The Murdoch Mysteries (2004) s06e11 Episode Script

What have we, George? Sir, he's as yet unidentified.
Young Mr.
Hawkins here discovered him at first light.
He summoned a patrolling constable.
Oh, that's a good lad.
Um, do you recognize - the pitchfork? - Yes, sir.
- I use it to muck out the stalls.
- Mm.
Did you walk - around the body at all? - No, sir.
I saw him when I arrived.
I didn't come in.
I was scared.
Yes, of course.
Anyone would have been.
- Do you know this man? - Yes, sir.
- Do you know his name? - No, but he gives me a few coppers to brush down his horse when he comes to the hotel.
Was he a frequent visitor? Fairly so.
Right then, George, I'll need my footprint-casting kit.
Sir, right away.
Good job, son.
Tundall, no one in or out.
Understand? - Right.
- Constable! Constable! Help me.
- Oh, please, help me.
- Madame, what's wrong? I need the protection of the Toronto Constabulary.
I'm being confined against my will.
- Sir! - Oh, I beg you.
Please take me to a place of safety.
What is it, George? Sir, this woman claims to be - Miss Dawes! - It's too late.
She's discovered my ruse.
Thank the blessed Lord you've come to no harm.
Don't be deceived by her piety.
- Uh, what's going on here? - This is Miss Felicity Dawes, sir.
And you are? Miss Isabel Webster, Miss Dawes' nurse.
Uh Miss Dawes, is this your nurse? Isabel? Of course she is.
Why are you asking? Are you or are you not being held against your will? Of course not! Miss Dawes is not of sound mind.
She has a vivid imagination and is easily alarmed.
Ah, so this is all a big misunderstanding, then.
Thank you, Miss Webster.
Who will care for his beloved horse now he has died? - Now that who has died? - My fiancé.
He was killed - in the stables last night.
- Miss Dawes, you must rest now.
- Excuse us, gentlemen.
- Oh, will you take his horse? She's a real beauty.
Well, apparently our stable boy wasn't the only one to see the dead body.
The question is, is Miss Dawes a witness, or the murderer? I'll be with you in just a moment, Dr.
Grace.
Take your time, Detective.
I don't believe our corpse is going anywhere.
Doctor.
- Constable.
- Always a pleasure.
What have you, George? Sir, the deceased fits the description of a Tobias Pincher, who was seen last evening in the lounge of the Imperial Hotel playing dice.
- Very good.
- That's not all, sir.
Mr.
Pincher was indeed Miss Dawes' fiancé.
Where is Miss Dawes now? - Close by, sir.
She lives in a suite of rooms at the hotel.
- Good morning, Doctor.
Good day, everyone.
Dr.
Ogden.
Thank you for coming so quickly.
Miss Dawes knows details about her fiancé's murder only a witness could know.
Or the murderer.
What exactly are her eccentricities? According to her nurse, she's quite deranged and imagines things.
That's more than eccentric, William.
- That's why I need you to speak with her.
- Miss Dawes, My name is Julia Ogden.
I am a psychiatrist.
Oh! How fascinating.
Isabel, serve our guests - a sherry before lunch.
- Th that won't be necessary.
Nothing like a sherry to calm the nerves.
Please sit.
We don't get many visitors here with the severity of the winter storms.
I'm very sorry to hear about the loss of your fiancé, Miss Dawes.
Thank you.
We were to marry in two weeks, you know.
Now my wedding party will be a funeral.
Had you known Mr.
Pincher long? It's been almost six months, ma'am.
Really? It seems as if we just met yesterday.
- Have you been with Miss Dawes all of that time? - Longer, sir.
I've worked for the mistress nigh on seven years.
And did you see her last night? I looked in on her at 11 o'clock.
She was asleep.
Is it possible that she could leave her rooms without your knowledge? It's possible.
She often wanders.
The death of someone close to you must be a terrible shock.
Dead? Is someone dead? Why didn't you tell me? A Tobias Pincher.
Tobias is dead? I'm afraid so.
The pitchfork has penetrated quite deep.
The prongs punctured his stomach and any number of internal organs.
- Thank you, Dr.
Grace.
- Sir.
Sir, I found a wallet in the straw.
I believe it's Mr.
Pincher's.
Right.
We'll bring it to the stationhouse.
What kind of man would willingly marry a woman who's clearly not in control of her faculties? I saw the pitchfork clearly.
So you remember? Of course I remember.
- It was a horrible way to die.
- And a terrible thing for you to witness, Miss Dawes.
Were you nearby? Were you in the stable? I don't know.
Perhaps it was just a dream.
Is that possible? It is.
But perhaps something elicited the dream something you saw or perhaps overheard.
Do you recall any such event? You are so kind, Doctor.
I feel so reassured in your presence.
So, you don't recall any violent memory a sight, or a sound? No not at the moment.
Miss Dawes, with your permission, I would like to speak with you further.
Would you be willing to come to my office? Doctor, how exciting.
- Well, good.
We can arrange f - Isabel! Isabel! Oh, this is most wonderful.
Isabel, the doctor is arranging our passage at last.
Pack my warmest clothes for the journey.
And make sure we have enough blankets for the sleigh.
- Yes, madam.
- I look forward to seeing you again.
And I you.
I can't thank you enough.
I thought I would never see Moscow.
I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Dawes.
Does Miss Dawes often create imaginary scenarios? I shouldn't like to speculate on her condition, Doctor.
As much as I appreciate your loyalty, Miss Webster, any information you have could be helpful in diagnosing her condition.
- If you think it will help.
- I do.
Her imaginings have been getting worse.
She often thinks of herself as a character from a story.
Do they last long? She usually forgets them after a time.
Moscow I've heard before she loves the Russian classics but the stable, that's a new one.
A pitchfork isn't a common murder weapon.
But very convenient if you're killing someone in a stable.
Very good, sir.
It also suggests that the murder wasn't planned.
- Any fingermarks? - Only that of the stable boy's.
- The murderer wore gloves.
- Sirs, I've discovered Tobias Pincher had something of a chequered past.
- How so? - He's a known gambler, sir.
He had debts from Kingston to Etobicoke.
Miss Dawes, on the other hand, had inherited a substantial fortune.
So he was marrying her money, not her.
Sounds like she got lucky.
I also found a man who was with Mr.
Pincher last night.
We were engaged in a lively game of dice.
- How lively? - We'd all had a bit to drink.
- Including Mr.
Pincher? - Oh, he was buying.
Thought that was a good way to run his cheat on us.
What time did the game end? Around 11 o'clock.
Was that the last time you saw him? I spotted him in the courtyard not long after, in a heated conversation with one of the players.
Oh.
Who was this? I don't know his name.
He was a guest at the hotel.
A foreigner.
"Smith, Green, Roberts, Jones, - Rodri-gueeze Rodri-gwez?" - Rodriguez.
Well, sounds foreign to me, sir.
- Mmm.
- Room 206.
We'd like to speak to your guest Mr.
Carl Rodriguez, - please, in 206.
- Sorry, Detective.
He just checked out.
When was this? Just, uh, moments ago.
George.
I'll need the key to Room 206, please.
- Certainly, sir.
- Oh, Darcy.
The key, sir.
Sir, the key.
- Sir, the key.
- Hmm? Yes, thank you.
You're welcome.
Excuse me, sir.
Did you see anybody go in there? Why, uh, just a a moment ago, sir.
You in there! Toronto Constabulary! Ugh! You're coming with me.
- I've done nothing wrong.
- Then why were you running?! You're pretty fast on your feet there, Constable.
Thanks, old timer.
You are a visitor to Canada, Mr.
Rodriguez? Yes.
From Madrid.
I'm here on business.
Business? Yes.
I export fine jewellery.
I am here for meetings with Mr.
Henry Birks.
What is this about? Where were you last night? Playing dice at the Imperial Hotel.
If I may, how did you come by that bruise? I observed one of the players cheating.
After the match, I challenged him.
This was his response.
Which player was this? Mr.
Pincher was his name, I believe.
What time and where did this altercation take place? Some time after 11 o'clock, in the hotel courtyard.
I see.
Mr.
Pincher was killed last night.
I know nothing about that.
These are your boots, yes? Which I found in your room.
They match these footprint castings perfectly.
How do you explain that? I cannot, Detective.
Where were you last night after 11 o'clock? In my room.
Alone.
Do you have anything else you'd like to tell me, Mr.
Rodriguez? Well, then, perhaps a night in our cells will help refresh your memory.
Do you think I am mad, Doctor? No, I don't.
Then why am I here? You are having distressing thoughts, and I might be able to help you.
I'd like you to take yourself into the stable dream again.
The stable? Tell me what you saw.
It was dark in there.
There were horses in the stable.
A church bell rings midnight.
- A church bell? - Yes.
It was loud enough to startle the horses.
Then I saw a man.
What did he look like? He was in the shadows; I couldn't see him.
The pitchfork.
Who is holding the pitchfork? Tobias was there.
He looked terrified.
Oh, my God.
What is it, Miss Dawes? It was me.
Oh, my God, I killed him.
Did you love your fiancé, Miss Dawes? I think I did.
Why would you want to harm him? What do you mean? I'm sorry, I I must leave.
I must prepare the house for winter.
Isabel.
Where's Isabel? Oh, there you are.
- We have to go.
- Is everything all right? You can take her home now.
But you're not to let her out of your sight.
Of course.
We will be home soon, madam.
Don't you worry.
Can you help her, Doctor? I'm not sure.
- But you will see her tomorrow? - Yes, yes, of course.
Let us go, madam.
Yes.
We shouldn't keep the woodcutters waiting.
Sleep well? I've been in worse places.
Detective, I have told you all I know.
I had an argument with Mr.
Pincher.
Then I left and returned to my room.
Mr.
Rodriguez, I now have evidence that you were inside the stables.
I was not.
I suggest you start telling the truth, sunshine.
George, could you please fetch my fingermark kit? Sir.
Well, that's part of the job I must say I don't miss.
I consider it a form of callisthenics.
What did you want to see? The wounds.
- These were made by a pitchfork? - Yes.
- How deep are they? - Four-and-an-eighth inches.
Dr.
Ogden? I'm trying to determine if this blow could have been struck by a woman - a somewhat frail woman.
- If she were determined enough.
Yes.
Thank you.
But it probably wasn't a woman.
Constable Crabtree told me they arrested a likely culprit yesterday.
Tobias Pincher's wallet.
And your fingermarks were found on it.
How do you explain that.
I can't.
You had a fight with the victim, your footprints were found near his body, and now your fingermarks on his wallet.
Are you yet ready to tell me what really happened? I followed Pincher in the stable.
I accused him of cheating at dice.
He handed me his wallet, telling me to take the money.
That is why you have found my fingermarks.
I held his wallet, but I did not kill him.
May I go now? You wanted to talk to me? Yes.
Um, Julia, it's a matter of some delicacy.
Go ahead.
While I was at the Imperial Hotel, I saw Darcy.
He was with a woman.
Oh.
Perhaps his sister? She visits often.
I don't think it was his sister, Julia.
They were coming down from the rooms.
Ah.
So, Darcy has a lady friend.
Not that it makes any difference.
Of course it makes a difference.
No.
In order to petition against him I have to prove adultery and cruelty.
You know this.
Yes, I know this, but surely now you can appeal to him.
- He can't possibly refuse you.
- He won't listen! He's determined to punish me.
- Julia, you can't ignore this.
- I don't intend to.
I will speak to Darcy when I'm ready.
I hear you have a suspect in the stable case.
Yes, I do.
What did you learn from your interview with Miss Dawes? Only that she's prone to the fantastical.
Perhaps I should interview her myself.
I don't think so, William.
She's she's quite delusional.
Julia, she's a potential witness to a murder.
I need to speak with her.
I'd like to sit in on your interview, as her doctor, William.
Has she something to hide? Miss Webster, if you could please wait outside? - I accompany Miss Dawes everywhere.
- Oh, it's all right, Isabel.
I'm more than happy to talk to the detective.
Detective, has anyone ever told you you're a handsome man? Uh We should be in there, you know.
- She's not in her right mind.
- Miss Dawes, how did you find out your fiancé had been killed? Surely the doctor told you, Detective.
- Told me what? - It was me.
I killed him.
It was you? I took the pitchfork and stabbed him.
You stabbed him? Mr.
Rodriguez.
Make sure you don't leave Toronto, sir.
We'll have men watching you.
- Are you quite sure? - I had no choice.
He had to be stopped.
Tobias was going to kill him.
Was going to kill whom? Tristan.
Tristan? Tristan Clavelle.
Miss Dawes um, if someone had stolen money from you, in your room, would it be right to kill them? Of course not.
And if they had hurt you? Of course not.
You should have told me the moment you heard.
She's my patient, William.
I don't disclose what I'm told in confidence, and I do not work for you.
- Be that as it may, we have a - What about the man you arrested? He was in the stables, but I have no evidence he murdered Pincher.
What evidence do you have against Miss Dawes? Well I now have a confession! From someone not in her right mind! She seems rational enough to me.
Oh, well, now you're a psychiatrist? Julia, please.
She confessed to murder while protecting someone she's calling Tristan, clearly someone she imagined! I haven't charged her yet, but she is a suspect.
You should have told me.
- Are you sure she's your suspect, Murdoch? - Yes.
Well, that's a shame, considering that Spanish fellow, Rodriguez, has just confessed to the murder of one Tobias Pincher.
Well, aren't I a lucky sod, working with a detective who's so good that he's got two different people confessing to the same murder? So, which one did it? Miss Dawes is convinced she did it.
What do you think? She described the murder weapon, a pitchfork.
How did she come by that knowledge? - Then we charge her.
- You can't do that.
She may have an illness that causes her to imagine things that aren't there.
- She's mixed up, confused.
- So is Margaret's mother, but that doesn't mean she's fit for the madhouse.
Although You can't prosecute a sick woman.
All she is suffering from is old age.
That's not enough to call her crazy.
Detective Murdoch, may I speak with Miss Dawes in your office? Certainly.
Miss Dawes, who is this Tristan you told Detective Murdoch about? Can you keep a secret? I am a psychiatrist.
He's my lover.
I had to protect him, don't you see? Yes.
Oh, I knew you would understand.
You have a love as well, don't you? A secret one.
I do.
And you would do anything to save him, to be with him? Where is he now, Miss Dawes? Where is Tristan? Safe, I hope.
Miss Dawes? Please, I I just want to go home.
Where's Isabel? I need her to take me home.
I followed Mr.
Pincher into the stable.
He handed me his wallet, telling me to take the money.
The insult enraged me.
I threw it to the ground.
That's when Pincher came at me.
He attacked you? I reached for something to defend myself.
Then I stabbed him.
With what? A pitchfork.
I stabbed him with a pitchfork.
Mr.
Rodriguez, why are you telling me this now? My conscience demanded it.
Was there anyone else in the stables at the time? No.
Only me.
May I take Miss Dawes home now? Inspector? - Not bloody likely.
- What if I keep her in my care? - And she'll stay in the asylum? - You have my word.
Fair enough.
It's the best I can do.
Carry on.
Tristan! Thank God you're safe.
Do you know this woman? - No, I don't.
- Tristan.
Take me to the cells.
Miss Dawes, it's time to go now.
Oh, don't fret, Isabel.
I will be taken care of by the nice doctor.
You can visit me.
Bring the sherry.
Did you find what you were looking for, - Dr.
Ogden? - I'm afraid not.
It's curious, most dementia patients slide inexorably into oblivion, but few have delusions of such consistency and detail.
There is a doctor in Boston who believes Parkinson's disease - could be a cause of dementia.
- Yes, I thought of that, but Miss Dawes exhibits none of the physical characteristics of Parkinson's.
Her account of the murder is quite lucid, - filled with detail.
- In what way? She recalls hearing church bells sound at midnight, and she is convinced that a man named Tristan was in the stable.
And there's no proof of either.
I'm convinced she's suffering from a dementia that creates elaborate delusions, even hallucinations.
And there's no proof of a church bell? The closest church to the hotel is St.
Francis, and that clock hasn't worked in years.
Are you sure? And Dr.
Garland has taken a mistress? It appears so.
But it doesn't help your cause, does it? - Not in the slightest.
- You'd think in this modern age Dr.
Garland's actions would mean something.
I'm afraid not, Emily.
I think you and Detective Murdoch should just live in sin.
Ah, there you are.
I must say, it is a pleasure to see two such lovely ladies taking an interest in our humble church.
Well, the clock hasn't worked in years.
- We try to raise funds - So it couldn't have - sounded two nights ago? - No.
The last time a bell sounded in this church was decades ago.
Now, this was painted in 1830.
That's the original church.
It was destroyed by fire.
The bell in that one rang true and strong.
Indeed.
A very fine painting.
- Tristan Clavelle? - A parishioner who dabbled as a painter.
When did this church burn down? Eighteen thirty-two.
A sad day that was.
- Goodbye.
- Good day.
What is it? Miss Dawes said she killed Mr.
Pincher because he was attacking a man named Tristan, a man she said was her lover.
But this Tristan would have died before she was even born.
I know.
But I think somewhere in her brain there's a connection between the past and the present.
We need to know more about him.
I have a frndnd who owns an art gallery.
He is familiar with the works of most Toronto painters.
Shall we? Really? Dr.
Garland.
- A moment of your time? - Certainly not.
I need to speak with you.
I'll get straight to the point.
I want you to let Julia go.
You should have married her when you had the chance.
- Do the right thing.
Release her.
- For you? - That will never happen.
- Darcy, - is everything all right? - Everything's fine.
I'll be along presently.
- Be reasonable, man.
Considering your actions - Julia agreed to be my wife till death do us part.
I won't taint my standing in the community because she's had a change of heart.
Now, if she wants to dally with you, I won't stop her.
Divorce her, if only to preserve her name.
If she's going to act like a whore, she might as well be labelled as such.
- Ugh! - Oh, my goodness! - Darcy! - Is he all right? - He just came up and hit him! - Get out of the way.
Darcy, are you all right? Tristan Clavelle was known for his paintings of early Toronto landmarks.
Interesting do you know anything more about him.
He dabbled in portraiture with little critical success.
He died in 1845.
That's him.
A self-portrait.
Hm.
He's quite good-looking.
He looks like Carl Rodriguez.
As you see, Mr.
Rodriguez, you bear an uncanny resemblance to this Toronto painter.
Do you have any ancestors who used to lived here? None at all.
We are Catalan for several generations.
When Miss Dawes saw you, she called you Tristan, did she not? I do not know who she is.
She is clearly mistaken.
Could she be imagining herself in a story with Tristan, and she thinks you're him? She knows you've been taken into custody for the murder of Tobias Pincher.
A crime to which I have already confessed.
Is it possible she's taking the blame for the murder in order to spare you? I have told you before.
I do not know her, Detective.
Could they have killed Pincher together? Given her condition, it's conceivable that he could have convinced her that she did it.
But still, the resemblance.
- George.
- Sir? City records, if you would.
I need you to find out everything you can about a painter named Tristan Clavelle.
Right away, sir.
Murdoch! I just took a complaint from Dr.
Darcy Gar land.
Sir.
I told him not to bother, of course.
William? You hit him? I lost my composure.
I told you to stay out of this.
Why? Because he's doing you wrong! Because he should let you go! - I told you I would handle it! - But you didn't! And you thought that he would listen to the high and mighty William Murdoch! Julia.
You were to stay out of this! He'll never allow a divorce now! We wouldn't have to worry about a divorce if you hadn't married him in the first place! You could have stopped me.
I couldn't.
You know that.
I had no choice! You had a choice.
You could have chosen me and you didn't! Sir! It's not about Tristan Clavelle, but Then what is it, George? Sir, it's from the Colonial Advocate September 1830.
It's a report on a trial for a murder in a stable with a pitchfork.
And the murderess Sir, you've got to see this.
She pleaded guilty to killing her fiancé.
And what do you want? An explanation.
Do you know who she is, Mr.
Rodriguez? You have confessed to a murder.
Miss Dawes has confessed to the same crime.
An answer please, sir, or I will have choice but to put her - at the end of a noose.
- No! She is my soulmate.
Open it.
Jane Gleat and Tristan Clavelle.
How did you come by this locket? Quite by chance or so I thought.
I sought out the Toronto silversmith from his mark.
He was dead, but his son told me the story of the star-crossed lovers.
You saw the resemblance and felt some sort of kinship? More than that.
I knew I had been Tristan Clavelle years ago.
What was the lovers' story? Jane was promised to be married, but was in love with Tristan.
On the night they were to elope, Jane's fiancé confronted Tristan.
Jane killed to save her lover's life.
As I listened, every word rang true.
As if I had lived it.
And what does this have to do with the murder of Mr.
Pincher? I was about to leave Toronto when quite by chance I saw a woman on King St.
Who looked like Jane Gleat.
It was Felicity Dawes.
A striking resemblance.
No, more.
Much more than resemblance.
The moment our eyes met, I I knew it was her.
She was my Jane.
You told her the story.
Oh, yes.
That we were fated to be together.
She went to the gallows saving my life all those years ago.
And this is my turn to repay her.
So, Carl Rodriguez and Felicity Dawes think that they are Tristan Clavelle and Jane Gleat? - According to Mr.
Rodriguez, yes.
- Lovers through the ages.
It's a romantic notion, sirs.
- It's a load of bollocks.
- Sir, it's reincarnation, pure and simple.
I mean, perhaps Miss Dawes is not imagining she is Jane Gleat; perhaps she IS the reincarnation of Jane Gleat.
I know what reincarnation is.
It's a load of Eastern bollocks.
Sir, it would explain her recollection of the crime, it would explain the physical similarity between the two women.
George, we don't need the fantastical right now.
Sirs, I think you're both being closed-minded.
Who is to say that this isn't true? - We're living in the 20th bloody century, Crabtree.
- We are now, sir, but who's to say that we didn't live in past centuries? Who's to say that you didn't used to be some great king or lord or some such? And what the hell were you? A bloody fruit fly? And Detective Murdoch hit him? Apparently right in the middle of King St.
- It was completely inappropriate.
- I never would have thought Detective Murdoch had it in him.
You must admit, Dr.
Ogden, it is highly romantic.
And stupid.
I'm trying to convince Darcy to grant me a divorce.
This doesn't help.
Emily, listen to this.
"The patient exhibits movement from lucidity to confusion without the pattern often associated with senile dementia.
" That sounds much like Felicity Dawes.
Who is the researcher? Dr.
Alois Alzheimer.
Some of the symptoms he's studying match, but it doesn't explain the delusions.
Perhaps she has another form of dementia.
I believe she does.
Unfortunately as yet unnamed.
I can't use any of this in her defence.
Dr.
Ogden.
Dr.
Grace.
I should go.
Thank you for you help, Dr.
Grace.
- Julia - Please, William.
Not now.
I need to speak to your patient.
If you must, but this time I insist on being present.
Tristan was so talented.
He painted a portrait of me once.
But your fiancé found out about him.
He was going to kill Tristan.
I had no choice.
You see that, don't you? I do.
The handsome detective.
He is your secret love.
He is the one.
Am I leaving now? I'm ready for the journey, long and arduous though it may be.
I'm not arresting you, Miss Dawes.
Take me, I beg you.
I am the murderer.
What happened the night of Mr.
Pincher's murder? Felicity and I intended to run away together.
And yet you knew she wasn't well.
When you find your soulmate, Doctor, there is no obstacle too great.
You planned to meet at the stables? Like Jane and Tristan.
To finish the journey they had begun.
When I arrived, Mr.
Pincher was there.
He thought I was a threat to him getting his hands on her money.
He came for me.
I picked up the pitchfork.
I believe Mr.
Pincher was already dead when you arrived, Mr.
Rodriguez, and you planted the evidence to point to yourself.
You are protecting Miss Dawes.
Why? In a past life, she protected me.
I am paying back that debt.
I am content to hang, as she died for me.
Do you really believe all of this? What faith do you follow? Roman Catholic.
Ah.
So you believe a man, a man no less than the son of God, a man of virgin birth, died, and then three days later rose from the dead to walk among us.
Yet I do not mock you.
I have two people willing to take the blame for a crime, and no way of knowing which one is telling the truth.
Dr.
Ogden? Felicity Dawes did confess, but to a murder she imagines she committed 70 years ago.
Forget all the mumbo jumbo nonsense.
Who stands to make a lot of money if Miss Dawes sees the noose? As her future husband, that would be Mr.
Pincher.
And someone took him out of the picture.
Now, who stood to get the most out of Miss Dawes before Pincher appeared on the scene? Follow the money.
Finally, Murdoch.
You're learning something from me.
It wasn't Miss Dawes' fault, Detective.
That terrible man, Rodriguez, he poisoned her mind against Mr.
Pincher.
He was little more than a confidence man, telling her these silly tales how they were lovers from a past life.
You see, my love? I am Tristan, and you are my Jane.
And we are destined to be together through all time.
You've been with Miss Dawes for seven years, now? Yes.
Those must have been hard years.
After all, you were more than a nurse to her; you were a companion, a confidante.
It must have been a terrible strain when Miss Dawes became more and more forgetful.
We're put on this world for duty, sir.
I didn't shirk mine.
But surely you expected some sort of reward for your troubles? Isn't it true that if Miss Dawes were to have passed, you would have been her beneficiary? - She is a generous woman - Or at least you would have been her beneficiary until Tobias Pincher came on the scene, and then that all changed.
Detective Murdoch, I've had enough.
I am going to see if my mistress needs me.
Miss Webster, may I see your gloves? There are wood fragments in the weave of this glove, Miss Webster.
I wonder how they got there.
Sir, the wood fragments are a match.
Ah, thank you, George, but she's confessed.
Three confessions to a single murder? Sir, this must be something of a record.
Yes, well, this one will stick.
Isabel Webster knew that Mr.
Rodriguez and Miss Dawes believed they were reliving a past life.
She told Mr.
Pincher of their plans to elope that night, knowing full well that he would confront them.
And then she killed Mr.
Pincher in the stable the same way Jane Gleat killed her fiancé.
Isabel then told her mistress about the murder, left the rest to her imagination.
It was only a matter of time before Miss Dawes confessed herself.
What with Miss Dawes and Mr.
Pincher gone, Isabel Webster could've finally said goodbye to cleaning chamber pots.
Well put, George.
I intend to care for Felicity now.
You know there is no cure.
- It is a fate I embrace.
- Tristan! My love.
- She calls you Tristan.
- Yes.
She often talks of the past.
She remembers every detail you told her the stable and the pitchfork, the church bell chiming at midnight.
Church bell? I did not tell her about a church bell.
I have missed you so much.
This is for you.
William, I'd like to apologize.
- That isn't necessary.
I - This was my choice, not yours.
I can't blame you for my decisions.
Well, I don't know what we can do now, Julia.
Darcy is my burden.
I will deal with it.