All language subtitles for Gentleman.Jack.S01E02.WEB.x264-PHOENiX[eztv]

- She's here.
- She's here?

Whoa!

We had a bit of a drama here
on Monday.

The little boy had to have
his leg amputated.

Does she know about Briggs?

He won't be able to collect
the six monthly rents.

Is it wise to collect the rents?

Why shouldn't I collect
my rents?

Because it's a man's job.

-I didn't know
Miss Lister was back.
-Very much so, ma'am.

Have you ever met her, Ann?

Once. Years ago.

-We should pay her a visit.
-I'd like that.

Miss Walker, I've heard
so much about you lately.

What do you know about coal?

Well, I know
you have a lot of it.

The Rawsons, they don't always
play by the rules.

Wouldn't surprise me

if they were
stealing it off you already.

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- Miss Lister to see you,
Miss Walker.

- Miss Lister.
- Miss Walker.

I was just passing.

- Please, come in.

Sit down.

- Do you know, I haven't been
in this room for years.

- It was after my mother died.
You visited us.

- Was it?

- M-my mother died, um,
quite suddenly

after my father.

I don't know if you remember.

Yes, you--you came to tea--

for tea with me
and my sister, Elizabeth.

We walked in the garden.

You--you probably had no idea
at the time,

but you made my whole world
a little bit brighter that day.

I remember it
very distinctly;

very fondly.

- I do remember it.

I remember everything.

- Well, do you remember me
running after you?

- Remind me?

- I was so embarrassed
about it afterwards.

I'm quite glad
you don't remember.

It was on the Lightcliffe Road,
and I spotted you,

and I raced after you
to invite you to tea.

Afterwards, I thought...

Oh, how silly and foolish

I must have seemed to you.

- Now you've said it,
I only remember thinking

how animated you looked.

Shall I sit here?

- You must miss your sister.

- Yes, I do.

She writes as often as she can,

but she has
three little ones now.

- Three?
- So...

of course,
she's very busy.

- Motherhood:

What a delight.
- Mm.

I'm very fond
of children, but...

I'm not sure
that I'd want to...

- What?

- Give birth.

- No.

No, it's not something
I've ever felt compelled to do.

I dissected a baby once.

- Sorry?

- In Paris.

It was dead, obviously.
- Oh.

- This was four years ago.

I was--I am fascinated

by the science
of Georges Cuvier--

the anatomist
and paleontologist?

I couldn't attend university
officially being the wrong sex,

so he gave me
private instruction

in my attic apartment
on the Left Bank.

- I've always been fascinated
by the human body;

how it works,

especially the brain.

The brain is the most
extraordinary organ.

And when you see one,
it's just meat,

offal like the rest
of our corporeal form.

And yet, what the brain does
in one day,

in one hour, in one second...

right now.

Everything you see, hear,
think, feel, desire

in any one moment
is all processed and retained

in this one lump of stuff
inside the skull--

your skull, my skull.

You think about it.

Isn't it exciting
that we can think at all?

The brain
of even the smallest animal

is ridiculously sophisticated,
but the human brain...

We have language.

We invent. We analyze.

We build cathedrals
and cities and society.

We write music and poetry.

We fall in love.

Aren't we lucky
to be alive--

to have life?

Isn't every tiny moment
an inexplicable delight,

packed with potential?

- How do?
- Um, oui.

- Is, um, everything
all right?

Think she'd had the idea
from somebody

that Shibden was
quite a bit grander than it is.

I don't think she'd understood
that she'd be expected

to turn her hand
to a bit of all sorts.

- And the other thing.

- What other thing?

- What, your Joe not told you?
- What?

- Well, I've been told
not to say owt.

- Pregnant.
- Eh?

- George Playforth's.

Does Miss Lister know?

- Would she be standing there
ironing everybody's smalls

if Miss Lister knew?

- Well, so...

what--what's she gonna do?

- She swallowed a load of gin.

Goodness knows
where she got it from.

- It didn't work.

- Has she not got any money
to get back to her family with?

- They're in Rouen.

- Well, tell Miss Marian.

- I'm not telling
anybody anything.

- George's?

- She reckons he said
he'd marry her

as soon as they got back here.

- Silly--

poor kid.

- Aye, well...

- What'll happen to her?

- She needs to find
a kind fella

with a Christian heart
who will pretend it's his.

- Only how?

And why would anyone?

- No, I had no idea.

- Oh, he's awful.
I thought you did.

- When?
- When you got rid of him.

When you sent him outside
to look at your horse.

- Well,

yes, I could see
he was irritating you.

He's never touched me, as such.

It's just the way he looks
where he shouldn't.

Oh, and the last time
he was here, he was so close

I could feel him
breathing on me.

- Well, then you don't
send for him anymore.

You send for Dr. Day
or Mr. Sunderland.

- Oh, then there'd be
the whole inquest into why.

- From who?

- The tribe.

My aunt,

Edwards, Priestleys,

the Rawsons,
the whole lot of them.

- I didn't know you were
related to the Rawsons.

- My family's been very adept

at strategic marriages
over the years.

It's yet another reason

why I'm such a disappointment
to everyone.

- Are you?
- My, uh--

I think so, yes.

And, of course,
they all have opinions,

even when I barely
see any of them.

- Miss Walker.

You are an intelligent...

- 29?

29-year-old woman
of substantial--

seriously substantial
independent means.

Which doctor you choose
to patronize

is a matter for yourself...
- Yes.

- And yourself alone.

- You're right, but...

all I was going to say
is that...

when one has been an...

invalid...

or at least seen as one
by the whole family

for so long, it's...

it's hard to shake off
some people's idea that

they have the right to...

interfere in one's life.

- An invalid.

How?

You don't look
very invalid to me.

Good Lord.

I haven't been here four hours.

- How did that happen?

There's nothing wrong
with her.

Can I call again tomorrow?

- Really?

- At least, nothing
that a little spice

of matrimony wouldn't cure.

All she needs to do now

is realize that the nature
of what she feels for me...

is love.

- Miss Lister!

Good afternoon, ma'am.

I--I called at the hall.

Twice.

No one seemed to know
where you were.

So, coal.

Uh, James Holt is the man
to talk to.

Very knowledgeable.
Very interesting, actually.

- What is he?

- Oh, he's a local
coal agent, ma'am.

So he knows all the pits
in the area

and the markets, as well.

He, uh--he says
you'd no doubt do very well

if you reopened
the old Listerwick pit,

as, uh, suggested,

or, indeed, sunk a new one
higher up.

But, uh, he says
you should understand

that it's
an expensive business,

time-consuming,
and there are alternatives.

- Now, ma'am,

since I was approached

by Mr. Washington
on your behalf,

I have been doing
a bit of asking around,

discreetly.

I assumed you wouldn't mind.

And Mr. Hinscliffe--
the coal merchant--

would be very keen
to offer you

100 pound an acre
for your coal.

But, this is the thing:

at present, he only wants
the one acre down at Mytholm.

Now, really,

if the coal were mine,

I'd be wanting
nearer 200 an acre,

and the Rawsons

are in a position
to pay that.

I understand you don't
want to do business

with the Rawsons,
ma'am, and--

- Mr. Washington thinks
they're stealing my coal.

- I think they
very probably are,

given that your beds abut
directly onto theirs.

But how do you prove it?

- I apply to the
Lord Chancellor for an order

to go down into
the Rawsons' works.

- And by the time you got it,

they'd have turned
the water against you

and flooded your coal,
and nobody'd be able

to get down there to prove
anything one way or the other.

- Water is the enemy, ma'am,
in a mine.

Controlling the flow
is half the job.

- And the rivalry is bitter
and lawless,

and people will use the water
against each other.

- The object would be
to surprise them on the day--

- Do you think
that Christopher Rawson

wouldn't get wind of that
before then?

He's a justice of the peace.
He's a magistrate.

He's Lord Lieutenant
of the county.

- I'll not be bullied
on my own land.

Not by anyone,
above ground or under it.

- No, of course not, but--

- If you'll give Mr. Holt
a moment, Miss Lister,

he has a suggestion.

- I was saying,
the Rawsons are in a position

to offer more than Hinscliffe,

which, if they think
you are going to sell to him,

they'd have to.

Wouldn't they?

Otherwise they'd be worried
that he'd get down there

and see what he's paid for
already taken.

They don't know that he only
wants that one acre

to access this other bed.

- And what'd be to stop
the Rawsons turning this water

on Hinscliffe if that's what
they're capable of,

and I'd sold to him
and not to them?

- Oh, I don't think
it would get that far.

They want your coal,

even if they have
to pay for it fairly.

And, do you see,

that if this was
negotiated skillfully,

it'd be a way
of upping the price.

So they'd end up paying for
what they've already stolen.

- I'd like a breakdown
of the Rawsons' costs.

How much coal they get
from an acre

and how much they can
sell it for in Halifax.

Can you do that for me?

- Mr. Rawson.

- Welly.

- Afternoon.

- Not in the gig
again today, sir?

- No, not,
as you see,

nor any other day.

I've sent it back
to the manufacturer

in Liverpool per canal.

It rattled and shook like
the devil had a hold of it.

The thing was a death trap.
- Oh, dear.

- And overpriced.

- And you spoke so highly of it
just after you got it, sir.

- No, I didn't.

- Your brother's here, sir.

- Afternoon, Christopher.

- Jeremiah.

- How are you?
- Busy.

- I'll be brief.
Can I?

- What's up?

- You all right?

- What can I do for you?

- Miss Lister is back.

Did you know?

- She was in here
two weeks since,

depositing her rents.

Collected her own rents.

And she drove the high-flier
over from Wibsey,

someone was telling me.

You couldn't invent it,
could you?

- Right, well, I've got wind
of a rumor that Holt's been

talking to another company
on her behalf

over her signing a lease
over her coal.

I need to go
and talk to her, Christopher.

I need to be in a position
to offer her more,

more than whatever
this other one's offering,

because if I don't,
if it's true,

then whoever it is
is gonna go down there

and find out
what we've been doing.

- What you've been doing.

- Well, only because
you told me to!

You know, it's never
sat comfortably with me,

even when she wasn't here
and didn't seem

to be doing anything
with her coal.

We ought to do the proper thing
and make her an offer.

And then we can
mine the stuff legally and...

Cover up any trespass

that might have
accidentally occurred.

- It was accidental.

- To start with,
yes, perhaps.

- Don't let her run rings
around you over a price.

Because she will.

- Afternoon, Hardcastle.

- Oh, good afternoon,
Miss Lister.

- Thomas.
- Miss Lister.

- This yours?
- Well, yeah.

Oh, cart.

Yeah, it were me father's,
and his father before him.

Seen a fair few years of work,

but we keep fettling it,
and it keeps on going.

- And how is
your other son?

- Doctor said
he'll be all right.

But he's more in himself.

He's not spoke
since it happened.

- How are things
at home, Thomas?

- All right, ma'am.

- Your wife in?
- Aye, she is.

- Hello.

- We're fettling the cart.

- Good.

Excellent.
You carry on.

- Alice, Miss Lister.

- Mrs. Hardcastle, how are you?

Uh, um...

Good.

- How are you settling in?
- Oh, very well, thank you.

A-all things considered.

We're--we're very suited
with the house.

- Is this Henry?
- Uh, yes, ma'am.

- And there's
no infection, I'm told.

He's--he's...

been very lucky,
he's healing very well.

Very good of you, ma'am.

To pay for Dr. Kenny.

- It was my sister
who paid for Dr. Kenny,

but yes, it was
very kind of her.

Still nothing more
about the man in the gig?

- Trouble is, ma'am,
nobody saw him.

- Someone must have
seen something.

- I went to speak
to the constable,

and he said
without information

we can't do owt.

You can't go to a magistrate
without information.

- Only a certain kind of person
would have the money

to drive a gig like that,
so that narrows down the field.

Has anyone spoken
to Miss Walker's groom?

Because surely if he was facing
the gig as it was approaching

he was in the best position
to see something.

- I don't--
well, we haven't, no.

- What do you think, Henry?

- Are you a man?

Well, that's a question.

And you are not
the first person to ask it.

I was in Paris once,

dressed extremely well,
I thought,

in silk and ribbons,
ringlets in my hair.

Very gay, very ladylike.

And even then,
someone mistook me for a...

Mm.

So, no,

I am not a man.

I'm a lady.
A woman.

I'm a lady woman.

I'm a woman.

Now, who's this?

- Jerry Greenwood.

He's an infantryman
in the Duke of Yorks.

- My brother was in
the 84th Yorks and Lancs.

He was an ensign.

I taught him how
to shoot straight,

and he taught me
how to fight with a sword.

He drowned in a river

in Ireland 18 years ago.

Just turned 20.

- Jerry's 19.

- Well, then,
let's hope he fares better

than my poor Sam did.

- Can you really
fight with a sword?

- After a fashion.

I've never been
called upon to do it,

but you never know the day.

Right.

I shall go
and talk to this groom

next time I'm at Crow Nest,

and before then,
I shall go and visit Mr. Rawson

in his capacity as magistrate
and see what he has to say.

Chin up.

- Thank you.

- Oh.

Oh, no, that's gone in.

Oh.

I'm going to make some
improvements to the estate.

I thought I'd
run them past you, Father,

so you know what's going on.

- In case I might have
an opinion?

- So--yes.

So I'm going to construct
an ornamental walk

from the garden gate
down the Hall Ing

down the side of Calf Croft,
and into Lower Brook Ing.

- Why?

- Then at the top
of Lower Brook Ing--

because it will
look elegant, Marian--

I'm going to build
an ornamental moss house,

or a chaumiere,
just a small one.

- What for?
- A what?

- A chaumiere.
Like a summer house.

Like an ornament--
- Like a shed.

- Then, at the same time,

I'm going to put up
all of the hedges

in all of the fields
below the hall.

- Why, though?
- Really?

- Yes, to create more
of a park.

A park land.

Because, Marian,
I'm sick of the place

looking like an old farm.

- It is an old farm.

- Shibden Hall...

is the oldest house in Halifax.

It dates back, as you know,

to the reign of Henry V
and Agincourt.

It's where the first manorial
courts in Halifax were held.

It is not,
and never has been, a farm.

And it saddens me

deeply

that people might
look at it like that,

so I would thank you very much
not to refer to it as such.

We are Listers.

And Shibden Hall...

is our ancestral home.

And it should always reflect
the quiet dignity

of our ancient lineage.

£1,000.

- I offered to give him 500,

but he's still asking
to borrow 1,000 more.

- And why does
your cousin Atkinson

want £1,000 more?

- Business?
An--an investment?

I don't know,
it's rather vague.

- It's a lot of money
to be vague about

to the lender.

Has he named the terms
on which he'll pay you back?

Has he said when he expects
to pay you back?

- Uh...

- Has he offered
to pay interest?

- No, nothing like that.

- So these aunts and uncles
and cousins

protect you
from fortune hunters

and gold diggers
out in the world,

but not the ones
inside your own family.

What you need,
Miss Walker...

is a well-worded letter.

- You see, it would have
taken me three weeks

to compose a letter--

a firm, clear letter like this,

what with, oh, tying myself up
in knots trying not to offend.

And then I'd have been
so anxious about

sending the thing,
I'd probably have ended up

throwing it
in the wastepaper basket

and just lending him
the money anyway...

- You're a very kind,
good-natured person...

- Yes, and, no doubt,
never see it back.

- Who just needs
a little more self-confidence.

If he writes you again,
you tell me,

and I'll dictate
something else.

Or perhaps now maybe
you'll have the confidence

to compose something
yourself.

- It is confidence, isn't it?

I never had any.

You see, my aunt
at Cliffhill, she suggested

and arranged this holiday,

this excursion I'm going on
with my cousin Catherine--

- Which holiday?
- The week after next.

To the Lake District.

And don't misunderstand me,

I'm--I'm very fond
of Catherine.

I mean,
she's my best friend.

She gave me
that paper knife.

- How long
are you going for?

- Three weeks.

And, you see,
this is the thing:

three weeks is a long time
to be alone with someone,

even someone
that you're fond of.

And, you know, I--I might--

- What,

get fed up with her?

Which one is Catherine?

- Um, I'm more concerned that
she might get fed up with me.

- Mm.

- She's Mr. Stansfield Rawson's
eldest daughter.

- Do you have to go
for the whole three weeks?

- Well, it's all been
organized and arranged.

It's not really something--

Uh, good Lord.
I'm so sorry.

- Don't worry!
You're hurt, you're bleeding!

- It's nothing
I can mend this.

- Doesn't matter.
Here.

- I can replace it.
- If you like.

Are you all right?
- I don't know what with.

- It doesn't matter.

- Because, of course,
it would never have

the same sentimental value,
whatever I replaced it with,

if she's such a dear friend.

- Oh, I...

- I think it would.

Let me.

- Would you like to come
to Switzerland with me?

In the spring.

I can't go any sooner
with my aunt, with her leg.

She has ulcers.

And Shibden--I'm planning
some renovations

which I must oversee
or they won't be done properly.

- But I'd like to be in Rome
at Easter for the carnival.

It's glorious.

Switzerland in the spring,
and then on to Rome at Easter.

- I've never been abroad.

- Well, then,

you haven't lived.

- Elizabeth and I--
my sister, you know--

we did once
talk about traveling.

- I see I must be uncommonly
and fastidiously delicate

in leading her
into my own ways.

- Oh...

- But I believe
I shall succeed with her.

- How do?

Josephine and Fanny
are laying like fun.

I thought you might
like a few.

- Ooh, lovely.

- And, uh...

The garden's beautiful
out front.

I thought this
little selection

might bring some cheer
to the table.

- Can you fill a jug
with water?

Eau.
D'leau?

- Yeah, so, the thing is,

can you tell Eugénie...

thing is, I think
she don't like me.

Because, thing is,

when we first met
at coaching inn--

because Miss Lister
were in such a bad mood,

and I had to lug the imperial
on the handcart

up the hill in the heat.

She might have got the idea
that I'm unpleasant

and unhelpful
and short-tempered,

which I'm not, as a rule.

I think you'll agree.

Uh, so,
if you could explain

that I'm sorry...

if we got off
on a wrong footing.

I just--given
the situation she's in.

I thought she's enough on

without thinking
I'm some sort of ogre.

- Uh...

Sorry.

Um, rude.

In Halifax.

Merci.

- She says, "Thank you."

- You'll have to teach me
a bit of French,

and then, uh,
I can talk to her.

- Oui.

- Sorry?
- Oui.

- It means "yes."
- Oui.

Are you sure?

What's "no," then?

- Um, pocket holes?

They all have them.

I think it's to take them
to the theater.

Well, a certain sort
of theater.

- What?

Pocket holes?
- Yes, sewn in specially.

- What for?

- Well, I did wonder
for a long time,

and then I asked Mrs. Barlow,

this English lady I'd met.

And she...

I can't tell you.
It's too outrageous.

- Tell me, tell me!
Go on, tell me!

You--you can't hint
at something so intriguing

and then not say it.

Well, it's very French.

- Only the French.
Only in France.

No, only in Paris.

Well...

uh, apparently...

it's so...

a man...

might pleasure himself...

Without drawing attention
to himself.

- Oh, that--

- Oh, you've gone red.

I shouldn't have told you.

- That's not true!

- Of course it's true.
It's Paris!

That's why people go there!

Not me, obviously.

I just went there
to study anatomy.

- Miss Lister!

- Have you ever kissed anyone?

No.

- Perhaps you wouldn't tell me
if you had.

- Have you?

- I asked you.

Good Lord,

how did we get onto that?

- Well, have you never
wanted to?

- Only to
see what it was like.

- Who?

- Have you?

- Wanted to?

Yes.

- Well, who?
When?

- Every time I come here.

What do you mean?

- Surely you know what I mean.

And I think you feel
the same way about me.

- What?

- I think you're a little bit
in love with me.

- I--

- Are you all right?

- I, um...

- Have I overstepped the mark?

- No.

- I've offended you.
- No.

- I've embarrassed you.

- No, no, no.

- I have.

Would you like me to go?

- No.

- Well, then...

have I misread it?

- No, I...

I--I do have...

very warm and...

tender feelings for you.

I don't know, I...

it's--oh, Lord.

- I'll come back tomorrow.
- Um...

- I'll in a thousand miseries
between now and then

thinking that I've
overstepped the mark

or that I've horrified you
or that you despise me.

- I could never
despise you, Anne.

Please don't ever imagine that,
not for a second.

- I'm sorry.

- No, I'm sorry.

- You don't need
to be frightened.

- Well, I think, by and by,

she'll fall into my view
of things admirably,

now that she's realized
that you can fall in love

with another woman.

Well, me.

And I really do believe that
if she's fond enough of me

and manageable...

Might we not be happy?

It was since your visit,

since you and Mr. Priestley
brought her to Shipton.

- Oh, how delightful.

- I returned the visit,
and I don't know how it is

but we seem to get on
so very nicely together.

- That's so kind of you.

- Is it?

- Well, you know,
she hasn't been well.

- Yes. How?

- Well, she has this problem--

this weakness in her spine.

I think it's menstrual.

And she gets anxious

and frets about
the oddest things.

She always seems to think
people are after her money.

Even people in her own family.

- But they are.

Her cousin Atkinson.
- Oh, him.

Yes, but him aside,
she alienates people.

People who care about her.

And then the ones that really
are after her money, she--

Well, she's naive.

What she really needs
is a good friend,

someone slightly older
and more worldly wise

than Catherine Rawson;

someone who can guide her
on a steady path

without her feeling us old folk
are constantly interfering.

- And perhaps
she's found one.

Argus.

- Jeramiah Rawson
was here this afternoon

to see you about the coal.

You missed him.

- You're playing with fire.
- Good.

- Dinner in half an hour!

And if we could not have
muddy boots

in the dining room again,

that would be splendid

for the servants

who have to
beat the carpets

and keep everything clean!

I've put your post
on your desk!

Thank you, Marian.

- Donald's asked me
to marry him.

I shan't say no.

- You're too old for this.

- Ah.

Thank you.

Now, then.

How would you all
feel about it

if I got married again?

Why is that...

Why is that funny,
Charlotte?

- Well, who to?
- No one.

I'm just--I'm just asking,
in theory, how you'd feel.

- Who'd have you, Father?
- Oh, that's nice.

Yes, very comical.
Thank you, Hannah.

- Would she boss us?
- She'd take you in hand.

Which, by the look on you,
is what you need.

- Is she pretty?

- Does she have a face
like a bust shoe?

- You...

You may be surprised
one day, lady.

- I'd like to see Mr. Rawson.

- Ah, Miss Lister.
- Yes, good morning.

- What may we
do for you today?

- Did you hear
about the accident

above the hall a few weeks ago?

Seven-year-old boy,

son of one of my tenants,

lost a leg,
and above the knee, too.

I'd like to know what the
constable is doing about it.

And I believe you wanted
to talk to me

about my coals, too.

- In the absence
of any evidence,

there's very little
the constable can do.

I have spoken to him
about it.

And it's my brother Jeremiah

you need to speak to
about the coal.

I tend not
to get my hands dirty.

I'm surprised you do,
Miss Lister.

- Is it not the constable's job
to gather evidence?

- Well, he's a very busy man.

And strictly speaking,

his jurisdiction
is the town itself.

- So I must gather
my own evidence.

- Well, that's one option,

if you've time.

- They're good people,

and they're my people,

and I look after my tenants.

The boy will be very limited,
what work he'll do on the farm.

- You realize the fellow
probably dwells

in another part
of the county entirely?

Surely only somebody
unfamiliar with Halifax

would drive so recklessly
along that road.

You'd never trace him.

- You know a lot about it.

- Only what old Miss Walker
told my mother.

- Of course.

How lucky your cousin
and her aunt

weren't damaged in it, too.

I'm surprised, for their sake,
you're not more interested.

- Oh, I am interested.

And if I hear
anything significant,

I'll let you know.

- Tell your brother I was
looking for him, would you?

If he wants to make
an appointment with me,

I shall endeavor
to be in next time.

If I know when he's coming.

- Of course.

- How many bonnets
are you packing?

- Three.

- I've got seven.

Is that too many?

I can leave some here
if it's too many.

Are you taking a parasol?

I am.

Do you think we'll need them?

I might buy a new one,
actually, when we get there.

I think we'll need them.
I hope we do.

Which books are you taking?

- Oh, um, Miss Lister's
recommended

and leant me several.

- You've talked about nothing
but Miss Lister

since I got here.

- Have I?

- You do know what people say
about her, don't you?

- What?

What do people
say about her?

- That she can't be trusted

in the company of other women.

- Who says that?
- People.

- Well, what do you mean?

What does she do to them?
- I don't know.

- Well, does she bite them?
- I don't know.

- No, come on, Catherine.

You can't say
something like that

and then not justify it.

What does she do to them

that means she can't
be trusted around them?

- I'm just telling you
what I've heard.

- From whom?
- People.

- What people?
- Just people.

- Well...

it all sounds rather vague

and ill-mannered.

Why do you think people
say things like that?

- Well, apparently she's a...

She's a bit like a man.

- No.

No, I'll tell you
why they say it.

Because she's unusual

and singular and clever,

and because she doesn't conform
to the way people think

a woman should look
or think or be.

That's why.

- I--I don't know,
but apparently she's very odd.

- Well, you've never
even met her.

- I'm not entirely sure
I'd want to.

- Miss Lister is one
of the nicest, kindest,

most clever
and interesting people

I have ever met, so you can
tell that to your people.

And then perhaps
you should meet her,

make up your own mind.

You probably will.

She'll probably call by
before we leave

to wish us well and tell us

what all the most interesting
places to visit are.

She's very good
at things like that.

- So she's never tried to...

To--

To touch you or anything?

- Don't be absurd.

- Are you taking
your drawing things

and your watercolors?

- Yes, of course.

- Good.

I just got a new set, actually.

I'm very excited
to start using it.

It's got a yellow in it that--
it's sort of a bit more...

- Oh, here she is.

- Miss Lister.
- Mr. Rawson.

Sorry I kept you waiting.
- Not at all.

- So many jobs on hand
around the estate,

and I do like
to keep an eye on the men.

what can I do for you?

- I understand you're
leasing out your coal,

and if that is the case,
my brother and I would like

to ask you how much
you'd take for it.

- What will you offer?
- Oh.

You must set the price, madam.

- Per acre?
- Yes, that would be--

- 226 pounds, 17 shillings,
and 6 pence.

- S-sorry?

- Per acre.

- That's...

That's ridiculous.

- Mm, it isn't.

I asked Mr. Holt,
the coal agent.

He advised me
it was worth 200 an acre.

- Why, even that's
pretty steep.

- I asked him to calculate
how much it costs you

to get your coal
and then how much it sold for,

which he did.

But I think he got
his calculations wrong.

Either that,
or he was trying to dupe me.

I think he underestimated me,
Mr. Rawson,

with me being
the gentler sex,

which I know is something
you and your brother won't do.

- The price you have named
is, with respect--

- Ridiculous?
Hmm, it isn't.

Let me explain why.

You sell your coal
down in Halifax

at eight pence per coal.

- It's actually seven pence.

- I asked a number of people
who buy it from you.

No one said seven pence.

- Some we sell
at eight pence, yes.

- So I'm reliably informed
that the cost of getting

and hurrying to the surface
20 corves of coal

is six shillings.

That's 72 pence divided by 20,

and, well, that's
thruppence ha'penny per corve,

which means you make four-pence
ha'penny clear gain per corve.

Now, let's times that by five,

and we have one shilling,
tenpence ha'penny--

or 22 pence--per square yard.

4,840 square yards
in an acre times 22,

and your clear gain

is 453 pounds
and 15 shillings

per acre.

Now, if the getter
and the proprietor

were to share
their profits equally--

which, again,
I'm told is the custom--

that divides into 226 pounds,
17 shillings, and 6 pence.

- We never make that
kind of profit, Miss Lister.

- Well, then, I suggest
you look narrowly into it,

because I could.

What you should know,

Mr. Rawson, is that I'm...

What's the word, Marian?

- Uh, I--
- "Indifferent." Thank you.

I'm indifferent about
leasing my coals because--

- Shibden is rich
in coal, madam.

You'd be ill-advised
not to do anything with it.

- I'm indifferent about
leasing my coals, Mr. Rawson,

because
if I don't get my price,

I shall sink my own pits.

- Well, that--that would--

- Well, open a new one
at the top of the hill

and then reopen Listerwick
at the bottom, down at Mytholm.

- That would be
an incredibly...

expensive undertaking.

- Mm, in the short term, maybe.

- In all seriousness,
Miss Lister,

150 pound per acre would be
much nearer the mark.

I think I've explained to you

as simply as I can
why it isn't.

226 pounds, 17 shillings,
and 6 pence,

Mr. Rawson, is what I shall
take for my coal per acre,

in all seriousness,

and I shall offer it
to the other party

at the same price.

- Well, I should have
to speak to my brother

before I offered you anything
resembling that figure.

- Of course.

Was there anything else?

- I knew she'd run rings
round you.

- Yes, well, maybe you should
have come with me.

It'd have made
no difference anyhow.

She keeps herself
very well informed.

I need to keep working
those beds, Christopher.

I can't stop production.
I have contracts to fulfill.

- I used to know her,

socially,

years ago, when she first
started coming to Halifax.

- Has she not
always lived here?

- No, no, no.

They're from East Yorkshire,
her side of the family.

Poor relations.

She adopted...

her Uncle James
and Aunt Anne up at Shibden

when she was...

16?

Younger? 15?

They couldn't cope
with her at home,

so she came to live here.

- "Couldn't cope" how?

- I'm not sure.

Bit of an handful, I imagine.

She was at
the Manor School in York,

only she'd been expelled.

Never knew what for.

I mean, I could guess.

- Is that true?
- Oh, yes.

She likes the ladies,

does Miss Lister.

I think she's bluffing.

Nobody'd pay
226 pounds an acre.

And she'll not sink
her own pit.

She can't afford to,
not without borrowing money.

Big money.

And anyway,
she never stays around here

any longer than she has to.

I think her tastes have become
rather more refined and exotic

than anything she could
pick up in Halifax.

And she'll not shit
on her own doorstep.

She's too clever.

She knows there'd be
repercussions.

I wonder
if we shouldn't just...

gird our loins

and bide our time...

and see what happens.

- This your sister?
- Mm-hmm.

You're very good.

These are very good.

- Maybe one day
you could paint me.

- I'd love to paint you.

- Oh.

- What?

- Before you set off,
I have something for you

to wear.

- What is it?
You shouldn't have.

Oh...

- I bought it in Venice
two years ago.

Look, it's a little gondola.

- Oh...

- Not as useful
as a paper knife, but--

- It's beautiful, Anne.

I wish I wasn't going.

I always like the idea
of travel, but then...

you know, my brother died
in Naples.

- You are not going to die
in the Lake District.

Quite the opposite.

It's going
to make you feel alive.

Here.

Wear it always.

And then...

when you think of me...

you'll feel perfectly safe.

- I'll miss you.

- I'll miss you.

- I wish you could
come with us.

- I've been invited
to a wedding in London.

I don't want to go.

I told my aunt
I'm not going, but...

I'm worried it'll look poor
if I didn't turn up.

A lot of my London friends
are going, and...

I'd hate them
to think ill of me.

- Why don't you want to go?

- It's complicated.

- I imagine if you didn't go

all of your friends
would be very disappointed.

Sometimes when I've tried

to avoid doing something
or going somewhere

but then had to do it anyway,

I've often come away feeling
like it's been

one of the best days
I've ever had.

So maybe, if you went,

the thing that
seems complicated might

sort itself out.

- Are you ready to let--
sorry, Miss Lister.

Are you ready to let James
take your trunk downstairs?

It'll be dark
before we get to Manchester

if we don't leave within
the next quarter of an hour.

- Yes, thank you, James.

- Think of me...

when you get to Wastwater.

It's so tranquil,
it's so sublime.

- We will.

- Well, then,
I'd better be off.

I have a man to see at 3:00.

Have fun.
- We will.

- Miss Rawson,
- Miss Lister.

See?

- How much?

- 226 pounds, 17 shillings,
and 6 pence.

- Oof, steep for the one acre.

- It's what it's worth,
Mr. Hinscliffe.

- I only want it
for the Listerwick shaft

so I can have access
to this other bed I've leased.

- Miss Lister
understands that.

- Would you take
any less, ma'am?

- Well, if I can't get access,

I shall have
to sink me own sh-shaft,

and it'd be barely worth
the cost of--

- Well, you've heard
Miss Lister's price.

Perhaps you'd like a day
or two to think about it.

- No, no.

Miss--Miss Lister, ma'am...

- You think because
I'm a woman,

I'll be persuaded
to take less?

Would you pull that face
and put on that voice

and ask a man
to take a lesser price, hmm?

No, course you wouldn't.

So don't ask me.

- 226 pounds and how much?

- 17 shillings and 6 pence.

- I can get
a banker's draft to you

first thing in the morning.

- No, don't do that.
- S-sorry?

- The other party
has first refusal,

so before I accept your offer

I'm obliged to see
if they'd like to better it.

- Who is the other party?
- That's my business.

- You do know the Rawsons are
stealing your coal, don't you?

My men heard their men
in your upper bed.

You can't loosen coal
without making noise.

And it couldn't be anyone else.

Not there.

- As I say, I gave
the other party my word

that I'd let them know before
I accepted any other offers.

Was there anything else?

- No.

- Mr. Hinscliffe is leaving.

- Thank you.

- I'll write a note
to the other party

informing that we've been
offered our price,

and if they could advise me
at their earliest convenience

how they wish
to proceed, etcetera.

But in the meantime...

Could you ask Holt
to look into how much

it really would cost me
to sink my own pit

at the top of the hill
and reopen Listerwick myself?

- Certainly, ma'am.

- Well done.

- Eugénie!
- Oh!

- Eugénie...

We're going to London.

Aunt.

How are you feeling?

- Oh...

- I've decided...

That it might look rather poor
if I didn't attend the wedding.

Lady Stuart might
put me up in Richmond,

and I could be back
by next Friday.

What do you think?
Is that all right?

- Of course.

- Eugénie's packing.

We'll walk down to Halifax,
get the high flyer to Leeds.

We could be there
by Wednesday night.

And Marian's here.

- Dearly beloved,

we are gathered together here
in the sight of God

and in the face
of this congregation

to join together this man
and this woman

in holy matrimony,

which is an honorable estate

instituted of God in the time
of man's innocenency,

signifying unto us
the mystical union

that is betwixt Christ
and His church.

Which holy estate
Christ adorned and beautified

with his presence
at the first miracle

that he wrought
in Cana of Galilee,

and is commended
of St. Paul to be honorable

among all men.

Therefore, is not
to be enterprised,

nor taken in hand
unadvisedly,

lightly, or wantonly,

to satisfy man's carnal lusts
and appetites,

like brute beasts
that have no understanding.

- I spotted you.
I saw you.

- Excuse me.

- Anne.

- Mrs. Cameron.

- I am so pleased

you changed your mind
about coming.

You look beautiful.

Oh, you are curious.

You wear black
even to a wedding.

- Oh, I started wearing black
because of a wedding.

When my friend Mrs. Lawton
got married 16 years ago

to a charmless buffoon.

It seemed
inexplicably appropriate.

It's a tradition
I've continued.

Not that Donald is a...
- No.

- Charmless...
- No.

- Buffoon.

No.

- I came in spite
of my aunt's illness

and my estate affairs
because I wanted to say...

I hope you and Donald
will be very happy together.

- Thank you.

- Our time on Earth is brief...

And we should all strive
to make the most of it...

And be as happy as we can be.

- I'm sorry if I hurt you.

I was always very fond of you.

You must know that.

I'm just...

Not like that.

- Oh.

- Hello, madam.

- We're going
to the Lake District.

I thought that you might be
more reasonable to deal with.

More reasonable?
Oh, you mean softer.

Well, now you know me better.

- Hang on, hang on, hang on.
- What's she accusing me of?

You're drunk, Sowden.

Take him home.

Leave him alone.

Nature played a trick on me,

putting a bold spirit like mine
in this vessel.

If we want to be happy,
we have to risk getting hurt.

You're playing with fire.

You're so selfish!

One day, I shall have a son,

and he will have a greater claim
to Shibden than you!

-Yes. Certainly. Thank you.
-Oh!

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