breed of hysterical little boys.
[suddenly struck]
Doctor …
D R R EID . What is it?
P EARL . Was there –? There was madness in Mother’s family, wasn’t there?
D R R EID . Your mother was a beautiful woman.
P EARL . Ay, beautiful and mad. Victor is the picture of Mother; you think he’s mad.
D R R EID . Unstable, perhaps.
P EARL . Doctor.
[apprehensive]
Will I go mad?
D R R EID . No, no, my dear, you’re the picture of Ramsay.
P EARL . How did she die?
D R R EID . You know quite well, she –
P EARL . She contracted child-bed fever when Victor was born.
D R R EID . Ay, that’s what carried her off.
P EARL . You needn’t euphemize on my account, Doctor. How soon after onset does death normally occur?
D R R EID . A matter of hours, Pearl, she didn’t suffer long.
P EARL . Yet I’m to believe Mother had time and strength to paint Victor into the family portrait before being “carried off”? I’ll warrant she was carried off, the question is “to where?” The Royal Edinburgh Asylum. Tell me, Doctor. Is she alive? And put away?
D R R EID . No she is not, you have my word. As to the portrait; Régine painted the infant into it before she gave birth. After all, she knew she was with child.
A beat
.
P EARL . If not mad then what was she? Immoral?
D R R EID . No –
P EARL . “The sins of the Mother”, she had to’ve been either fallen or mad, which was it?
D R R EID . Neither.
P EARL [angry]. Then what did Father mean?!
D R R EID . He merely wished to protect you.
P EARL . From what?!
D R R EID . The laws of heredity are such that … a flaw may lurk undetected for generations.
P EARL . You mean I could breed a crop of lunatics.
D R R EID . You said yourself you’d no desire for bairns.
P EARL
[mounting fear]
. It’s in me too, isn’t it?
D R R EID . Pearl –
P EARL . The flaw.
D R R EID . Hush –
P EARL . “Lurking.”
D R R EID . Pearl. You know I’ve been fond of you since you were a girl. I was your father’s dearest friend; I know he’d give his blessing.
P EARL . To what?
D R R EID . I want to marry you, Pearl.
P EARL [nonplussed] … Why?
D R R EID. Oh Pearl, there’s so much to live for, so much of beauty and wonder. I want to share it with you.
P EARL . What have we to share?
D R R EID. Our work.
[passionate]
You were right. I have been hiding. My dearest girl, I hope you may never have cause to learn how the sweetness can drain from the cup of life so gradually as to go unnoticed. Until one day that cup is empty. But now … Oh my dear, a great journey awaits us.
P EARL . To … the Caucasus?
D R R EID . The journey between one cell and another can far outdistance that between the poles of the earth. Pearl, I shall lay my entire laboratory at your feet. I’ll instruct you in the art of dissection. We’ll establish our own institute of scientific inquiry, here at Belle Moral; bypass the graybeards in London who are too antiquated in their views to recognize that, in matters of intellect, woman is the equal of man. We’ll toil side by side and I will cherish you as the alchemist of old cherished his
soror mystica
, my mystical sister. My equal.
P EARL . But Doctor –
D R R EID . Seamus.
P EARL . We can do all of that without benefit of clergy, without …
[an awkward beat]
D R R EID . I would not touch a hair of your head, my dear. My passion is not of the flesh, but the mind.
A beautiful young man enters, dressed exactly as
Y OUNG F ARLEIGH
was, carrying a covered tray
.
Y OUNG M AN [solemn]. Refreshments.
P EARL . Who the devil are you?
Y OUNG M AN . Young Farleigh’s grandson, Miss. Wee Farleigh.
ACT II
Scene 1 Pearl’s Study
That night. Moonlight. The door swings open. A
F IGURE
enters, crouched, a worn tartan shawl draped about its head and shoulders. Audible breathing – almost a panting – as though an effort were being made to control fear and maintain silence. Sniff-sniff. Silence. The
F IGURE
explores the room,
[suddenly struck]
Doctor …
D R R EID . What is it?
P EARL . Was there –? There was madness in Mother’s family, wasn’t there?
D R R EID . Your mother was a beautiful woman.
P EARL . Ay, beautiful and mad. Victor is the picture of Mother; you think he’s mad.
D R R EID . Unstable, perhaps.
P EARL . Doctor.
[apprehensive]
Will I go mad?
D R R EID . No, no, my dear, you’re the picture of Ramsay.
P EARL . How did she die?
D R R EID . You know quite well, she –
P EARL . She contracted child-bed fever when Victor was born.
D R R EID . Ay, that’s what carried her off.
P EARL . You needn’t euphemize on my account, Doctor. How soon after onset does death normally occur?
D R R EID . A matter of hours, Pearl, she didn’t suffer long.
P EARL . Yet I’m to believe Mother had time and strength to paint Victor into the family portrait before being “carried off”? I’ll warrant she was carried off, the question is “to where?” The Royal Edinburgh Asylum. Tell me, Doctor. Is she alive? And put away?
D R R EID . No she is not, you have my word. As to the portrait; Régine painted the infant into it before she gave birth. After all, she knew she was with child.
A beat
.
P EARL . If not mad then what was she? Immoral?
D R R EID . No –
P EARL . “The sins of the Mother”, she had to’ve been either fallen or mad, which was it?
D R R EID . Neither.
P EARL [angry]. Then what did Father mean?!
D R R EID . He merely wished to protect you.
P EARL . From what?!
D R R EID . The laws of heredity are such that … a flaw may lurk undetected for generations.
P EARL . You mean I could breed a crop of lunatics.
D R R EID . You said yourself you’d no desire for bairns.
P EARL
[mounting fear]
. It’s in me too, isn’t it?
D R R EID . Pearl –
P EARL . The flaw.
D R R EID . Hush –
P EARL . “Lurking.”
D R R EID . Pearl. You know I’ve been fond of you since you were a girl. I was your father’s dearest friend; I know he’d give his blessing.
P EARL . To what?
D R R EID . I want to marry you, Pearl.
P EARL [nonplussed] … Why?
D R R EID. Oh Pearl, there’s so much to live for, so much of beauty and wonder. I want to share it with you.
P EARL . What have we to share?
D R R EID. Our work.
[passionate]
You were right. I have been hiding. My dearest girl, I hope you may never have cause to learn how the sweetness can drain from the cup of life so gradually as to go unnoticed. Until one day that cup is empty. But now … Oh my dear, a great journey awaits us.
P EARL . To … the Caucasus?
D R R EID . The journey between one cell and another can far outdistance that between the poles of the earth. Pearl, I shall lay my entire laboratory at your feet. I’ll instruct you in the art of dissection. We’ll establish our own institute of scientific inquiry, here at Belle Moral; bypass the graybeards in London who are too antiquated in their views to recognize that, in matters of intellect, woman is the equal of man. We’ll toil side by side and I will cherish you as the alchemist of old cherished his
soror mystica
, my mystical sister. My equal.
P EARL . But Doctor –
D R R EID . Seamus.
P EARL . We can do all of that without benefit of clergy, without …
[an awkward beat]
D R R EID . I would not touch a hair of your head, my dear. My passion is not of the flesh, but the mind.
A beautiful young man enters, dressed exactly as
Y OUNG F ARLEIGH
was, carrying a covered tray
.
Y OUNG M AN [solemn]. Refreshments.
P EARL . Who the devil are you?
Y OUNG M AN . Young Farleigh’s grandson, Miss. Wee Farleigh.
ACT II
Scene 1 Pearl’s Study
That night. Moonlight. The door swings open. A
F IGURE
enters, crouched, a worn tartan shawl draped about its head and shoulders. Audible breathing – almost a panting – as though an effort were being made to control fear and maintain silence. Sniff-sniff. Silence. The
F IGURE
explores the room,
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