书虫3级《查尔斯·布拉沃的死亡之谜》2. 弗洛伦丝·布拉沃的讲述

2. Florence Bravo's story

My name is Mrs Florence Bravo. I am 31 years old. I live at The Priory, in Balham. At the time of his death, my husband, Charles Bravo, lived there too. My friend and companion, Jane Cox, was also living in the house ...

My husband Charles and I were very happy together. Of course, we argued sometimes, but that's normal, isn't it? All husbands and wives argue sometimes. But Charles was a good man – a lawyer – and I loved him very much. He loved me too – everyone will tell you that. In fact, that was the last thing he said, before he died. 'You've been the best of wives,' he said. Then I kissed him, and he died.

Charles Bravo was my second husband. I married him at the end of last year, December 1875. My first husband, Alexander Ricardo, died in 1871. I was only nineteen when I married Alexander. He was a soldier in the British army. He looked very tall and handsome in his red coat.

Florence Ricardo – later, Florence Bravo

Both our families were very rich, and my parents liked him. All the most important people in London came to our wedding – it was wonderful! We danced late into the night. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I fell in love with him, and I thought he loved me too.

But I was wrong. Alexander was a terrible husband. He didn't love me; he spent most of his time visiting girls and drinking. He drank two or three bottles of wine every night. Sometimes, when he came home, he couldn't stand up. And when I argued with him, he hit me.

That's right – my tall beautiful soldier husband hit me! One day he hit me hard, in the face, three times. Then he laughed.

I left him then and ran home, to my parents. 'I can't live with this man,' I told them. 'He's stupid and dangerous. I don't want to be married any more!'

But Alexander is your husband,' my father said. 'A wife can't leave her husband. It's against the law. You must go back to him and do what he says.'

No!' I screamed. 'I can't, I won't! You don't understand! I don't want to see him again, ever! I wish he was dead!'

I cried so much that my parents thought I was ill. So my mother took me to a doctor, Dr James Gully.

I'll never forget that day. We arrived at Dr Gully's hospital in Malvern after a long journey. I was very tired, frightened, and unhappy. Dr Gully was a man, of course. But he didn't shout at me, like my father and my husband. He just looked at me, and listened. He was quiet and friendly and kind. In fact, I thought he was the kindest man I had ever met.

He was the only man who really liked me and understood me. But after a while, I saw that it was more than that. Dr Gully didn't just like me and understand me. He fell in love with me, too.

He can tell you about that.