The Draughtsman's Contract

# At last the glittering Queen of night

# With black caress kills off

# Kills off the day. #

Mr Chandos was a man who spent more time with his gardener

than with his wife. They discussed plum trees ad nauseam.

He gave his family and his tenants cause to dread September.

They were regaled with plums until their guts rumbled like thunder

and their backsides ached from overuse.

He built the chapel at Fovant, where the pew seats are of plumwood

so the tenants still have cause to remember Chandos

through their backsides on account of the splinters.

# At last the glittering Queen of night

# With black caress kills off

# Kills off the day. #

Some years ago, two gentlemen went back to Amsterdam

saying that Allhevinghay was just like home.

There was so much water, so many ornamental ponds, so many canals,

so many sinks and basins. There was even a wind pump.

What they hadn't realised was my father had made his land

into a pattern of reservoirs because he was terrified of fire.

There was even a room under the front stairs

that housed 200 buckets, all of them filled with water.

I know because whenever I was taken short

my brothers and I used to rush in there and use them, haha!

Those buckets were filled before my mother died.

I expect them to be still there,

with the same water of thirty years ago I shouldn't wonder,

mixed with a little of myself, of course.

I used to pee like a horse. I still do.

# For those that walk

# That walk with hopeful step

# In garden, in garden

# In garden, love to find. #

At Southampton, there's a house I've admired because from the side it looks so flat.

It is of white Portland stone and, on a cloudy day,

it looks as though it might be attached to the sky.

-Especially in the evening.

-Its owner is a Miss Anterim.

She is a lady without a husband.

From the side, she is a lady without significance.

Maybe that is why, unlike her house, the lady is unattached.

What with one flatness and another, Mr Neville,

-as a painter and as a draughtsman...

-You could be entertained, it seems.

BOTH: Especially in the evening, from the side.

# For those that walk, that walk. #

It is said that the Duc de Courey invited his water mechanic

to the top of an elaborate cascade he had built

and asked him if he could build such a marvel for anyone else.

The man, after offering various thanks and pleasantries,

finally admitted that with sufficient patronage he probably could.

The Duc de Courey pushed him gently in the small of the back

and the wretched man plummeted to a watery death.

# Their hope to find success

# They're sure to make. #

Now, Mr Noyes, do you have a ribald piece of gossip for me?

Madam, I'm here to fulfil a role as entertainer.

I'm sure that sooner or later I could find something for you.

Then you're here on merit, a characteristic the rest of the company does not share,

being here merely to express confidence in one another's money.

-You are one of the company.

-My meretricious conduct

in the company of Mr Seymour has been my invitation.

I am strictly not of the company but a part of its property.

Since that is what the company is here to discuss and to revel in,

you should be well favoured. I would well favour you myself

above two parterres and a drive of orange trees.

You are not extravagant in your compliments, Mr Noyes.

As yet, I'm not wealthy enough to offer you more

but I intend to be so soon. In the present company of 13 that owns a fair slice of England,

two parterres and a drive of orange trees is a beginning,

and being a lady of the Italian fashion,

madam, you will appreciate the value of oranges.

They smell so sweet. They are so invigorating.

# The very statues breathe. #

Do you think your father will ask Mr Neville to draw the house?

Why not improve Mr Neville's chances, and yours,

by inviting Mr Neville yourself?

That is a too imaginative stratagem for me.

Your father would find it uncharacteristically bold.

Then you could surprise him, and perhaps surprise Mr Neville as well.

And if that frightens you, Mother,

we could lay the blame on Mr Neville.

I hold the delight or despondency of a man of property

by putting his house in shadow or in sunlight.

Even possibly I have some control over the jealousy

or satisfaction of a husband by depicting his wife, sir,

dressed or undressed.

Mrs Clement asked me if I had a wife, which has a ring of impertinence.

She knows I have a garden, how come she does not know I have a wife?

Perhaps because you boast of one and not the other.

But I suspect a sense of modesty is an impertinence

to such a lady as Mrs Clement.

Your mother takes a sense of modesty an unprecedented distance.

Why doesn't she come out more? She frets in the shadows.

She does not fret, Father,

or if she does you well know the cause is your indifference.

A house, a garden, a horse, a wife, the preferential order.

Nonsense!

I am anxious, Mr Neville, that you should draw my husband's estate.

Why is that, madam?

My husband is a proud man, who is delighted to be associated

with every brick and every tree of his property

at every moment of his waking life. And no doubt in his dreams as well,

though I've not been too well acquainted with his dreams, since...

With such an excellent relationship with his property,

he surely, having the real thing, does not need a copy.

I do not take well to young men who preen.

Their vanity usually outweighs their prowess.

Mr Neville has prowess enough.

Enough to charm where he cannot impress. And he can charm

-and impress the wives of rich men.

-That's not so uncommon, Mr Seymour.

You come with me to Southampton tomorrow.

I'll show you how to impress a lady with a good drawing on.

My father's property, Mr Neville, is a little more forward than humble.

And since humility in a building is not antithetical to you

perhaps I can prevail on you to draw my father's house?

Ah, the same proposition from a different quarter.

A concerted effort naturally intrigues me but I feel,

madam, things being as they are, may I be bold?

I do not think that you or your mother could afford my services.

Why not enjoy our patronage?

Come and walk in Mr Herbert's garden tomorrow.

Madam, I cannot say I would not be delighted,

but I fear, despite your persistence that I have work to do up and beyond

this coming apple season and will be in the service of Lord Charborough

until next year's apples have all been drunk as cider.

Your mother is excessively keen to have this house down on paper.

Or perhaps it is you that is keen

and your mother is merely your surrogate?

I admit, Mr Neville, to being a supplicant on my mother's behalf

but she does not want it for herself but for her husband.

The supplication then has a long and diverse path.

I am flattered.

But may not Mr Herbert himself do his own commissioning?

The point of the exercise, Mr Neville, is to avoid that one thing.

You are to be the instrument of a hopeful reconciliation.

Mr Neville, how can I persuade you to stay with us at Compton Anstey?

You cannot, madam.

But you can be bought, Mr Neville. How much will it cost?

More than you can afford, madam.

But I must confess my prime reason is indolence.

I increase my price in proportion to my expectation of pleasure.

I do not expect great pleasure here, madam.

Madam, I'm to leave very early in the morning for Southampton.

I've come to take my leave of you now.

Do not order the hay to be cut.

Do not leave the estate and do not drink my claret.

And do not expect me back until I'm ready,

which at the very least will be 14 days.

Good night, madam.

# She loves and she confesses... #

I have decided that it is most important that you stay here

to make for me 12 drawings of my husband's estate.

My husband is to go to Southampton for at least 12 days.

-Will that be enough time for you?

-First, madam, you make a demand

suggesting we haven't discussed the proposition.

Second, you increase your demand by 12.

Third, you add to the proposition a time limit.

And fourth, you expect me to start at once.

Four factors, Mr Neville, you have convinced us

are well within your talents and capabilities.

Your terms are exorbitant.

So must mine be.

# She loves and she confesses to

# There is then at last no more to do. #

The conditions of the agreement, Mr Noyes, are my services

as draughtsman for 12 days for the manufacture of 12 drawings,

of the estate and gardens, parks and outlying buildings

of Mr Herbert's property.

The sites for the 12 drawings to be chosen at my discretion,

though advised by Mrs Herbert.

For which, Thomas, I am willing to pay £8 a drawing,

to provide full board for Mr Neville and his servant, and...

And, madam?

And to agree to meet Mr Neville in private

and to comply with his requests concerning his pleasure with me.

'Curriculum for the Execution of the Drawings at Compton Anstey.

'For drawing number one, from 7 o'clock until 9 o'clock in the morning,

'the whole of the back of the house, from the stable block

'to the laundry garden, will be kept clear.'

'No person shall use the main stable yard gates whatsoever,

'and no person shall use the back door or interfere with the windows

'or furniture of the back part of the house.'

A is for apricot. M is for marilla.

C is for citrona. Citrona.

-A is for ananas. A-nan-as.

-Ananas.

P is for pineapple.

'For drawing number two, from 9 o'clock in the morning

'until 11 o'clock, the lower lawns of the house,

'including the formal garden, will be kept clear.

'No window in the upper part of the house will be opened,

'closed, or otherwise disturbed.'

Your Mr Neville, Sarah,

has the God-like power of emptying the landscape.

It is a wonder the birds still sing.

If they stopped, I doubt Mr Neville would appreciate the difference.

His attitude to nature is strictly material.

Thomas, why is Mr Neville interested in my sheets?

Madam, he's to draw them wet outside the laundry.

-Wet? Why does he want them wet?

-Madam, I cannot answer you that.

Perhaps he has fond memories of being a baby.

'For drawing number three, from 11 o'clock in the morning until 1 o'clock,

'the back and north side of the house will be kept clear.'

'This area, that is used as a place for drying linen,

'will be left as asked for, on an arrangement

'made between the draughtsman and the laundress,

'who will take full responsibility for the disposition of the linen.'

Madam, I am delighted to see that

you've loosened your clothing as I requested.

When your husband had the pear trees grafted,

-do you know if he asked for the advice of Mr Seymour's gardener?

-Er...

Sorry, madam. You do not speak very loud.

-We...

-SHE CHOKES AND COUGHS

-We do not know Mr Seymour's gardener...

-I see.

-..Mr Neville.

-The trees have been poorly cared for.

The angle between the branches... and the main trunk is too steep.

But the original work is good.

And what of the pears themselves,

in season?

Are they presentable?

SHE SIGHS

SHE SPEAKS GERMAN

'For drawing number four,

'from two o'clock until four o'clock in the afternoon,

'the front of the house that faces west will be kept clear.

'No horses, carriages or other vehicles

'will be allowed to be placed there

'and the gravel on the drive will be left undisturbed.

'No coals are to be burned that will issue smoke

'from the front of the house.'

And hurry up!

'For drawing number five,

'from four o'clock in the afternoon until six o'clock in the afternoon,

'the hilltop prospect of the estate to the north of the house

'will be kept clear of all members of the household staff

'and farm servants.

'Such animals as are presently grazing in the fields

'will be permitted to continue.'

-Good day, Mr Neville.

-Mr Talmann.

Ah, I see you have selected a fine view for my son to inherit.

I prefer, for the moment at least,

to regard the view as the property of Mr Herbert.

Thomas.

See that Clarissa does not go to the laundry around noon.

'And come to my withdrawing room

'this afternoon with some ink.

'I want to send to Mr Herbert, to know by which road

'he intends to return.'

Is it your intention to continue to stand there, Mr Talmann?

I can see the view very adequately from here, Mr Neville. Thank you.

Will you be wearing the same clothes tomorrow?

Why?

I have not decided.

HE WHISTLES

It depends on my servants. Is it important?

Maybe I will.

'For drawing number six,

'from six o'clock in the evening until eight o'clock,

'the lower lawn of the garden by the statue of Hermes will be kept clear

'of all members of the household, staff, horses and other animals.'

Philip, go and ask those people to move.

Ask them nicely, smile.

Don't trot.

LAUGHTER

MURMURED CONVERSATION

Oh, go away!

Where? Really?

Not that I know.

'Mr Lucas was a man whose enthusiasms were divided equally

'between his garden and his children. Whenever his wife conceived,

'Mr Lucas planted fruit trees.

'His wife seldom came to a successful labour.

'Those children she was blessed with died before weaning.

'Mr Lucas threatened to cut his trees down, but never did.'

To date, there are 11 trees in his fruit garden

and he knows them all by their Christian names.

The English are not blessed

with the most appropriate fecundity at the moment.

They can raise colonies, but not heirs to the throne.

It depends, Mr Talmann, which colonies you are speaking of.

Some of England's oldest colonies have heirs in plenty.

Ah, Mr Neville.

Do we have an indication of Scottish sympathies?

Madam, you would be reading far too much into what is simply a statement of fact.

If the best Englishmen are foreigners, Mr Neville,

and that seems to me to be a simple statement of fact,

then the best English painters are foreigners too.

There's no English painter worthy of the name.

Would you agree, Mr Neville,

that to be an English painter is a contradictory term?

Then Mr Herbert shows some sense in encouraging Mr Neville.

Mr Herbert, madam, as we all know, is full of contradictions.

Contradictory enough to invite you into this house.

Despite his being a man without airs and graces.

But not privy to whom his wife welcomes into his house, madam.

When my father is away, Louis,

my mother is at liberty to run his house as she feels fit.

And she has seen fit to invite Mr Neville.

-A gracious speech, Mrs Talmann.

-To hide all manner of inconveniences.

-How is that, sir?

-It is apparent from our meeting this afternoon,

that your presumptory regime not only extends to confining the household

like animals in reservations,

but directing us as to whether or not we should wear a coat,

-carry a walking-stick or whistle.

-When I met you in the garden, you were doing all those things.

If you intend being there tomorrow,

I would wish you to dress and to behave in the same way.

However, it's beyond my power to describe a whistle pictorially,

whether it comes from an Englishman or from a German dressed as an Englishman.

And what do you do about the birds, Mr Neville?

If you ignore their song, you can't prevent them

from flying across the field of your vision.

The prospect of 12 fine-weather days with clear skies

and sharp shadows is an excellent proposition,

but not to be guaranteed.

So I am naturally anxious that time should not be wasted.

It would assist me greatly therefore

if my instructions, which have been given great consideration,

should be observed.

I'm painstaking enough to notice quite small changes in the landscape.

Once started, I make that a committal, madam. Whatsoever ensues.

And I think you can surmise

that it's an attitude from which I obtain great satisfaction

and some entertainment.

Thomas,

can you remember, when Mr Herbert had his clothes packed,

whether he took his French boots?

How is it, Mr Neville, that you've contrived

to make the garden so empty of people?

The authority for these drawings, Mr Talmann, comes from Mrs Herbert.

Do you think she is a woman who enjoys having a crowd of people kick her gravel around

or move her earth like a pack of dogs in a herb garden?

I would seek peace and quiet in a garden...

and noise and excitement at a carnival.

Carnem levare.

So Mr Neville, you would reserve your revelries

for a religious occasion. And what of Gethsemane?

A wild sort of garden I shouldn't wonder.

There would be no geometric paths and no Dutch bulbs.

We have a Cedar of Lebanon and a Judas tree.

Perhaps we could cultivate a Tree of Heaven?

The gardens of England are becoming jungles.

Such exotics are grossly unsuitable.

If the Garden of Eden was planned for England, God would have seen to it.

The Garden of Eden was originally intended for Ireland.

For it was there that St Patrick eradicated the snake.

The only useful eradication in Ireland

was performed by William of Orange four years ago on my birthday.

And happy birthday to you, Mr Talmann.

If you are not too old to receive presents

perhaps the gardener and I can find a snake for your orangerie.

What?

-Good day to you, Mr Neville.

-Good day, madam.

Philip.

I see the company is assembled. And what are we to be spectators of?

You must not be surprised. We are here at your request.

I did not request an audience, nor a dinner on the grass.

Perhaps we are to applaud the view.

The scribbler is never satisfied. He is as insatiable as a...

You said that Mr Talmann should be here,

dressed as you asked and carrying a gold-topped cane.

We have taken you at your word.

There was another instruction, but conveniently I have forgotten it.

-Whistling, Sarah.

-So much for convenience.

You do not catch me in the best of tempers wearing yesterday's clothes.

I give you 20 minutes only.

I have a horse to exercise.

Then, sir, please take your place.

I will take a walk. Come with me, Maria. We have a dog to exercise.

A little to the left, if you please. And puff out your cheeks.

-Why should I do that?

-Because last time you were whistling.

A tune perhaps not readily recognisable even by its own composer.

Look, madam.

This man has no head.

A typical German characteristic.

Mr Neville, you're talking about my son-in-law.

By the grace of God, madam,

you are to have a grandson by him, some day.

Is that not a better thing to talk of?

And you mock my money and my person to draw caricatures.

With my memory, pictures in the house,

and your knowledge of the subject, I intend to place the head of Mr Herbert

on these shoulders,

as an appropriate acknowledgement of your husband and his property.

If he should return.

Why, madam, what a strange thing to say.

If he should return home to me.

So...

..I am grieving

because Mr Herbert is away.

Yes, Mother.

The contract is void, Mr Neville.

I cannot meet you again.

Mrs Herbert, sit here. Move your head into the shade.

Do you not think the gardeners have excelled themselves?

You should not continue to draw, Mr Neville.

I no longer feel able to continue the terms of our contract.

The fee is yours, as is the hospitality.

I was about to say that despite all my satisfaction

at the prospect of continuing the commission under such delightful circumstances,

the peak of my delight, madam,

is obtained in those short minutes when we are together.

I would regret losing them.

Besides, I do not need to remind you

that the contract was made between two people.

It will take the consent of BOTH signatories to make it void.

And now, madam, I feel that from this position I cannot adequately

see what I'm supposed to be seeing

and I must therefore request you find some other resting place.

At least until four o'clock

when our next meeting is to be consummated as arranged.

Madam, who is this child who walks the garden

with such a solemn look on his face?

That is my husband's nephew, Mr Neville.

He attracts servants like a little midget king.

What is his patrimony, madam?

His father was killed at Ausbergenfeld.

His mother became a Catholic. My husband brought him to England.

To be reared as a little Protestant.

He was an orphan and needed to be looked after.

An orphan, madam, because his mother became a Catholic?

BELLS TOLL

Philip, find out what's happening.

Mr Neville, sir, I'm sorry about the coat.

It was not I that put it there.

Is that so, madam?

Then who did?

I'll ask.

No, don't ask. Leave it there.

Someone's getting careless. The garden is becoming a robe-room.

I wonder what they keep in their clothespress. Plants perhaps?

Who will be your husband's direct heir after you?

A future grandson, Mr Neville, though not after me.

Mr Herbert does not believe in a woman owning property.

And what about your daughter and her husband?

They would be guardians on a grandson's behalf.

Do you intend to study legal matters?

You must forgive my curiosity, madam, and open your knees.

To have possession of my person is not an excuse to be privy to my husband's will.

Your loyalty is exemplary, madam,

but what will happen to the estate if your daughter has no heirs?

I do not like to think of it.

The estate was my father's.

Mr Herbert obtained it through marriage to me.

It is imperative, Augustus, that in representing me,

you ask of yourself the very best.

And you do not fraternise with whomsoever you choose.

And chasing sheep is a tiresome habit best left to shepherds.

If Mr Neville chases sheep he is not to be emulated.

Drawing is an attribution worth very little

and in England worth nothing at all.

If you must scribble, I suggest that your time would be better spent in studying mathematics.

I will engage a tutor and, who knows, one day you, Augustus,

may add the Talmann name to the Royal Society.

Augustus.

Your tutor of course must be German.

There are far too many English influences on your life as it is.

Mr Neville is our resident draughtsman.

He is making drawings of Mr Herbert's house and estate.

I've heard of your prowess, Mr Neville. I've heard more than that.

I hear you're not a conventional man.

Mr Neville has planned his stay here like an officer in a hostile billet.

We have orders to appear and disappear,

to wear cocked hats, eat meals in the open air

and to prepare furniture for inspection.

And yet, Louis,

I hear that you're not averse to exchanging exercise

on a new horse for standing to attention in the hot sun

like a halberdier.

What control you must exercise, Mr Neville.

It sounds as if you might be better employed as a military man

rather than as someone who merely draws a landscape.

Mrs Herbert, whatever is the price you must pay

to capture this general who leads the wheat by the ear.

Mrs Herbert pays no price she cannot afford.

Thanks to her generosity, I am permitted to take my pleasure

without hindrance on her property.

And to enjoy the maturing delights of her country garden.

And, gentlemen,

there is much there to be surprised at

and applauded.

THEY APPLAUD

Board!

-Good afternoon, Mr Talmann.

-Good afternoon, Mr Neville.

You are late. I heard the clock strike four some minutes ago.

That is indeed true. I met Mr Porringer.

I'm becoming his taster of victuals. Does the same thing happen to you?

Today, it was raspberries.

I congratulate you on today's raspberries

but not on yesterday's damsons.

They were tasteless, "geschmacklos".

Like your coat, Mr Talmann.

There is no way that I was going to wear that coat a third day.

We are indeed losing the novelty of this situation.

First I was graced with the presence of Mrs Talmann,

two servants, a maid and a meal on silver-plate.

Now what have we? Yourself dressed in the wrong clothes.

Mr Neville, enough. Your enthusiasm for complaint knows no limit.

For a fee of £8, your impertinence is too expensive.

Would you have me be impertinent for nothing?

For nothing, I would have you run off my property. Good day!

Your property, Mr Talmann?

Mr Talmann, you've forgotten your riding-boots.

They are not mine, Mr Neville.

I felt sure that they were yours.

Why doesn't your husband have the moat cleaned out?

He doesn't like to see the fish. Carp live too long.

They remind him of Catholics.

Besides from his window, the duckweed could be mistaken for lawn.

Can he swim?

I've never seen him swim.

Good morning, Mrs Herbert.

This morning I'm progressing well.

I am beginning to enjoy myself.

Madam, would you be so good as to sit?

It's a little chilly perhaps, but I think you tremble too much.

It is not easy for me this way to use your person as I would like to.

Madam, would you stand?

The ladder, as you can see, has now become a meretricious vertical.

But I forgive you for standing it there.

What use have I for the ladder, Mr Neville? It does not go anywhere.

Madam, would you be so good as to kneel?

Kneel, madam.

If you have any influence over your son-in-law,

can I suggest that he travel over to Mr Seymour's

to see what can be done with limes

by doing as little as possible.

Limes, madam,

can smell so sweet.

Especially when they are allowed to bloom without hindrance.

And it will shortly be time to bloom.

Is it true you would wish to see Mr Herbert dead?

I've no great love for Mr Herbert.

-Goodness, Mr Neville, a provocative question.

-Then why stay?

Mr Noyes has a great attachment to my mother, Mr Neville.

I'm employed by Mr Herbert as Estate Manager.

Mr Herbert is often away and I can make myself useful to Mrs Herbert.

In more ways than one, I presume.

But is it not that way which is most important?

Your questions are far too imprudent and provocative in this company.

You would rather I asked them behind your back?

Mr Noyes' position in this house is well known to us all, Mr Neville.

It is a difficult position.

I'm surprised that you all concur in it.

The organisation of this house is Mr Herbert's affair.

My father and Mr Noyes were once great friends.

And then?

My mother was at one time promised to Mr Noyes.

Ah, your position, Mr Noyes, is then a consolation.

You overstep your privileges being a guest in Mrs Herbert's house.

Sit down, Mr Noyes. I merely pursue an enquiry.

It may help me understand what is happening in the garden.

That shirt, Mr Neville, is prominent enough in your drawing.

Would it be possible to disguise its presence?

Madam, I try very hard never to distort or to dissemble.

-Would that always be your method of working?

-It would.

Well...

let me make a little speech.

In your drawing of the north side of the house,

my father's cloak lies wrapped around a figure of Bacchus.

In the drawing of the prospect over which my husband turns an appreciative gaze,

you will have noticed that there is unclaimed a pair of riding boots.

In the drawing of the park from the east side,

it is possible to see leaning against my father's wardroom

a ladder usually put to use for the collecting of apples.

And in the drawing of the laundry,

there is a jacket of my father's slit across the chest.

Do you not think that before long you might find the body

that inhabited all those clothes?

I am thinking very hard about the drawing you've left out.

-And you, madam, were IN that drawing.

-Are you sure?

The sound of you was in the drawing. You were playing the spinet.

I thought that we had discussed the pictorial equivalents of noise without conclusion.

Perhaps it was not me playing the spinet. Have you thought of that?

Then who was it?

You see, you are already beginning to play the game rather skilfully.

Four garments and a ladder do not lead us to a corpse.

Mr Neville, I said nothing about a corpse.

Madam, you are ingenious.

It is as if you had planned it.

Your father is in Southampton.

He would not miss his clothes or notice the ladder.

Is my father in Southampton, Mr Neville?

My mother told you that.

And you must realise that she is a lady of few words

and not incapable of a few stratagems.

Haven't you thought how hard she persuaded you to be her draughtsman

to draw her husband's house while her husband was away?

Her explanation can be supported.

Perhaps you have taken a great deal on trust.

I look forward to the purpose and outcome of this ingenuity.

My last six drawings will be redolent of the mystery.

I will proceed step by step to the heart of the matter.

Perhaps to the heart of my father, Mr Neville?

Lying crimson on a piece of green grass?

What a pity that your drawings are in black and white.

You rush ahead.

The items are innocent.

Taken one by one, they could so be construed.

Taken together, you could be regarded as a witness to misadventure.

Misadventure, madam?

-What misadventure? There is no misadventure.

-More than a witness.

An accessory to misadventure.

Madam, you are fanciful.

Mr Neville, I have grown to believe that a really intelligent man

makes an indifferent painter.

For painting requires a certain blindness.

A partial refusal to be aware of all the options.

An intelligent man will know more about what he is drawing than he will see.

In the space between knowing and seeing, he will become constrained.

Unable to pursue an idea strongly.

Fearing that the discerning, those who he is eager to please,

will find him wanting if he does not put in not only what he knows,

but what they know as well.

You, Mr Neville,

if you are an intelligent man and thus an indifferent painter,

will perceive that a construction such as I have suggested

could well be placed on the evidence contained in your drawing.

If you are, as I have heard tell, a talented draughtsman,

then I imagine that you could suppose the objects I have drawn your attention to

form no plan, stratagem or indictment.

Indictment, madam?

You are ingenious.

I am allowed to be neither of the two things I wish to be at the same time.

I propose, since I am in a position to throw a connecting plot

over the inconsequential items in your drawing,

an interpretative plot that I could explain to others

to account for my father's disappearance.

There is no word now of my father arriving in Southampton.

I propose that we could come to some arrangement

that might protect you

and humour me.

I suggest that we come to a similar arrangement

as you have struck with my mother.

I would like you now to accompany me to the library

where I know that Mr Noyes is waiting for us.

'And for each remaining drawing to agree.

'And for each remaining drawing to agree.

'To meet Mrs Talmann in private.

'To agree to meet Mrs Talmann in private.'

And to comply with her requests concerning her pleasure with me.

And to comply with her requests concerning her pleasure with me.

'Drawing number seven.

'From seven o'clock in the morning until nine,

'the front prospect of the house will be kept clear of

'members of the household, household servants, horses and carriages.

'Drawing number eight.

'From nine o'clock in the morning until 11,

'the gardens in front of the bath house building will be kept clear.

'No coals will be burnt to cause smoke to issue from the bath house chimney.'

'From 11 o'clock in the morning until one,

'the yew tree walk in the centre of the lower garden

'will be kept completely clear of all members of Mr Herbert's family,

'his household staff and animals.'

It is time, Mr Neville.

'From two o'clock in the afternoon until four,

'the back of the house and the sheep pasture on the eastern side

'will be kept free of all members of the household and farm servants.'

The reason I suggested you come here

is because I have borrowed this painting from the house.

Madam, would you stand?

Are you not intrigued by it?

I confess I have paid it little attention.

Your husband surprises me with his eccentric and eclectic taste.

Whilst most of his peers are content to collect portraits,

mostly of an edifying family connection, Mr Herbert seems to collect anything.

Perhaps he has eye for optical theory.

Or the plight of lovers.

Or the passing of time.

What do you think?

Perhaps, madam, he has -

and I would stand by him in this -

an interest in the pictorial conceit.

Can you see why your husband had reason to buy it?

It's of a garden. That is probably reason enough.

True, but what of the events that are happening within it?

Shall we peruse it together?

Do you see, madam, a narrative in these apparently unrelated episodes?

There is drama, is there not, in this overpopulated garden.

What intrigue is here?

Do you think the characters have something to tell us?

Would you know, madam, if your daughter...

had any particular interest in this painting?

Madam, could you put a season to it?

Madam, do you have an opinion?

What infidelities are portrayed here?

Do you think that murder is being prepared?

Did you hear that a horse had been found at Strides

which is about three miles from here on the road

that if followed long enough could lead you to Southampton.

I will stay dressed, Mr Neville, you will not.

Mr Clarke says the horse has been badly treated.

It could be said that all roads can lead to Southampton if the traveller on horse is ingenious enough.

I've heard of a horse that found its way to Dover.

Boarded a ship taking hay to Calais.

The French, madam, do not treat horses kindly.

They eat them.

Was your horse partly eaten, madam? May I leave my hat on?

Your chair looks insignificant out there, Mr Neville.

What significant assumption are we to make, madam,

of a wounded horse belonging to your father found on the road to Southampton?

The first assumption is that the horse has no business being there without my father

and why is it wounded?

And what does that imply for my father?

And the second assumption will no doubt implicate me

since a saddle-less horse has now found its way into this morning's drawing.

Mrs Talmann, why don't you now leave the window and come to the basin?

Don't worry, your position of superiority won't be diminished.

I will still have to look up to you.

Since I have taken valuable time to fill this basin with a little water,

why not share it with me?

DOG WHIMPERS

You have a curious mole, Mrs Herbert

and it is ideally placed.

Does your gardener catch moles, Mrs Herbert?

No, he says they are to be encouraged for good luck

and the destruction of one's enemies.

They trip up horses, Mrs Herbert.

You will not persuade Mr Porringer to persecute them.

-A curious man and ideally placed.

-Ideally placed for what?

Why, for persuading a fine white horse from Southampton

to go lame in the leg.

You have nothing to fear from Mr Porringer, Mr Neville.

He watches you for his own amusement.

As I do you, madam.

You seem nonetheless to be curiously keen to protect your gardener.

It is not you, madam, but his breeches that are his best defence.

A man in red breeches could scarcely be considered

an inconspicuous conspirator, madam.

Unlike that other fool who behaves like a statue when you least expect.

Away from the house, Mr Neville,

I feel I grow smaller in significance.

Madam, what signifies, does not grow smaller for me.

Your significance, Mr Neville is attributable to both innocence

and arrogance in equal parts.

You can handle both with impunity, Mrs Talman.

But you will find that they are not symmetrical.

You will find that one weighs heavier than the other.

Which do you think is the heavier, Mrs Talman?

Your innocence, Mr Neville is always sinister.

So I will say that the right one is the heaviest.

Madam, your dexterity is admirable.

-You spend too much time with Mr Neville.

-How is that?

The man is a pariah.

He eats like a vagrant and dresses like a barber.

What compliments. I think he would be amused.

As for his servant, he looks like a fleece with a foot disease.

Do you not think Mr Neville is knowledgeable?

About what?

About what, madam?

Madam, I could take your silence as provocation.

And why, sir, should I wish to provoke you?

To excite me to think that you might wish to compliment Mr Neville

with more than praise for his knowledgability.

The complexity of your speech does you credit, Louis, but it far exceeds

the complexity of any relationship I might have with Mr Neville

which is indeed very simple.

He's a paid servant of my mother's, bound by a contract.

That is all. I'm encouraged by my mother to see him honour it.

Is his pleasure in your encouragement so necessary?

Although Mr Neville has qualities,

he is neither as intelligent nor as talented as he thinks.

Both characteristics you have observed from the start, Louis.

Though I admit more by prejudice than by observation.

I understand that you will be leaving us tonight, Mr Neville.

With Mrs Herbert's permission, I will be leaving after the arrival of Mr Herbert

and after he has passed an opinion on the drawings of his house.

If my servant has obtained a vehicle, I will be leaving in the morning.

And, of course, Mr Neville, the sooner the better, as you expected me to say.

You, sir, have acquainted me with your opinion on drawing

on horticulture, the Roman church, childbearing

the place of women in English life, the history and politics of Lubeck

and the training of dogs.

So I am in a fair position to anticipate your opinions as to my departure.

Is Radstock to greet you with such devoted hospitality?

Mr Talmann, sir, I have been treated with as great hospitality

as I could wish for in Mrs Herbert's house.

Your drawings are full of the most unexpected observation, Mr Neville.

Looking at them is akin to pursuing a complicated allegory.

-Are you sure this ladder was there?

-Indisputably.

-And what's this? It looks like...

-Whatever it is, it was there.

-Mrs Talmann will confirm it.

-How is that?

How will my wife confirm it?

Mr Neville is probably too encompassing in his statement.

I can, however, confirm the sighting of a ladder.

-It is propped against my father's withdrawing room.

-It is indeed madam.

You have an exact knowledge.

As exact a knowledge as though, madam, you had placed it there yourself, would you say?

Mr Neville, if ever I had such a mind to,

I would have found it impossible to have lifted it.

It would have taken two men.

Stop! Away!

What do you want, Mr Clarke?

Can you come with me, sir? It's important.

It is most important that I speak with you.

-I cannot now, Thomas.

-I am in a position to insist.

After what has happened, I refuse to speak to you now.

Take care of affairs yourself or, in the last resort, ask Mr Talmann.

Telling Mr Talman what is on my mind will not help you.

What do you mean?

I am sure I'm shortly to be accused of the murder of your husband

and I'm determined to confront that eventuality well protected.

-And who will accuse you?

-Firstly, I think will be your son-in-law,

abetted and witnessed probably by his servants.

-How can that be?

-I need your assistance.

To what end? If my son-in-law believes that you're guilty of the murder of Mr Herbert.

Leave me.

-Maria!

-Calling your servants is not going to help.

-What do you mean? Maria!

-I mean the draughtsman's contract.

What of it? Maria, call Mr Talmann.

I mean your contractual obligations to Mr Neville.

-What of them?

-Madam, you are disingenuous beyond words.

Maria, don't bother to call Mr Talmann. Fetch me instead a...

Fetch me nothing. I'm not thirsty just at present.

Now... Mr Noyes, what are you inferring?

I am to be unjustly and unscrupulously accused

-of the murder of your husband.

-On what grounds?

That I was the most likely person to have done it.

That I was the only person, except your servants,

to know of Mr Herbert's return on Friday.

That I am culpable because of my known feelings towards your husband.

That is ridiculous, there was...

And I am the only person in the group of people you are about to mention

who was not at home awaiting the arrival of Mr Herbert.

And, further, because of my known feelings towards you.

Is all that sufficient reason?

There is more. Mr Herbert's study is mysteriously littered

with papers and my gloves are there.

Now against this conspiracy, I need your protection...

and more.

If you're guilty, Thomas, you shall have neither.

With Mr Neville's contract, madam, I shall have them both.

For your protection and for 700 guineas,

I will trade you the contract of your infidelities.

I have no money. 700 is a calculated sum.

I will trade you the contract for the drawings.

You have 12 drawings and Mr Neville has a reputation.

What, for 12 drawings executed privately?

Consider, madam. The drawings could be construed as an embarrassment to you.

And the original purpose and significance of the drawings, as a gift to your husband, is absolved.

Those drawings, Mr Noyes, have cost me too much already.

They may cost you a great deal more.

They may cost you possibly everything.

An adulteress with a dead husband is no reputation to relish.

And Mr Neville?

What of Mr Neville? He's gone to Radcot.

-What part is he in this stratagem?

-He is not part of my stratagem.

He could be party to a future arrangement with the same intent.

You paid him a fee, madam, and you offered him full board on your property during the commission.

To the prying eye that is as much as he is usually worth.

With the contract in your hand and destroyed

why should the world think you have offered him more?

-Where is that contract now?

-I have it here.

-Where are the drawings?

-What would be said if I no longer had the drawings?

That you destroyed them.

For without your husband they were valueless to you.

What would happen if it were known that they were for sale?

Your stratagem is weak.

That you sold them in order to afford a memorial to your husband

or alternatively, that you sold them in order to rid the house

of something which pains you each time you look at them.

You once asked me if I could supply you with a ribald piece of gossip.

And I remember your friendly gesture at the time.

Madam, you Romans know how to be charitable.

I can supply you with a little more than gossip.

I am in a position to invite you

to help me elaborate and decorate such an item. An entertaining item.

We need not work too hard

for the rump of the matter has been well laid.

What real benefit do you think I might gain from this exercise?

Amusement and a certain delight in a symmetrical stratagem.

And the satisfaction that our betters might be discomforted.

And who knows, perhaps two parterres and a grove of orange trees.

If Mrs Herbert is generous.

And why Mrs Herbert?

Because I think you will find she is mistress of strategy.

If you do not benefit from her directly, I think, by and by, if you wait a few years,

then you will achieve them from me as a token of my esteem.

From the same source?

Madam, I think you have understood me.

A monument would need a designer. Would a certain pecuniary draughtsman

be eager to sign another contract?

As far as I am aware, the idea is Mrs Herbert's.

Though the expenses might be laid at Mr Neville's door.

-An about face.

-It is his drawings that are to be sold.

Not more of his talent.

By Mr Neville's growing reputation, 12 drawings could be profitably sold

to furnish a more solid and enduring monument.

It is said that Mr Neville is to be invited to The Hague.

If I had the wherewithal, I would advance Mrs Herbert

100 guineas straightaway for capital audacity for bravura in the face of grief.

Mr Herbert is no especial excuse for such generosity.

But how publicly directed is the gesture?

How could posterity doubt her affection?

-Just so.

-I shall offer 300 guineas. Not my own money, you understand.

My father-in-law's. He can afford it.

He collects, has no perspicacity, no knowledge.

I shall tell him that they are Italian.

Guido Reni. Modesta.

He shall hang them in the darkroom and they shall never be seen again.

That is a pity, for they are full of illuminating details.

Mr Neville moves forward in Mrs Herbert's susceptibilities

like a man pressing a life-work by slow stages.

Would there perhaps be an idea in Mr Neville's imagination

for a certain contract to cap them all?

On horseback, a dashing St George

looking like a Jacobite with...

With a palette for a shield and quiver full of brushes

and a pen held crosswise in his teeth.

With ink-stained fingers.

-What is in his fingers?

-Unmentionable.

-Another pen?

-It's like a pen.

-Is it a pen?

-A little pen.

The pen is mightier than the sword.

We will forward 400 guineas to this scabrous monument to a pen.

And our receipt will be Mr Neville's drawing in the bath-house.

-The one with the little dog.

-Wagging its tail.

Mrs Herbert does well to sell them. How much will they bring?

They are worth what those who buy them wish to pay.

Mr Seymour has tentatively offered 400 guineas.

I am inclined to think that he makes his offer generous

to Mrs Herbert in order to interest her in a larger and a grander sale.

-What other sale?

-Why, of course, of the house.

That was very forward of him.

I tested his ambition by suggesting that he might buy

a set of distinguished drawings of it.

Either way is a useful way to help Mrs Herbert

to a more profitable bargain and thereby to help her

demonstrate her loss in the knowledge that a larger sum would make

for a larger monument for her husband.

Mr Herbert, one way or another, stands to benefit

by Mr Neville's industry. As do we all, sir.

I fail to see, for a start, my benefit, or for that matter, yours.

Mr Talmann, you are disingenuous.

You, sir, as by your leave your future son's future guardian

stand in an enviable position. Consider the neatness of it.

The estate would have an endurable memorial

which is part of the landscape, instead of 12 perishable items

which are mere representations of it.

I fail to see why Mr Seymour's presumption should gain him a part of my son's inheritance.

-Maybe there, again, Mr Seymour will be doing you a favour.

-What do you mean?

By taking away the possibility of your son ever seeing them -

when you have one, as I'm sure you will.

Why should he not see them?

Because he might perceive the allegorical evidence in them

which you might be stubborn enough to deny.

Mr Neville had no use for allegory and I am unlikely to miss what my son would appreciate.

An allegorical meaning that might involve his mother.

What? My wife? How is that?

It is fancifully imputed, sir, that Mr Neville saw you as a deceived husband.

How was I deceived?

(SHOUTING) I've been convinced, Sarah, that you have been deceiving me!

-What is the matter with your voice?

-Damn my voice!

If you did, it would scare me less. What's the matter with your face?

-Your face, Louis, is very red.

-No redder than your backside

when Mr Neville had finished with it!

When your speech is as coarse as your face, Louis,

you sound as impotent by day as you perform by night.

Night and day, your behaviour has been coarse

and is now down in corresponding black and white

for all the world to peer at, whether the sun shines

or the wind blows, hot or cold.

Your speech, Louis, is becoming meteorological.

-Explain your conceit.

-It is no conceit, but Mr Neville's drawings.

I was sure you believed Mr Neville incapable of complicated meaning.

-What has he done now?

-It is mostly what he has undone.

It seems to be your person!

I have no control over Mr Neville's drawings.

He draws what he pleases.

He is not paid to draw for his own pleasure, nor for yours.

-What makes you think he has done that?

-The way it looks.

-How does it look?

-The way the world sees it.

The world! There cannot be that many people who have seen these drawings.

Who are these people that represent the world?

-Seymour, Noyes, the Poulencs.

-What do they see?

Enough to delight them, to exercise their tongues, to discuss patrimony.

Or the lack of it. They see then what they have long been searching for.

-Do you think?

-And that means?

An opportunity to braid you for not producing an heir.

Woman, it takes two.

It does indeed, sir.

You amaze me.

-What has that to do with Mr Neville?

-I could ask you that...

-You did not!

-You asked Mr Noyes.

-It was he who pointed it out to me.

With his long nose he could point you in any way he wishes.

Madam, you'll look at those drawings and you'll explain to me

why a ladder is placed under your window

and why your revolting little dog is outside the bath-house

and why your walking-clothes casually decorate the bushes of the yew-walk.

Your inventory, Louis, is unlimited like you long, clean, white breeches.

But there is nothing of substance in either of them.

Let me ask you.

Perhaps you can explain what your boots were doing in the sheep field.

-They were not my boots.

-Why was your undershirt idling

-on a hedge near the statue of Hermes?

-It was not my shirt!

Can you not see the drift of this domestic inquisition?

You are answering me as I could answer you.

You cannot deny it is your dog!

And whereas, with your final accusation.

You pursue the ambiguity of an abandoned sunshade.

You are complete on paper in a borrowed hat and a borrowed coat

and a borrowed shadow, I shouldn't wonder.

Posing with your knees tucked in and arse tucked out

and a face like a Dutch fig

and a supercilious Protestant whistle, I shouldn't wonder,

on your supercilious smug lips.

And Louis, you have always said that Mr Neville has no imagination.

He draws what he sees.

Whose patrimony were you aping then? My father's?

The world knows that he is dead

and is not certain who killed him.

The world might peer at those drawings.

and ask what conspiracy of inheritance

did Mr Neville have for you?

You are disreputable, madam.

You side with a tenant-farmer's son against your husband.

You have married the grandaughter of an army victualler.

There is nothing that I have said that suggests I side with Mr Neville.

I hope you will agree that he has been useful to us all.

What have you done with his drawings?

I've bought them for 600 guineas and plan to destroy them.

It would be a pity to destroy them.

You are concerned that posterity will know of your duplicity!

Louis...

they contain evidence of another kind.

A kind more valuable than that seized upon by those titillated

by a scandal that smears your honour.

Evidence that Mr Neville may be cogniscent to the death of my father.

Good morning, madam.

Mr Neville!

-Good morning, sir.

-Good morning.

Though the summer suddenly seems past and the weather less than good.

What has brought you back to Anstey? I thought our humble estate had seen the last of you.

I am staying at Radstock with the Duke of Lauderdale

and have come at the invitation of Mr Seymour

to find that curiously he is out and most of his house is shut up.

Mr Seymour, I understand, is in Southampton with my husband.

The funeral was three days ago and they are discussing property.

It would seem then that my visit is poorly timed.

May I ask after the health of your mother?

Although my mother was understandably disturbed by my father's death,

she is now, from the knowledge that her affection for my father can never be reciprocated, at ease.

-And what of yourself, madam?

-I am very well, Mr Neville. And we are thriving.

Mr Van Hoyten is to consider for us a new management of the grounds in an entirely fresh approach.

He has come at our request to soften the geometry that my father found to his taste,

and to introduce a new ease and complexion to the garden.

Mr Van Hoyten has worked in The Hague,

and he has presented Mr Talmann with some novel introductions

which we will commence next spring.

He is a draughtsman, too.

HE SPEAKS DUTCH

HE SPEAKS DUTCH

Mr Neville has come, Mother, as we both believed he might.

And he has brought with him a rare gift from Radstock.

Three pomegranates from Lauderdale's gardener,

reared in English soil, under an English sun.

But with the help, madam, of 100 panes of glass

and half a year's supply of artificial heat.

Thank you, Mr Neville.

We must see what we can do for you in return.

I was about to take Mr Van Hoyten to the river.

He has plans to make a dam and flood the lower field.

I will no doubt see you later, Mr Neville.

Flooded fields, madam?

Do you intend to join Anstey to the sea?

We are to have an ornamental lake.

My son-in-law has ambitions for his countrymen.

It is probably you that has opened his eyes to the possibilities of our landscape.

Why is this Dutchman wagging his arms about? Is he homesick for windmills?

SHE LAUGHS

Who knows? He's a man with new ideas. New ideas demand new methods, perhaps.

How was Radstock?

Fine enough, madam, but dull after the excitements of Anstey.

Ah! Have you now come here to renew those excitements?

-Madam, that would be presumptuous.

-It would indeed, sir.

All contracts have been honoured

and the body has been buried.

Madam, that was blunt.

I remember, sir, that you were blunt in your dealings with me.

I was glad to see Mrs Talmann and in all truth, put as much a possibility as I could

to see that a meeting with yourself might occur.

I was curious to see the house and gardens again.

To see what appearance they'd put on after this week of changing weather.

But I admit, madam, that it was out of curiosity to see you

that was behind the reason for my wishing to be invited to Mr Seymour's house.

Curiosity does not sound a very respectful reason to visit a lady. Even one you've had the pleasure of.

And is it really myself that is the centre of your interest and not my daughter?

-Yes, madam.

-Oh, how's that?

My former contractual obligations tied us together to MY advantage,

and at your husband's death, it was again I who gained and you who lost.

Very confident of that, Mr Neville.

I must confess that in losing, you have excited my curiosity further.

SHE SIGHS

How do you imagine my losses, Mr Neville?

Humiliations, madam. Each one exceeding the other.

Is losing a husband a humiliation, Mr Neville?

Madam, in making my arrangements here I concluded with the possibility of 13 sites,

one of which had to be rejected to comply with the 12 drawings as commissioned.

The site that was rejected was, as you will recall,

to the south of the house and included the monument to the horse.

It is the site where your husband's body was found.

It was that irony that was uppermost in enquiring minds at the discovery of Mr Herbert's body.

The 13th site was rejected for no clear reason.

It contained no view of the house, then that was true of several other of the drawings.

Possibly, it was the least characteristic of the garden's viewpoints,

and was most powerful at the least advantageous times of day.

And that is why, madam, with your permission, I would like, if I may

to attempt to accomplish that drawing this afternoon.

That is, if you have no objection.

Mr Neville, your approach is full of hesitant pleasantries.

Madam, that is because I am still unable to fully judge

your present feelings as to past events.

Mr Neville, suffice it to say that the object of my life has changed.

I am a widow, whereas I was a wife.

It could be construed that I was a widow whilst being a wife.

I've only exchanged a false position that made me unhappy for a true position

that has left me without any emotion.

Mr Neville, I propose to eat

and I propose that you should eat with me.

When we are ready, I will show, along with my gardener, Mr Porringer,

what we at Anstey are capable of cultivating.

It will be by way of returning your gift in kind.

And, who knows? It may be that we could revive one more time

a liaison, outside of a contract

to our mutual satisfaction.

And then you must accomplish your 13th drawing. Is all that acceptable to you?

Madam, it is as if you'd planned it.

I'm surprised...delighted.

Madam, I am overwhelmed.

Mr Neville, I will take all three states of your satisfaction into consideration.

I have quite legitimately, a freedom to exploit

and I might as well exploit it with you,

considering our past experience.

Pomegranate, Mr Neville.

Gift of Hades to Persephone.

Madam, my scholarship is not profound.

Unusual of you, Mr Neville, to profess to an ignorance of a subject

which before you would be anxious to have us believe

was an essential prerequisite to an artist's vocabulary.

Maybe, madam, I am hesitating to acknowledge an unintended allusion.

-SHE SIGHS

-By eating the fruit of the pomegranate, Mr Neville,

Pluto kept Persephone in the Underworld.

-A symbolic fruit, Mrs Herbert.

-And you've brought me three.

That was all, madam, that Mr Clancy would spare me.

Maybe Mr Clancy is a contriver of allusions.

How is that, Mrs Herbert? Are you acquainted with the man?

Having been tricked into eating the fruit of the pomegranate,

Persephone was forced to spend a period of each year underground.

During which time, as even Mr Porringer will tell you,

Persephone's mother, the goddess of fields of gardens and of orchards,

was distraught, heartbroken.

She sulks...

and she refuses, adamantly refuses, to bless the world with fruitfulness.

My Mr Porringer and your Mr Clancy try hard

to defeat the influence of the pomegranate,

by building places like these.

Don't you think?

And having built them and stocked them and patiently tended them,

what do they grow?

Why...the pomegranate!

And we are turned full circle again.

Certainly a cautionary tale for gardeners, madam.

And for mothers with daughters, Mr Neville.

But who knows, madam?

Pomegranates grown in England might not have such unhappy allegorical significance.

DOOR SLAMS

Plants from the hothouse, according to Mr Porringer, are seldom fertile.

Fertile enough, Mrs Talmann to engender felicitous allusions

if not their own offspring.

-And, of course, there are more.

-More of what, madam?

We well know your delight in the visual conceit.

The juice of the pomegranate may be taken for...

..blood.

And in particular the blood of the newborn.

And of murder.

Then thanks to your botanical scholarship,

you must find it cruelly apt that I was persuaded to bring such fruit.

Mr Neville, I suspect that you were innocent in the insight,

as you have been innocent of much else.

HE GASPS Innocent, madam?

By impute I was convinced you thought me guilty,

certainly of opportunism, probably of murder.

What I do think you guilty of, I do not at all reproach you for.

In our need of an heir, you may very likely have served us well.

Madam?

We had a contract, did we not?

You do not think I would have signed so much for pleasure alone?

-Madam, that was ingenious.

-No.

Since when has adultery been ingenious?

Mr Neville, you are ridiculous.

And why should you have murdered Mr Herbert? For what reason?

Mr Talmann believes I had reason enough.

Yes, Mr Talmann is in Southampton still trying to find, or invent,

some responsibility for you in the matter.

He will not forgive your indiscretion with Sarah.

But he won't disown his wife, for then he would lose Anstey.

I am sure that Mr Talmann is not in Southampton

for did I not see him on the carriage drive here this afternoon?

I think not. He is in Southampton, with Mr Seymour.

I do not think that Mr Seymour can be in Southampton.

For he stopped my servant this morning at Radstock to ask after me.

And on the understanding that I had some hope of seeing you

was according to my servant, more than pleased.

I am convinced that we will see him this afternoon.

I confess, I am surprised, Mr Neville, if that is the case. I will enquire.

Sarah, ask Mr Porringer to get Mr Neville a chair.

He intends to make a drawing for me in the garden, by that horse.

And, Sarah, ask Mr Porringer to bring Mr Neville a pineapple.

A small one, they're sweeter.

-You would care to try a pineapple, would you not?

-Madam, I would be delighted.

Good evening, Mr Neville.

Good evening, sir.

And why, Mr Neville, do we find you here so late?

Surely the light is now too poor to see adequately.

-That is true. I am finished.

-Good.

Perhaps I could see it?

If we had light, that might be possible.

I'm sure we can find some light.

But it is not finished, Mr Neville.

No, Mr Talmann, it is not.

You may successfully hide your face in the dark

but in England it is not easy for you, surely sir, to hide your accent.

I did not think to hide my identity for long, Mr Neville,

which even in the eyes of the English is no special crime

compared with the identity you care to assume with such ease.

-And what identity might that be?

-The identity of a man of some little talent

some dubious honour, a proper dealer in contracts.

The identity of a man with an eye to the improper pursuit of dishonour to others.

You talk, Mr Talmann, like one who has learnt abroad

an archaic way of speaking that became unfashionable when my grandfather was a young man.

My speech is in no way dependable on your view of fashion.

We all know that in the field of deeds and of talent you in your field are an innovator.

That must be some sort of flattery, Mr Talmann.

Have your companions also come to flatter?

We have come merely as curious observers, Mr Neville,

to wonder why, after so much has happened, you return to continue

to fix Mr Herbert's property on paper and chose to draw this particular site?

I might be inclined to answer those questions, Mr Seymour,

if I didn't feel that the truthful answers I would give would in no way be of interest to you.

It is our belief, Mr Neville, that in returning here you are seeking a codicil to your original contract.

A codicil of a more permanent nature than the last one.

-A lasting contract with a widow.

-You speak, of course, Mr Talmann, like a disinherited man.

Uninterested in painting or draughtsmanship.

Uninterested even in the prospect of the estate you covet from this position.

An ideal site for a memorial, perhaps.

Do you think Mr Herbert would have appreciated the prospect of his estate?

As a landowner yourself, Mr Seymour, I leave you to judge.

For a man of property it is a view that might be enviable.

Though I think you're wrong to ascribe those enviable thoughts to me.

Perhaps they should be ascribed to my friend Mr Noyes who is, I think, standing beside me.

A custodian of contracts.

A man who was given custody of private agreements in black and white.

And how do you feel, Mr Neville, that Mr Herbert felt about these black-and-white contracts?

As his agent, his bailiff, his notary his one-time friend,

the close, though not close enough confidant of his wife.

I would have thought you would be the best person to answer that.

It is curious that you persist in asking me questions which you are the most suitably situated to answer!

It has occurred to me that you, Mr Noyes, might have advanced Mr Herbert the information

that was so discretionally set down in black and white.

Whether he could have appreciated what it stood for is another matter. He was blind to so much.

Certainly blind to considerable unhappiness.

Your understanding of Mrs Herbert's unhappiness could in no way be considered profound or relevant.

I had access to some considerable observation of her state of mind.

You won't forget that I was helped in that respect by her daughter, your wife, sir.

And was persistently persuaded by both ladies to undertake the commission in the first place.

And they persuaded you, sir, with a view that you might reconcile differences and not plunder them.

I am in no way responsible for Mr Herbert's death.

The affair is a mystery to me, though I have suspicions Mr Talmann, Mr Seymour, Mr Noyes,

and if they were here, indeed of Mrs Herbert herself and Mrs Talmann.

Ladies who both after all entered willingly into their contracts.

Is that why, Mr Neville, you have just abused Mrs Herbert further?

Ah...

What a pity.

That was clever.

We now have a contract with you, Mr Neville

and under conditions of our choosing.

The contract concerning our present pleasure has three conditions.

It would be best served when you have removed your finery.

Take off you hat, sir.

HE SCOFFS

My hat, gentlemen, has no contractual obligations with anyone.

THUDDING

The contract's first condition, Mr Neville,

and there's no need to write it down for you will never see it, is to cancel your eyes.

HE SCREAMS IN PAIN

Since we have now deprived you of your access to a living,

this shirt on your back will be of no value to you.