Daniel Deronda

Daniel steps outside for a walk and some conversation. Mr. Vandernoodt, one of Grandcourt’s acquaintances, soon joins him and, after a few casual remarks, makes a pointed observation about Grandcourt. He calls Grandcourt a lifeless figure and speculates that he married out of stubbornness rather than love. He then shifts to a more scandalous topic: Grandcourt’s connection to another woman.

Vandernoodt reveals to Daniel that Grandcourt has long maintained another household at Gadsmere for Lydia. According to his sources, Lydia left her husband for Grandcourt and traveled with him for years before the man’s death. Daniel listens with growing unease, keeping his silence as Vandernoodt presses on. When Daniel finally speaks, it is with quiet outrage. He declares that Grandcourt had no right to marry Gwendolen under these circumstances. He wonders whether Gwendolen knows the truth.

Vandernoodt, amused by the situation, likens it to a mythological drama, imagining Gwendolen and Lydia as two powerful women locked in a struggle, with Grandcourt cast as a weak, doomed figure. Daniel does not share his levity. Grandcourt may be cold and detached, but he is far from powerless. The idea that Gwendolen might have known at least part of this history troubles him deeply.

Later that evening, Daniel finds himself among the ladies at tea. The conversation drifts towards Mirah, who Daniel describes as a promising young singer. He speaks highly of her, describing her exceptional voice and refinement despite a difficult past. Gwendolen listens with cool detachment, dismissing his encouragement about music. She remarks that great talent only reminds ordinary people of their own insignificance. Daniel counters, insisting that excellence should inspire rather than discourage.

As the night progresses, Gwendolen moves to the piano, flipping through the music. Daniel approaches her, sensing an opportunity to mend the tension between them. She surprises him by relenting—she will listen to Mirah and even take lessons, though she frames it as a lesson in humility. Their conversation shifts to Mirah’s past, and when Daniel mentions that she once contemplated suicide, Gwendolen reacts with sudden, intense interest.

Daniel sees the depth of Gwendolen’s turmoil more clearly than ever. He speaks gently, telling her that remorse can bring growth. Gwendolen resists, insisting that people admire the innocent while despising those who falter. Their conversation turns into an unspoken battle of perspectives; she clings to her self-condemnation, while he urges her toward redemption. The evening ends in a grand ball, where Gwendolen, adorned in jewels, moves through the festivities with the poise expected of her. Yet as she dances, she feels the weight of her choices pressing down.

Later in the evening, Gwendolen finally has a quiet moment. Grandcourt stands nearby, uninterested, and Daniel approaches to ask if she will dance again. She declines but requests a glass of water. When she accepts it from him, she lets the old turquoise necklace slip into view, drawing Daniel’s attention. Grandcourt notices as well. He does not react immediately, but his eventual comment drips with contempt. He accuses her of playing childish games and exchanging secret signals with Daniel. Gwendolen meets his gaze with defiance, declaring that the necklace is an old piece she values. But the exchange leaves her shaken.

Grandcourt later confronts Gwendolen in private, issuing cold, precise warnings. He demands that she maintain appearances, warning her not to make a spectacle of herself. She realizes with sinking dread that she is utterly trapped. He is not jealous; he is something worse. He does not care about her emotions, only about control. His presence is like a force pressing down on her, making rebellion impossible. She sits in silence, swallowing her humiliation, knowing that her greatest fear has already come true: she has gambled everything and lost.