from London.
I feel very sorry for you.
Why for me?
For having such a poor, weak stick of a husband on your hands.
Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?
No. It's only to the sunken garden.
I want to surprise Mrs. Ashley.
She said I wouldn't be able to walk alone for another week yet.
But she's not there. She left for Plymouth this morning.
You don't know what you're talking about.
I heard her make the appointment with the man in change.
Come on, don.
- How are you, Tamblyn? - Well, sir, thankee.
And glad I am to see you out again. Looking so wonderful strong, too.
I'm feeling better.
- Trevor. - Mr. Philip
What's the matter with the tree? Dead?
No, sir, we're moving it to the old orchard.
It's getting so big, it's dropping its seed over the fence into the meadow.
I don't want the cattle to get hold of any.
The laburnum seed's poison, you know.
They grow in Italy too.
Really, sir?
Yes. I saw several in Mrs. Ashley's grounds in Florence.
Must be wonderful climate.
I can understand the mistress wishing to return there.
But she doesn't anymore.
No, sir? I'm glad to hear that.
We hear different.
That she was just waiting to see you get well again before she went.
No, this is to be her home from now on.
- Have you seen her this morning? - No, sir.
Good morning, Collin.
Oh, Mr. Ashley, sir. I must say it's good to see you out and around again.
Very much, indeed.
How's it coming along?
Oh, well enough I suppose, sir.
But it will be more difficult than we thought.
And how's that?
The underpinnings are rotten, sir.
They'll have to be replaced.
Can you brace it ?
Well, we can on Monday, sir. When we get some more timber up here.
But meanwhile, I think you should warn everyone in the house not to use it.
That's a long drop down there to those rocks.
I will, though nobody ever uses it anyway.
Did you tell Mrs. Ashley?
Why, I haven't seen her, sir.
I expected her, but she hasn't been around here this morning.
All right, I'll tell her.
Good evening, Seecombe.
Good evening, madam.
Philip, dear, I'm so pleased to see you down here.
Not only down here, but about on the grounds, too.
Alone?
Yes. I looked for you.
I'm terribly sorry. I went into Bodmin to do some shopping.
I should have told you.
Bodmin?
Yes, I needed some lace.
But, I thought you said Plymouth?
I'm sorry sir, I had it from Wellington
who thought that it was to be Plymouth again.
I tried to last week, but I couldn't find what I wanted.
What about the headache?
Not today. No sign of one.
Oh, I'm so glad.
- First day this week without one. -Perhaps they're all gone at last.
I hope so.
I heard some gossip today, that I don't quite like.
What are they saying now?
That you're going back to Florence.
Of course. But not till you're well.
You mean you going back to sell the villa.
Oh no, there's not need to do that now.
- I can afford to keep it now. -Then why would you be going?
Can't we wait until you're better, to discuss that?
You mean you'd want to spend the winter there?
Possibly, or the late summer.
There's a good deal of work piled up here since I've been ill.
I don't know that I should leave here as soon as that.
I don't know that you should, either.
But you might like to come down in the spring for a visit.
I must still be somewhat slow-witted, but
is that how you expect us to live, with long separations and visits?
Please, Philip, I've asked you not to talk about the future yet.
We still have all the time in the world for that.
But I promise you, I'll not leave here until you're entirely well.
Why should you leave here at all? This is your home now?
But so is Florence. That's where most of my friends are.
My villa
and a certain life that I'm more accustomed to actually than life here.
I'm sure you must understand that I can't help but miss it.
I suppose so.
I just hadn't thought of it like that.
I find I am a little tired after all.
You poor dear. Of course you are.
Come on. We'll go up together.
This is our home, really.
Our true home.
Don't you feel that?
It's a warm and comfortable room.
Someday we must set a metal plate on the wall here.
Here Philip Ashley first set eyes
on his cousin Rachel.
I think you should go now.
Come here.
Why must I ? Ever.
- Please, Philip. - My room is all the lonelier
to be sung the area of the ear.
I wish that we could tell them now.
Tell them what?
That we're married now.
But we're not, Philip. We're not married.
But, of course we're married.
On my birthday.
You can't have forgotten!
It is true.
Isn't it?
You should have let me die.
If you say such things, they destroy me, too.
Why didn't you tell me?
I couldn't. Not while you were so ill and weak.
You'll understand, I'm sure, when you're well.
And it all seemed so important then.
Soon, you'll recover, soon, you'll swim and sail in the bay
and you'll be back about your work again.
And in a while, everything will seem to you just like it was before I came.
You really believe that?
If I didn't,
I don't think I should ever have another moment's peace of mind.
Is it Rainaldi?
No, Philip.
I know it is. It's always been Rainaldi.
Let's not start all that again.
Ambrose knew it, too.
You've no right to pry into such matters,
But I'll answer you, just as I answered Ambrose, who hated him, too.
Guido's a friend to see me through every trial and trouble.
You must never misjudge me, or try to see me as other than as I am.
He knows all my faults and weaknesses, but has never condemned me for them.
And without his help, i should have been lost time and again.
He's my only true friend.
But friend only.
I'd better leave now, don't you think
After this, could there be anything but unhappiness for both of us?
Where is he now?
Guido?
In Florence, I imagine.
When have ever you told me anything..
Any single word since you came into this house,
but lies?
Who's that?
Thank you, Seecombe.
One of the advantages of being in the service, Seecombe, is
that you're not called upon to listen to a scolding from the pulpit every sunday.
How do you feel, this morning?
Better, thank you.
Good to see you on your feet, Philip.
- There's whisky in the library. - Thank you, my dear.
I'm leaving this evening, Philip.
There's a vessel sailing in the morning and I booked passage on it.
Don't you think we might be friends for the last few hours?
Of course, we must be.
There's an Italian saying that Ambrose loved:
Remember only the happy hours.
That, I think, is the way it should be with us.
It's a beautiful thought.
And in spite of everything, we've had many together, haven't we?
Very happiest.
Let me kiss you.
There are still moments when I could swear that Ambrose lives all over again in you.
Philip! How much better you do look.
Thank you.
Gracious, he does, by George.
The last time I saw him, he looked quite green.
Tell me, how do you feel?
- Much better, thank you. - That's splendid, splendid.
Now, my dear, come, come.
My dear Louise.
Are you sure you're quite up to all this?
It's precisely what I need, all my old friends again.
Good.
Louise.
Are you staying to dinner?
Nobody is.
The vicar's got a service, and father's going down to the farm.
Then you must make some excuse to stay here.
I want to see you alone. It's very important.
- I'll arrange it. - Come on, you two.
Time enough for that when I'm gone.
This is my last sunday here, and I want it to be as happy as my first,
with only Philip's and Ambrose's dearest friends around me.
Are they gone?
All but Miss Louise.
Worthington can drive me home later, can't he?
Of course.
- You read Italian, don't you? - Yes, but not very well.
There's a letter here in Italian I want you to read it.
They're very dear people, particularly Leptkin.
And I'm going to miss her more than I can say.
This is for you, Louise.
- What is it? - My special tisane for Philip.
I want you to watch how I make.
The English way, if there should be an English way, which I rather doubt,
is to use pure barley.
I brought my own dried herbs from Florence.
If you like the taste, I'll leave some of them here for you, too.
In Florence I used to brew my tisane in my room
and let it stand for a while.
Then Ambrose and I would go out into the courtyard and sit
And talk and play. It was very pleasant and peaceful
sipping it slowly, while the water dripped into the pool
Often until after midnight.
Couldn' we make just such a pleasant place in the sunken garden?
Where we might sit in the afternoons.
If I could find another little statue, like the one in r....
No. Thank you.
Now Philip, really.
You can't refuse this last cup with me.
It's your own brew.
You drink it for me.
No. It's a pity to waste it.
But mine's already poured with the sense of my taste.
Yes, Seecombe?
The man from the bank is here, ma'am.
Oh, yes. Show him into the office.
- Will you excuse me for a moment? - Of course.
I have this one last paper to sign.
It's a letter from Rainaldi.
I'm certain it's in her room somewhere.
I have no idea how it can be managed,
But I should like to get hold of that letter and read it.
Why? what's happened?
I haven't the time to explain.
But I'm convinced now that Ambrose was right.
She not only murdered him, but she's tried to kill me, too.
Philip, you can't be serious.
Everything you said in the church that afternoon was the truth.
And with that letter I'll prove it.
But not murder, surely.
How else could she marry her lover and still keep possession of the estate?
Wasn't that the particular point you were going to be sure of?
You're in a very bad humor today.
And I'd like to think it's because I'm leaving.
In any case I can't go away
without trying to do something for your sufferings.
- What is it? - A mixture for your tisane.
And I want your promise that you'll take it tonight before bed.
Will you?
- If you insist. - I do.
It's helped you before. And it'll help you again.
Now. Who'll walk with me to the sunken garden?
I've just thought of a little statue I can get in Florence.
And I want to make sure in my mind how it'd look from the other side.
If you don't mind. Louise must leave in a few minutes.
I promised to show her an old map of the estate
that someone brought to Seecombe yesterday.
Of course. You should.
Come on.
Stand by the window and watch.
I will find that letter if I....
I'm frightened, Philip.
Unless, of course, she's destroyed it.
Rainaldi's been here all the time.
In Plymouth.
She's been seeing him for weeks.
She lied about that business, and she's lying about...
Here's an odd one.
It's a receipt from the bank.
She sent them back the jewelry collection.
Then she's not taking it with her.
Very clever of her.
Did you look all through the desk?
Of course.
Have you looked in the blotter?
Here.
What does it say?
Rachel, love, my ship sails saturday midnight.
If I don't see you again before then I'll leave defeated but with no reproaches.
I shall continue to serve you with love and friendship as long as I shall live.
As for that boy,
if he's so much in your heart that you cannot bear to leave him,
by all means bring him back to Florence with you.
We'll nurse him back to health.
Guido.
Oh, my God!
What is it, Philip? What have you done?
Go to the bell rope to call the men in.
- Yes. - Go and pull it.
Ring it hard! If something happened I may need help!
I'm coming, darling. I'm coming.
Rachel, darling. Please. Please!
Rachel.
Rachel!
Why did you do it?
Blessed Rachel.
Only you can know now
This burden that I must carry to the end of my days.
This question that I must ask myself, again and again
Every day of my life.
Never to be answered, now until we meet at last in purgatory.
Were you innocent or were you guilty?
Rachel, my torment.
My blessed, blessed torment.