PEARL. What on earth does it matter? Although you’d do well to get your beauty rest, Auntie, if Doctor Reid is to join us.
FLORA. Hush your haiverin’, noo. [embarassed, pleased] Pearl. You dinna truly reckon Dr Reid … harbours a speecial regard for your auld auntie?
PEARL. In my scientific opinion, it could not be more obvious.
FLORA. Go on with you.
PEARL. Goodnight, Auntie.
FLORA. Goodnight, pet. [Exit.]
PEARL. Puppy, did you know that the name of Dr Darwin’s ship was The Beagle? Darwin sought to penetrate that “mystery of mysteries”, the appearance of new species. He proved that all life transforms by slow degrees into all other life. You came from the wolf. I came from the ape. But if the dinosaurs hadn’t mysteriously vanished, we mammals might have remained a race of rodents. And in the absence of man, might the dinosaurs have developed higher consciousness? Perhaps certain traits are like secrets that will out, ideas that are bound to surface. If Darwin hadn’t gone to the Galapagos, he’d have been a scientific footnote; if Shakespeare hadn’t been caught poaching, he’d have been a wool merchant. But I’ll wager there’d still be a father of evolution – or even a mother –and someone whom we call the Bard. Behave, now, or it’s into the cellar with you. Lots of people thought of evolution before Darwin took all the seemingly unrelated bits and put them together in just the right way, at just the right time. His own grandfather, Erasmus Darwin, believed in the mutability of species. But his reasoning was flawed: he put a piece of vermicelli in a jar and wait ed to see if it would come to life. No one could take him seriously after that. [chuckle] Vermicelli. Dr Reid might have feared the same fate when he put his jar aside forever. [About to place the jar back on the desk, a thought occurs to her.] Puppy … have you ever seen an ape with the ear of a wolf? Nor have I …
Scene 8 The Drawing Room
The next morning. MR ABBOTT is waiting. He is fastidiously groomed, wears a pince nez, and carries a leather briefcase. DR REID enters.
DR REID. Ah, Mr Abbott, a word sir –
ABBOTT. Good morning, Doctor –
REID. It appears you failed to receive the note I sent you, last –
ABBOTT. I received it.
DR REID. Why, then, your reply must have gone astray.
ABBOTT. No, my reply is forthcoming, to wit: it is more than a little irregular to seek to embargo a will before the contents are known.
DR REID. But you know the contents –
ABBOTT. I do not, Doctor. My late father drew up Judge MacIsaac’s will –
DR REID. Forgive me, I ought to have –
ABBOTT. Not at all.
DR REID. A stroke, was it?
ABBOTT. Thrombosis.
DR REID. He didn’t linger.
ABBOTT. Nay.
DR REID [sympathetic aspirated, “ay”].
ABBOTT [corroborating aspiration].
DR REID. The fact remains, my dear Abbott, that the contents of Ramsay MacIsaac’s will are as good as known to all who knew him. The judge was a stubborn traditionalist, which is why this matter is of no little urgency; I have reason to fear that Victor MacIsaac is of unsound mind.
ABBOTT: The law is very clear in that case, Doctor. According to the Act Respecting Lunatics, [intoning] “the committee [pron. comeetay] of the estate, shall within six months, file in the office of the Master to whom the matter is referred, or for such officer as may be –”
DR REID. Yes, quite, if young Mr MacIsaac is found to be mentally unfit, his estate will be administered by duly appointed guardians, but Abbott, if we proceed with the reading of the will this morning before that finding can be made, we risk tipping him into an acutely disturbed state from which he might not recover.
ABBOTT. You wish me to suppress the late Judge MacIsaac’s will?
DR REID. Certainly not. I ask only that you delay the reading long enough for the course of Victor’s illness to become apparent. If his sanity does deteriorate, he can be delivered calmly into care before ever tasting the bitter fruit of inheritance. Your father would do no less, were he here.
ABBOTT. I am not my father, Doctor.
DR REID. Son, this family has suffered enough. Commit one humane sin of ommission and spare the lad a world of pain: misplace the will for a few weeks.
ABBOTT. What you suggest is not merely impossible, it’s implausible; no one for a moment would believe me capable of misplacing anything.
A beat.
DR REID. Certain … chattels await the heir to Belle Moral that might prove too much for the lad.
ABBOTT. What “chattels”?
DR REID. [silent].
ABBOTT. One hears things.
DR REID. What things?
ABBOTT. Rumours. To do with the late Mrs MacIsaac. They do not bear repeating.
DR REID. Then a gentleman need not so much as allude to them, sir.
ABBOTT. A gentleman would not have me compromise my professional integrity, sir.
DR REID. I am a doctor. I too have integrity to uphold, indeed an oath: “First, do no harm.” I beg of you, heed it.
FLORA and PEARL enter.
PEARL. Mr Abbott, good morning to you, sir.
ABBOTT [bowing]. Miss MacIsaac. [and to FLORA] Miss MacIsaac.
FLORA. Will you take a drop of coffee, Mr Abbott? [Yanking the cord, hollering.] Young Farleigh! Refreshments in the drawing room!
ABBOTT [to PEARL]. Miss MacIsaac, may I venture to express how immensely diverting I found to be your lecture on “Cambrian Invertebrates: A Comparative Anatomy of Stomachs and Guts”.
PEARL. Why thank you, Mr Abbott.
ABBOTT. Incidentally, have you read Mr Edgar Allen Poe’s, “The Conchologist’s First Book: –”?
PEARL. “A System of Testaceous Malacology”, I couldn’t put it down.
ABBOTT. Nor could I.
PEARL. Mr Abbott, I had no idea you were a fossil enthusiast.
ABBOTT [blushing]. Indeed, I’ve conceived a passion for … paleontology.
DR REID. Where’s Victor?
FLORA. I let him sleep late. The laddie’s still on the delicate side.
VICTOR [singing lustily from off]. “Oh you tak the high road and I’ll tak the low road and I’ll be in Hades afore ye!”
VICTOR enters, bare-chested, kilted, wearing a tartan sash as a turban, the bridge of his nose bandaged where YOUNG FARLEIGH punched him.
PEARL. Victor, you’re drunk.
VICTOR. Oddly, no. I am about to become the Sultan of Belle Moral. Today I inherit Daddy’s noble pile, so let a thousand and one Scottish nights begin. Every true Scot knows the bagpipes originated in Arabia.
FLORA. They never did.
VICTOR. Abbott, [clapping his hands twice] on with the show. Reveal the will of our father.
DR REID clears his throat. ABBOTT ignores him, pulls a document from his briefcase, adjusts his pince nez, and reads:
ABBOTT. “Whereas I, Ramsay MacIsaac –”
VICTOR. Don’t worry, Pearl, I’ll no turn you oot o’ hoos and haim.
ABBOTT. “– being of sound mind –”
VICTOR. I intend to throw wide the doors and let the twentieth century blow hard through the halls.
PEARL. Hush, Victor.
ABBOTT. “– do hereby designate the disposal of my worldly goods –”
VICTOR. I shall put an ad in The Times: “All Welcome”.
ABBOTT. “– my will to be executed by Mr Edward Abbott, senior solicitor of Abbott, Abbott, Brodie and Bloom, except that, in the event that he predecease me, my will to be executed by his son, Mr Lorenzo Abbott.”
VICTOR and PEARL exchange a look, stifle a giggle, “Lorenzo”?
“I was born heir to solid Protestant traditions, the transmission of which from father to son ensured my portion in this world and the next. But in a moment of weakness I cast my seed upon stony ground. I broke the pure chain of descent and sullied the MacIsaac bloodline in an unholy alliance with the papist, Régine MacPhail. Fo
r my wayward desire have I atoned enough in life –”
VICTOR. God bless wayward desire!
ABBOTT. “– but that atonement must extend beyond the grave. My one break with holy tradition can be set right by one more such break: to this end do I disinherit my son, Victor MacIsaac. Upon my daughter Pearl whose parts recommend her as a true MacIsaac, do I bestow Belle Moral and all its goods and chattels. With one condition: that the sins of the mother not be visited upon the daughter, it is my will that she remain childless. In the event that she bear progeny, my estate to revert to the Presbyterian Kirk.”
Shock. VICTOR exits through the window. A beat, then FLORA follows.
Miss MacIsaac … good day. [aside to DR REID] As you can see, Doctor, you underestimated Ramsay MacIsaac. He was every bit as humane as you.
ABBOTT exits.
DR REID. Pearl –
PEARL [crisp, as though nothing had happened]. Doctor Reid, I’ve had an insight into the ear–
DR REID. It’s a tragedy you’ll never be a mother. ’Tis every woman’s dearest wish –
PEARL. It has never been mine. You insist the ear is a mere curiosity, but –
DR REID. Pearl –
PEARL [acid]. Well what would you have me do, Doctor? Weep and moan ‘cause I’ll never be saddled with a welter of brats mewling for “Mummy”? I only wish Father, in his munificence, hadn’t entirely disinherited Victor; it’ll feed the boy’s romantic martyrdom and give him an excuse to drink himself to death at my expense. I suppose that’s why Father cut me off at the ovaries: to prevent me spawning a breed of hysterical little boys. [suddenly struck] Doctor …
DR REID. What is it?
PEARL. Was there –? There was madness in Mother’s family, wasn’t there?
DR REID. Your mother was a beautiful woman.
PEARL. Ay, beautiful and mad. Victor is the picture of Mother; you think he’s mad.
DR REID. Unstable, perhaps.
PEARL. Doctor. [apprehensive] Will I go mad?
DR REID. No, no, my dear, you’re the picture of Ramsay.
PEARL. How did she die?
DR REID. You know quite well, she –
PEARL. She contracted child-bed fever when Victor was born.
DR REID. Ay, that’s what carried her off.
PEARL. You needn’t euphemize on my account, Doctor. How soon after onset does death normally occur?
DR REID. A matter of hours, Pearl, she didn’t suffer long.
PEARL. 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?
DR REID. 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.
PEARL. If not mad then what was she? Immoral?
DR REID. No –
PEARL. “The sins of the Mother”, she had to’ve been either fallen or mad, which was it?
DR REID. Neither.
PEARL [angry]. Then what did Father mean?!
DR REID. He merely wished to protect you.
PEARL. From what?!
DR REID. The laws of heredity are such that … a flaw may lurk undetected for generations.
PEARL. You mean I could breed a crop of lunatics.
DR REID. You said yourself you’d no desire for bairns.
PEARL [mounting fear]. It’s in me too, isn’t it?
DR REID. Pearl –
PEARL. The flaw.
DR REID. Hush –
PEARL. “Lurking.”
DR REID. 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.
PEARL. To what?
DR REID. I want to marry you, Pearl.
PEARL [nonplussed] … Why?
DR REID. Oh Pearl, there’s so much to live for, so much of beauty and wonder. I want to share it with you.
PEARL. What have we to share?
DR REID. 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.
PEARL. To … the Caucasus?
DR REID. 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.
PEARL. But Doctor –
DR REID. Seamus.
PEARL. We can do all of that without benefit of clergy, without … [an awkward beat]
DR REID. 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 YOUNG FARLEIGH was, carrying a covered tray.
YOUNG MAN [solemn]. Refreshments.
PEARL. Who the devil are you?
YOUNG MAN. Young Farleigh’s grandson, Miss. Wee Farleigh.
ACT II
Scene 1 Pearl’s Study
That night. Moonlight. The door swings open. A FIGURE 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 FIGURE explores the room, dropping to crawl on all fours, pausing here and there. It arrives at PEARL’S desk and is stopped by the sight of the jar. Reaches for it. Fumbles with it. FLORA appears in the doorway with an oil lamp. The FIGURE looks up and drops the jar.
FLORA. There you are. Thank God. [Firm but gentle.] Come, now. Come.
The FIGURE rises and starts toward FLORA’S outstretched hand.
Here now. Give them to me.
The FIGURE reaches out and hands FLORA her ring of keys.
Scene 2 Pearl’s Study
Next morning. PEARL enters and spots something on the floor. She takes tweezers from her desk, bends and carefully picks up the ear.
PEARL [bellowing to off]. Wee Farleigh!
WEE FARLEIGH enters with a frilly tray.
Where is that slavering cur?
WEE FARLEIGH. Out frolicking, Miss.
PEARL. Well find it and beat it. No. Put it in a sack and drown it. What’s that?
WEE FARLEIGH [formal, well-mannered, yet somehow seductive]. Breakfast, Miss. Earl Gray tea. Coddled eggs. Brioche –
PEARL. What?
WEE FARLEIGH. A bun. Only better.
PEARL. Oh. [a beat] Well, take it away, I’m … [wave of nausea].
WEE FARLEIGH. Feeling poorly, Miss?
PEARL. Do as I say.
He goes to exit with the tray. PEARL catches sight of something else, bends and retrieves the lid and the empty jar, perfectly intact.
Wee Farleigh. You needn’t drown it, just … give him away to anyone who wants him.
WEE FARLEIGH. Ay, Miss.
Scene 3 Hallway / The Attic Stairs
FLORA and DR REID enter, heading for the attic stairs. WEE FARLEIGH enters with a pot of coffee. FLORA and DR REID step back out of sight, allowing WEE FARLEIGH to cross before they mount the stairs, resuming their conversation:
FLORA. I was wushin’ the poor creature in the tub–
DR REID. The tub?
FLORA. In the old nursery – not to worry, it’s quite out of the way – I’d doffed ma dress, if ye maun know, down to ma linens so’s not to drench mis-sel, and scarce had I turned my back when she lifted ma keys. [A touch of admiration.] For a
’ that she’s meek, she’s clever.
DR REID [admonishing]. She’s cunning. What if she’d –?
FLORA. There was no harm done.
DR REID. Next time get Wee Farleigh to help you with the bathing.
FLORA. Wee Farleigh? That’s hardly decent.
DR REID. And in future, confine her ablutions to the attic. Use a basin. Do not lavish upon her, luxuries to which she is insensible.
FLORA. Ach, I was anerly tryin to make the poor lamb presentable.
DR REID. For whom?
FLORA. Why, for Pearl.
A beat.
It’s this morning I’ll be telling her. You’ll help me, won’t you, Seamus? I fear to tell her on my own.
DR REID. Need you tell her at all?
FLORA. She’ll have to know now she’s mistress here.
DR REID. Not necessarily. Not if I am master.
A beat as FLORA takes in the implications.
FLORA. Ach Seamus, you’re old enough to be the lassie’s faither.
DR REID. And that is what I shall be to her. A second father. I shall guide her studies and stimulate her mind to fructify as her womb never shall.
FLORA. Ay, but … [resisting tears] I always pictured a bonnie lad. One who’d awaken her heart and bring a flush to her cheek, a sigh to her lips –
DR REID. She’s thirty-two years old, Flora. Barren and waist-deep in the sands of time.
VICTOR enters in his bathrobe, badly hung-over, the bridge of his nose bandaged, nursing a cup of coffee. He is stopped by their voices behind the door to the attic stairs, and listens.
FLORA. Ay, so she’s old enough to hear the truth.
DR REID. She’s a woman for a’ that.
FLORA. As am I, and have I not borne the horror of it?
DR REID. Ay but the horror does not lurk within your very loins.
FLORA [stung]. How would you know the first thing about my loins? Mayhap the flaw did come from my brother’s side, he was the one with the Faery hair!