All language subtitles for Alias.Grace.S01E06.Part.6.1080p.NF.WEBRip.DD5.1.x264-NTb

-Dr. Jordan. A pleasure.
-It is kind of you to spare me the time.

You saved the life of Grace Marks
against considerable odds.

I'm curious to find out
exactly how you managed it.

We lawyers always welcome
a chance to show off.

But before we get down to it... Sherry?

No, thank you.

You acted for both Grace Marks
and James McDermott, I believe.

Yes. That was wrong, in retrospect,
as their interests were in conflict.

But the practice of jurisprudence
was so much laxer then.

Why did McDermott take so long
to accuse Grace, I wonder?

Well, until the very last,

he was hoping for a commutation,
since she had been given one,

and he could not accuse her without
knotting the noose around his own neck,

'cause he'd have to admit to the axe play
and so forth.

Whereas Grace could accuse him
with relative impunity.

Just so.
Nor did she flinch when the moment came.

Sauve qui peut.

That woman has nerves like flint.
She'd have made a good lawyer, if a man.

So you've met
Our Lady of the Silences?

Is that what you call her?

Yes. I've been spending a good deal
of time with her, trying to determine...

Whether she's innocent?

Whether she is insane.
Or was, at the time of the murders.

Which I suppose is innocence of a kind.

Well, I see our fascinating Grace
has been leading you on a merry chase.

Not so merry.

I must admit I've been baffled.

What she says has the ring of truth.

Her manner is sincere, yet I can't shake
the suspicion that in some way...

I cannot put my finger on,
she is lying to me.

Lying.

A severe term, surely.

Has she been lying to you, you ask?

did Scheherazade lie?

Not in her own eyes.

Indeed, the stories that she told
ought never to be subjected

to the harsh categories
of Truth or Falsehood.

See, perhaps Grace Marks needed to be
telling you just what she told you

in order to achieve the desired end.

Which is?

To keep the Sultan amused.

To forestall your departure,

make sure you'd stay with her
for as long as possible.

What on earth would be the point in that?
Amusing me won't get her out of prison.

Isn't it obvious? The poor creature
has fallen in love with you.

A single man, more or less young,
not ill-favored,

appears to someone so long sequestered,
deprived of masculine company.

You are doubtless the object
of her waking daydreams.

Surely not.

I say surely so!

I had the very experience myself,
or the twin of it.

I had to pass many hours with her
in her jail cell in Toronto

as she spun out her yarn for me
to as great a length as it would go.

She was besotted with me.

One hand placed on hers, she would have
thrown herself into my arms.

Indeed?

And I will admit I was tempted.

I mean, she was very young
and tender then,

though prison life has no doubt
hardened her.

There has never been
any suggestion of that... in my case.

Well, I was very lucky.

As was Grace, in fact,

that the Kinnear murder
was tried before the other.

I mean, they had death sentences
pronounced on both of them for his murder

and it was deemed unnecessary to go
through the details of the second case.

So Grace was never even tried
for the murder of Nancy Montgomery.

If she had been?

I wouldn't have got her off.

Public opinion would have been
too strong for me.

She would have hanged.

But in your opinion, she was innocent.

On the contrary. No.

In my opinion, she was guilty as sin.

What were you doing in Toronto,
Dr. Jordan?

Were you talking to people,
trying to find out if I was guilty?

You wouldn't find it out that way.

You don't understand yet
that guilt comes to you

not from the things you have done,

but from the things
others have done to you.

You were getting thinner.

I believed you were prey
to some nagging sorrow.

Dr. Jordan.

Grace. What have they done...?

What have they done to your hair?

I had too many marks
against me for talking.

I have been thinking while you were away.
I've been thinking what I will tell you.

I have been thinking too, Grace.

I wonder if it's time we tried other
methods to access your memories.

Dr. DuPont has said he is willing
to try hypnosis.

All you have to do is sit in a chair and
go to sleep when Dr. DuPont tells you to.

How will Jer--

How will Dr. DuPont put me to sleep?

He will explain all that tomorrow.

I hope in this way
we'll bring back your memory.

I am not sure I want it back.

But if it will help,
I will do as you wish.

Look. Lydia's left her keepsake album.
I wonder if she wanted you to find it.

What would you put
in a keepsake album, Grace?

A piece of cotton from
my penitentiary nightdress.

A square of bloodstained petticoat.

A strip of kerchief,
white with blue flowers.

Love-in-a-mist.

I will see you tomorrow, Grace.

I will watch and listen.

Yes, Doctor. I know you will.

♪ I once was lost ♪

♪ But now I'm found ♪

♪ Was blind but now I see ♪

I wonder if I was named after the hymn.

I hope I was named after it.

I would like to be found.

I would like to see.

Or be seen.

I wonder if, in the eye of God,
it amounts to the same thing.

As it says in the Bible,

"For now we see through a glass,
darkly...

but then face to face."

If it is face to face,
there must be two looking.

Alright.

It is time.

Well, I see that you are all assembled,
and may I say I am deeply gratified

by both your interest and your trust.

Grace, you may sit here.

Are you quite comfortable?

Grace, there is nothing to be afraid of.
No one here wishes you any harm.

I have explained to Grace that she need
only listen to my voice

and simply fall asleep.

Is that understood, Grace?

Very good.

Now, this is a completely
scientific procedure.

So I implore you to please banish
any and all thoughts of mesmerism

or other such fraudulent acts.

Please remain silent until
after Grace has fallen fully asleep,

at which point you may
converse in low voices.

Is that understood? Excellent.
Let us begin.

Grace, you are getting heavy.

Very, very heavy.

Your limbs are of such a weight,
they are pulling you to the ground.

You cannot move.

Your eyelids are being weighed down.

You are feeling drowsy.
Very, very drowsy.

And now your limbs are floating, drifting.

As you slowly sink down, down, down,
as if through water.

Grace, can you still hear me?

Yes.

Good.

Are you sleeping, Grace?

Yes.

Very good.

When you awake,
you will remember nothing of this.

Now, Grace, I want you to go deeper.

And deeper.

And deeper.

Now, Grace, please lift up your right arm.

Your arm is an iron bar,
which no one can bend.

Would anyone care to try?

No one?

So be it.

I am using all of my force.

Very good, Grace. You may lower your arm.

Her eyes are open.

Which is normal and of no import.

In this condition the subject may be able
to discern many things,

even with their eyes fully closed.

Shall we proceed?

She looks so odd.

It's to help
with the concentration.

The inner sight, you see, is keener
when hidden from outward view.

Well, Dr. Jordan, we may now travel
safely into the past.

What is it exactly
that you would wish for me to ask her?

Ask her about the Kinnear residence.

Which part of it? One must be specific.

The verandah.

The verandah.

Grace, you are now on the verandah
of the Kinnear home.

What is it that you see?

I see flowers.

The sunset.

I am so happy. I want to stay here.

Ask her to get up
and walk into the house.

Tell her to go towards the trapdoor
in the hall,

the one leading to the cellar.

Grace,
go into the Kinnear home.

It's like there's a spirit
in the room.

-I'm frightened. Open the drapes!
-Not yet.

You must maintain your composure.
I beg of you. This is not a seance.

Shall we press on?

Ask her whether she had relations
with James McDermott.

Grace. Did you ever have relations
with James McDermott?

Relations?

What do you mean?

Really, Doctor, you're such a hypocrite!

You want to know if I kissed him,

if I slept with him,
if I was his paramour, is that it?

Yes.

Whether I did what you'd like to do with
that slut who's got hold of your hand?

You'd like to know that, so I'll tell you.

Yes.

I would meet him outside, in the yard.

I'd press up against him

and let him kiss me
and touch me all over, Doctor,

the same places you'd like to touch me,
because I can always tell.

I know what you're thinking when you sit
in that stuffy sewing room with me.

That was all, Doctor.

That was all I'd let him do.

I had him on a string,
and Mr. Kinnear as well.

I had the two of them dancing to my tune!

Ask her why.

I would breathe like this.

I would twist and twine.

After that, he'd say he'd do anything.

But why?

Oh, Doctor, you're always asking why.

Poking your nose in,
and not only your nose.

You're such a curious man, Doctor.
Curiosity killed the cat, you know.

Watch out for that little mouse beside you
and her little furry mouse hole, too.

This is an outrage.
Lydia, come with me!

Modesty must take second place
to the interests of science.

-Please remain seated.
-But this is a spirit.

This is a spirit that has taken hold
of Grace, this is not science.

I must insist on quiet!

Ask her if she was in the cellar
of Mr. Kinnear's house

on Friday the 28th of July, 1843.

Grace, the cellar.

Picture the cellar.
Go back in time, descend in space.

Yes.

Along the hallway...

lift the trapdoor...

down the cellar stairs.

Barrels, whisky, vegetables
in boxes full of sand.

There on the floor.

Yes, I was in the cellar.

Ask her if Nancy was there.

Oh, yes, I saw her.

As I can see you, Doctor.

And I can hear you too.

Was she alive?

Was she still alive?

She was partly alive.

Or partly dead.

She needed to be put out of her misery.

Did you help strangle her?

It was my kerchief that strangled her.
Such a pretty pattern it had on it!

It was a shame to lose that kerchief.
I'd had it such a long time.

It was my mother's.

I should have taken it off Nancy's neck.

But James wouldn't let me have it,
nor her gold earrings neither.

There was blood on it,
but that would have washed out.

You killed her.

I always thought so.

Give me the handkerchief!

The kerchief killed her.

Hands held it.

She had to die.
The wages of sin is death.

Grace, I thought better of you.

All these years you've deceived us.

You've deceived yourselves.

I am not Grace.

Stop. Stop.

Grace knew nothing about it.

♪ Let the water and the blood ♪

♪ From the riven side which flowed ♪

I killed her.

♪ Rock of ages, cleft for me ♪

♪ Let me hide myself in thee ♪

You are not Grace.
If you are not Grace, then who are you?

-You must answer. I command it!
-You can't command. You must guess.

Spirits speak through others, in a trance,
but sometimes they lie, you know.

I am not lying.

I am beyond lying.

It may be James McDermott,
come to accuse Grace.

-Not James, you old fraud.
-Please, Mrs. Quenell, this is no spirit.

I believe what we are witnessing right now
is a purely natural phenomenon.

Nancy then. The spirits are often rude,
they call us names.

- Some cannot tolerate to be dead.
- Not Nancy, you stupid fool!

Nancy can't say a word,
not with her neck like that.

Such a pretty neck, once!

But Nancy isn't angry anymore.
She understands.

Nancy is my friend.

She wants to share things.

Come, Doctor, you like riddles.

You know the answer.

I told you it was my kerchief,
the one I gave to Grace,

the one she kept with her after I...

♪ Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eye
ever dawning ♪

♪ That made me love Mary ♪

Mary...

Not Mary Whitney.

I told James to do it.
I was there all along!

-There?
-Here.

Where I am now, with Grace.

I was so cold, lying on that floor.

And I was alone.

I needed to keep warm.

But Grace doesn't know, she's never known!

They almost hanged her,
that would have been wrong.

I only borrowed her clothing for a time.

-Her clothing?
-Her earthly shell.

Her fleshly garment.

She forgot to open the window,
so I couldn't get out.

But I wouldn't want to hurt her.

You mustn't tell her.

-Why?
-You know why, Doctor.

Do you want to see her back in the asylum?

I liked it there at first.
I could talk out loud.

I could share things.

But they didn't believe me.

They wouldn't listen.

I was not heard.

Grace. Stop playing tricks!

- I am not Grace.
- Is that really you?

Don't be afraid. Speak the truth.

You see?

You're all the same.

You won't listen,
you don't believe me, you won't hear.

She's gone. You can always tell
when they go back to their own realm.

You can feel it in the air.
It's the electricity.

Grace.

Grace Marks, can you still hear me?

Yes.

Good.

I'm going to bring you up now.

Grace, you are now lighter than air.

Nothing is weighing you down
as you float up, up.

Up, up, out of the depths.

You see the light above you as you break
the surface of the present.

When I snap my fingers,
you will be fully awake.

I must have been asleep.

Do you remember anything?
Anything of what has just happened here?

No.

I was asleep.

But I must have been dreaming.

I dreamt of my mother.

Floating in the sea.

She was at peace.

You may feel a little dizzy.
Frequently the case.

Mrs. Quenell, see that Grace is brought to
a bedchamber where she may lie down.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am at a loss.

I believe that these
are two distinct personalities,

which both coexist within the same body

and yet have different sets
of memories altogether.

They are, for all practical purposes,
two entirely separate individuals.

If you'll accept, that is,
that we are what we remember.

Perhaps.

But we are also, preponderantly,
what we forget.

The other voice,
whatever it was, was...

remarkable for its violence.

Dr. Jordan, what will you say about this
in your report?

I shall have to consider
my position very carefully.

I have always believed Grace to be
innocent, or hoped, rather.

But if what we have witnessed
is a natural phenomenon,

then who are we to question it?

Was she really in a trance or play-acting
and laughing up her sleeve?

I know what I saw and heard, but she may
have been showing us an illusion.

-I take great exception to this.
-No. If I describe

what I witnessed in my report
and it found its way into any petition

submitted on her behalf, it would
immediately scotch any chance of success.

-Dr. Jordan, let us think more on this.
-I cannot write the report you desire

without perjuring myself.

The safest thing to do would be
to write nothing at all.

But those hours you spent with Grace
must add up to much more than--

The fact is I can't state anything
with certainty and still tell the truth,

because the truth eludes me.

Or Grace eludes me.

Dr. Jordan, please reconsider.

I always wanted to do that
with someone else.

Not you.

Dear Reverend Verringer.

The experience of witnessing what we saw
together in the governor's parlor

has raised many questions for me
about hypnotism and mesmerism.

I wonder if they provide an opportunity
for women to say what they think

and to express their true thoughts
and feelings more boldly

and in more vulgar terms than
they could otherwise feel permission to.

I wonder about Grace's violent childhood
and her experience as a young woman,

abused constantly, harassed on every side.

I wonder how much repressed rage she must
have carried with her as a result.

The question is, was this rage directed
toward Nancy Montgomery

and Thomas Kinnear,
resulting in their murder?

Or at me,

therefore making her confession during
her hypnotism a fraud designed to hurt me?

One thing is certain.

I cannot write a report
for your committee.

I must forget Grace Marks.

He will not be
returning to Kingston. He is gone.

When I heard you
went off so quick,

and without sending any word to me,

I was very distressed, Dr. Jordan.

I could not understand it,
that you would go without a goodbye,

after all the talking
we had done together.

They also said you were to write a letter
to the government on my behalf,

to set me free,

and I became afraid that now
you would not do so.

I remembered when Jeremiah claimed to see
into the future after looking at my palm

and said that all would come out
well in the end.

And I wondered if he was
only trying to comfort me.

I was afraid of falling into hopeless
despair over my wasted life,

and I was still not sure how it happened.

Dear Reverend Verringer.

I must admit that I have come very close
to nervous exhaustion

during the last two years
since I was in Kingston.

Thank you, Mother.

Not to know,
to snatch at hints and portents,

at tantalizing whispers.

It is as bad as being haunted.

Sometimes at night her face
floats before me in the dark,

like some lovely and enigmatic mirage.

I have intimations
of some vast discovery still,

though as yet I wander in darkness,
led only by marsh-lights.

Murderess.

I'm almost thankful that the prospect
for a peaceful resolution

between North and South is not hopeful,

as it will be a relief to have a duty
of some kind set before me,

no matter how deplorable
the occasion for it.

Your brain-sore and weary
but affectionate friend, Simon.

Grace, I have the most astonishing news.
Your pardon has come through.

From Sir John Macdonald
and the Minister of Justice in Ottawa.

Isn't it wonderful?

Is it not a cruel joke?

Oh, no. It is really true.

You are pardoned!

It was strange to realize

that I would not be
a celebrated murderess anymore,

but seen perhaps as an innocent woman
wrongly accused and imprisoned unjustly

and an object of pity
rather than of horror and fear.

It took me some days
to get used to the idea.

It calls for a different
arrangement of the face.

I wished to turn and look back,
but I remembered Lot's wife.

I did indeed have a sort of regret.

For the penitentiary was the only home
I'd known for almost 30 years.

To go from a familiar thing
into the unknown

is always a matter for apprehension,

and I suppose that is why
so many people are afraid to die.

May I ask about the home
I am to be a servant in?

What has the household been told about me?

There is a surprise awaiting you, Grace.

I cannot tell you what it is,
but it is a good surprise.

I will tell you that it concerns a man,
a gentleman.

What gentleman?

I cannot tell you.

But he is an old friend of yours.

The only gentleman I could think of,
sir, was you yourself.

Here's our man.

Grace, don't you know me?
I would have known you anywhere.

Jamie Walsh.

We'll give you two
a moment to yourselves.

The last time I saw you at...

It was your testimony that changed
the minds of the judge and jury

so much against me.

I've been overcome with guilt for the part
I played in your conviction.

I was only a young lad at the time
and no match for the lawyers.

They led me into saying things.

It's alright, Jamie.

You needn't feel guilty anymore.

It's the sort of thing
that could happen to anyone.

I beg you to forgive me.

You're forgiven.

Grace, this is my farm now. It's mine.

Although I'm not a millionaire,
I can offer you a good home.

In this country you are not judged by what
you come from, but by what you have.

I do not want you
to marry me out of guilt.

I have always had very warm feelings
for you, Grace.

Alright then.

It has been many years
since I was 16 years of age

and first went up
the long driveway to Mr. Kinnear's.

Now I am on my own verandah,

and the scene before me is so peaceful,
you would think it was a picture.

We have white and red Leghorns

and a Jersey cow for the cream and cheese.

There is nothing better.

We have two horses, Charley and Nell,
who are a great pleasure to me,

and good company
when Mr. Walsh is not here.

Our cat is named Tabby.

She is the color you might expect
and a good mouser.

-And a dog named Rex.
-And a dog named Rex.

Mr. Walsh wanted to employ a girl as well,

but I said I would prefer to do the work
of the house myself.

I wouldn't want to have
a servant living in,

as they pry too much
and listen at doors.

I know my secrets are safe with Jeremiah,
as his are safe with me.

On the whole, Mr. Walsh and I agree,
and things go on very well with us.

But there is something
that has troubled me, sir.

It is one of the reasons I have
written you this long letter.

It is this.

To think of the sufferings
I have caused you.

You did not cause me
any sufferings, Jamie.

It was the others that caused them.

Also having plain bad luck
and bad judgement.

Tell me again.
Tell me again about the lunatic asylum.

Tell me again how you were ill-treated.

Often the doctor would visit.

He would put his hand up my leg.
He said it was to check my progress.

He likes to picture the sufferings
I have endured.

He listens to all of it like a child
listening to a fairy tale.

I must confess that it reminds me
of you, Dr. Jordan.

You were as eager as Mr. Walsh to hear
about my sufferings in life.

Your cheeks would flush,
and if you'd had ears like a dog,

they would have been pricked forward,

with your eyes shining
and your tongue hanging out,

as if you'd found a grouse in a bush.

And as with Mr. Walsh, I may have changed
some of the details of my stories

to suit what I thought you wanted to hear.

It did make me feel
I was of some use in this world.

Could you ever forgive me?

He insists on being forgiven, and who am I
to refuse him such a simple thing?

I had a rage in my heart for many years
against Mary Whitney.

And especially against Nancy Montgomery.

Against the two of them both for letting
themselves be done to death

in the way that they did.

So I don't feel quite right about it,
forgiving him like that,

because I am aware that in doing so
I am telling a lie.

Though I suppose it isn't
the first lie I've told.

As Mary Whitney used to say,

a little white lie is a small price to pay
for peace and quiet.

How is he doing?

Have you seen any progress
since last time?

He still has no memory of recent events.
I see no improvement in his speech.

It has been years now since your son
was wounded, Mrs. Jordan.

I believe this will be
his permanent state.

I wish I had better news to share.

I don't believe my visits
are of any use at this point.

Thank you, Doctor.

Simon.

Simon, how are you feeling today?

I think of Mary Whitney
frequently these days,

and of the time we threw
the apple peelings over our shoulders,

and it has all come true after a fashion.

Just as she said, I married a man
whose name begins with a "J,"

and as Jeremiah said way back then,

I first had to cross over water
three times,

and all will be fine in the end.

And I really am here.

I open and shut my eyes and pinch myself,
but it remains true.

Although I have made many quilts
in my day,

I am finally making one for myself.

The pattern of this quilt
is called the Tree of Paradise

and I am changing it a little
to suit my own ideas.

On my Tree of Paradise,
I intend to put a border of snakes.

Without a snake or two, the main part
of the story would be missing.

The Tree itself is of triangles,
in two colors,

dark for the leaves
and a lighter color for the fruits.

But three of the triangles
in my Tree will be different.

One will be red, from the petticoat
I still have that was Mary Whitney's.

One will be faded yellowish,
from my prison nightdress.

And the third will be a pale pink cotton,
cut from the dress of Nancy's

that she had on the first day
I was at Mr. Kinnear's

and that I wore when I was running away.

I will embroider around each one of them,
to blend them in as part of the pattern.

And so we will all be together.

"And so we will all be together."

Grace.

♪ Come all you fair ♪

♪ And tender girls ♪

♪ That flourish in your prime ♪

♪ Prime ♪

♪ Beware, beware ♪

♪ If you're good and fair ♪

♪ Let no man steal your time ♪

♪ Time ♪

♪ Let no man steal ♪

♪ Your time ♪