Original subtitles

No, Beatrice, I have already told you. Told us, yes. It is completely out of

question. But you haven't even listened to what we've been saying. I have

listened to more than enough of your insolence, my girl.

Please, Father, she's only trying to explain. You keep out of this,

But it's my future that you're discussing. And there is nothing more to

That's not fair. Did you not hear what I said?

I will decide what is best for you, Evangeline, and it is final.

think we should apologize?

No, Evie.

We have nothing to apologize for.

I've never seen him so angry.

It was a perfectly reasonable request which anyone but father would at least

have considered.

Perhaps breakfast wasn't the best time to bring it up. There is no best time

with him, Evie.

He should have sent you to school in the first place instead of finding the

cheapest, most ineffectual governess in the country.

But you didn't go to school either.

I had mother.

It's what she would have wanted for you. I know it is.

If not art school, somewhere else where you could mix with other young people.

Miss Bacon, quick.

What? The master is having some sort of attack.

There was nothing I could do about it, Mother.

I'm only his executor. It was specified in the will.

A private funeral, family only, no hymns, no flowers. Typical of Henry.

-pinching to the last.

One owes it to other people to make a splash.

What about his patient?

And his medical friends?

I'm sure Beatrice and Evangeline are relieved that it is to be a quiet

Quiet is one thing.

Complete silence is another.

When I think of your dear father's funeral... That was rather different.

Yes.

How many funerals get into the Tatler?

That might have had something to do with the Duke of York being present.

Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts.

Shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer, but spare us, Lord most holy,

O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour.

Thou most worthy Judge Eternal, suffer us not at our last hour for any

pains of death to fall from thee.

For as much as it hath pleased almighty God of his great mercy to take unto

himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his

to the ground.

It's an admirably simple will, drawn up by my partner rather than myself. It

seemed only proper, since I'm a relative as well as a beneficiary.

Please bequeath to me his medical library.

Otherwise, the entire estate goes to the two of you. That is to say, the house

and its contents, together with all its investments.

I shall, of course, have to go into it all with the bank and its stockbrokers

before I can tell you the exact amount involved.

We'll arrange an appointment at my office in a week or so.

But I think I can safely say that it'll be a not inconsiderable sum.

In the meantime, I've made an arrangement with the bank to open a

account with overdraft facilities.

You mean we'll be able to draw out money?

You'll be young ladies of means.

Little mom.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to wake you. But I wasn't asleep.

I know he could be strict with me.

He could be awful.

But I think he meant for the best.

In spite of everything, I did love him.

I know.

Here. I feel so guilty, too. You?

It was me you were quarrelling about.

But it could have happened any time. The doctor said so.

Well, perhaps it wouldn't have happened then.

No, Evie, I refuse to feel guilty, and neither must you.

If he had been a reasonable man, we could have discussed it. calmly.

I was damned if I was going to stand by and watch you waste away your youth as

I've wasted mine.

Looking after me?

Nonsense. If I hadn't been born, mother might still be alive.

You wouldn't have been stuck with me. No, Evie.

You must never think that.

Having you has been the one thing that's made it all worthwhile.

I can't wait to get these beatly books out of the house.

Arthur is welcome to Longhouse.

Do you remember that time when I pinched one and learned all the section on male

anatomy by heart? I remember Miss Pilkington's face when she found your

drawings. Well, made a change from bowls of fruit.

Isn't it odd?

I know all there is to know about a man's anatomy.

Absolutely nothing about men.

Oh, you still have time to learn. You're not an old maid like your sister.

But he's not that old, Bea.

It is when half the single men have been wiped out. The rest can have the

kicking.

Was there ever anyone?

There might have been.

Father soon saw him off.

Afraid he'd lose his unpaid housekeeper.

Was it Philip White?

I thought so.

I remember him coming around when we were little.

He played snakes and ladders with us.

I've always hated this room.

Me too.

I used to dread being summoned here by Father.

It's so dark and drab.

We'll get rid of all this old furniture and redecorate it ourselves.

Yes, like we did our room.

I'll think of some ideas. Something light and funny.

And we'll have electricity installed.

That'll please Molly.

And we'll engage another maid as well. It's far too much for one.

Especially now, we'll be going out more.

I still can't believe we're going to be free to do as we wish.

We'll do all the things Mother would have wanted us to.

Travel, theatre, galleries.

Of course.

And a social life that extends a little further than Aunt Lydia and Arthur.

It seems awful planning our future like this.

Father's only just... At least now we have a future to plan.

Will we truly be able to go to Paris?

If Nancy Cunard can, why shouldn't we?

We'll take a room in the Latin Quarter.

Hobnob with poets and jazz musicians.

Drink wine and cognac and black coffee. And smoke Russian cigarettes.

And wear African bangles.

And while we're about it, we'll call in on Madame Chanel at the Rue Cambon.

Could you give us a few tips on dressmaking, please?

It's not just a game anymore, is it?

We'll actually be able to do these things. We certainly will.

Tomorrow we'll go to the bank.

Okay.

Mother once took me here on my 10th birthday.

We'd been to the National Gallery.

You had tea at Gunther's?

Father didn't know, of course.

He thought we were going to the dentist.

I shall take you there.

After we've seen Arthur.

It'll be our celebration.

I'm sorry to be the harbinger of such news.

And to have raised your hopes falsely.

Suffice it to say that it came as much of a shock to me and to your aunt as it

has to you.

But I don't understand.

Surely there must be... Let me put it in layman's terms, eventually.

It's perfectly simple, Evie. Father has left us nothing but the house and a

stack of bills.

I didn't quite say that, Beatrice.

There are a few hundred pounds in his deposit account.

Carefully invested, that should give you each an annual income save.

Forty pounds.

But there might have been more.

Father was a successful doctor.

Not, alas, a successful businessman.

It seems he took bad advice.

Speculated on high -risk stocks and with the market so uncertain. I find that

extremely difficult to believe.

Father was neither a gambler nor a fool.

Perhaps he didn't know your father as well as you thought, Beatrice.

The bank account I opened for you will now, of course, have to be closed.

What are we going to do?

How will we manage?

It would be unwise to make any decisions until the dust has settled.

The situation is obviously grave.

But rest assured, Evangeline, as your only male relative and as your legal

guardian... What did you say?

My guardian?

Oh, didn't I explain?

Your father's will entrusts you to my care until you come of age.

She's my closest relative and she's always looked after me. On the domestic

front, yes, and an excellent job she's made of it.

But when it comes to the more crucial matters of life... I was not deemed good

enough.

Experienced.

A young woman like Evangeline needs a man to protect her interests.

As father protected them.

All the time he must have known and he didn't even warn us. Perhaps he didn't

realize how much of the money had gone.

But that seemed just too ashamed to tell us. Oh, for

heaven's sake, Evie.

We can't afford to throw away money now.

I'm sorry.

I didn't think.

Oh, to hell.

Come on.

We'll have our tea at Gunter's.

Perhaps we should ask the waitress to put our tea onto one of their bills.

I don't suppose they'd notice.

Are you sure we have enough, Bea?

Provided we don't have another of these when we walk home.

I still can't take it in.

What will actually mean? We promised not to talk about it.

Not now.

Look at that woman who's just come in.

The one with the hat like a chamber pot.

No, her friends look like a cotton flow.

She can't help the way she's shaped.

Well, she doesn't have to accentuate it like that.

Oh, nothing less fitted.

With this pull -by.

I think it would look so much better.

Like this one.

Yes.

Perhaps a little...

To give it panache.

Brilliant.

We sent it over to her. With compliments of the Elliot sisters.

Order's welcome.

I suppose there's no point in dreaming anymore.

But obviously I have to help them.

You mean give them money?

They are my cousins, Mother.

Cousins once removed.

Perhaps that's more than that. No, Arthur.

Start along that path, they've no knowing where it might end.

I suppose if the worst comes to the worst, they may have to sell the house.

I doubt we'd find a buyer.

It is a bit of a white elephant.

It has awkward thighs.

Unfashionable area.

And without electricity.

I do try to persuade Uncle Henry to have it installed.

At least that would have been a safe investment.

Of course, Evangeline will marry.

She's young and pretty.

And malleable.

But as for Beatrice... Not a hope.

Apart from everything else, she had such a disconcerting manner.

She had to grow up too quickly.

She was always unstable, even as a small child.

She threw one of my lead soldiers out of the window.

Surely you don't hold that against her still.

It spoilt my collection.

Mind you, she did keep house for her father most efficiently.

Anyone who could manage on what he gave her must score some points.

I have it.

Of course.

Why didn't I think of it before?

Paying guests?

Handpicked by Aunt Lydia, of course. She even had some suitable people in mind.

Some frightful old men from Singapore.

What on earth did you say to her?

I told her that even without money, we fully intended to make some sort of life

for ourselves.

And that our being skivvies for paying guests would be unlikely to contribute

much to that life.

A very lady Astor.

I also told her we fully intended to look for work.

And that was when Arthur came to the telephone and started to pontificate

about... What's the matter?

This is cashmere.

Cashmere.

Oh, you're right.

I didn't know Father owned anything like this. Nor did I.

Must have cut the earth.

Where did you find it?

In the dressing room cupboard, with the suitcase.

It's silk.

All of them.

No.

So all his money didn't go on high -risk stocks.

What do you suppose he wore them?

On his trips to Bournemouth, I suppose.

No wonder he never let me pack for him.

They were just stuffy old medical conferences.

Not as stuffy as all that. He obviously found some time for pleasure.

Imagine Father in need.

He must have looked quite a dandy.

So much for his lectures on thrift.

I like to think of him having a good time every now and then.

I wouldn't grudge him that, Evie, if he'd ever given us anything to spend on

clothes. They're forcing us to make everything out of cheap remnants and

improvised hats.

Oh, but it was such fun making them, wasn't it? Yes, Evie, but that is not

point.

May we keep these?

And the dress shirts.

We could do something with them.

We needn't all go to charity, need we?

No. From now on, charity begins at home.

Molly, I think it is time we had a talk.

Is it about new ages?

Or lack of them?

You are aware of the situation Father has left us in?

Don't you think? I'll call it.

Evangeline and I fully intend to look for work ourselves.

I hope it won't be too long before we find something.

In the meantime, we will pay you as much as we can. Don't you worry, Miss B.

I've been thinking.

Perhaps I could take him watching. Then you won't have to pay me nothing till

you've got yourself picked up.

Can you please tell us which of these papers have advertisements for jobs?

Chauffeur.

Chauffeur. Footman.

Chauffeur. A lot of people must be buying cars.

Secretary. Lawyer's office.

Oh, no. Male.

Secretary. Female.

Shorthand and typing essential.

That's no good.

Plenty of nannies, but they all insist on experience.

If you think plenty of experience, look after me.

Oh, I doubt your recommendation would count. Besides, one would have to live

There isn't much work at all these days.

Now the men are back, it's mostly for them.

Or for people with qualifications, like assistant to laboratory technician.

Our education wasn't quite up to that.

Or translator for firm of publishers, French, Spanish, all that.

We equipped us for nothing.

Nothing at all.

We'll have to, and soon.

The tradesmen won't let us have things on tick indefinitely.

Manicure is required for gentlemen's barbershop.

Perhaps I could do that.

Evie!

Can you see Aunt Lydia's face?

There it is.

Frank's sister Pearl spotted it. The one who works at Marshall and Snellgrove.

The Danielly Academy requires young ladies as dancing partners.

You could do that, Miss Evie.

Do you think so?

You're young and a lady.

I hope there's only a very superior type of person at Danielly.

But I've only ever danced with Bea.

Just refrain with a real man.

In fact, there's less to get in the way.

That was only the waltz and polka.

They'd expect you to know all the latest dances, wouldn't they? The foxtrot. And

the jog trot and the twinkle.

I've never even heard of those.

Don't you worry.

I can teach you.

Frank and me are demons.

On loan from Pearl.

The original Dixieland jazz band.

Head up, Miss Evie.

That's it. You've got it.

Have I, haven't I?

Now, we do the next bit we practice. Do you remember?

No, show me. Watch.

Do you remember now?

Come on, then, we'll do it together.

Go.

Oh, now, come on, Miss Evie, hand up.

And head round.

Now, and kick.

And again.

Woo!

It won't be like this with a man, though, will it? Oh, if you're quite

you'll have no problem.

Woo! See, it's quite good fun when you get the hang of it.

There, you picked it up in no time.

You're a natural -born Pavlovia.

Well, I don't know about that.

But it might be worth going to, Mr. Danielli.

Don't help me, though.

If I do get the job, I want it to come as a complete surprise.

What sort of job is it?

A tailor -made.

You remember the Spencer Ewells?

No, why should you?

General Spencer Ewell was a patient of your Uncle Richard's.

Arthur and I dined with them the other evening.

And the general mentioned in passing that his elderly mother, who lives in

Belgravia, is looking for a gay companion.

Someone reliable and from a sound background.

I said at once, I know the very person.

but I found the job. Where?

At Daniele's Dancing Academy.

Where? At Daniele's Dancing Academy.

Doing what?

Dancing.

I was chosen from five other girls and I had to do the tango.

Well, say something.

Aren't you pleased?

Well, yes.

But it isn't up to me, is it?

Absolutely out of the question, Evangeline.

What sort of reputation do you think we get?

A dancing partner at Dan Helix.

But it's a very respectable dancing academy.

There is no such thing as them utter cabs use those places.

What on earth are you thinking of?

Of earning some money.

It was Beatrice I blame. It wasn't Bea's fault.

She didn't even know I was going for the interview.

I wanted to surprise her.

It is just as well that Uncle Henry made you my ward.

The world is full of dangers for pretty young creatures like you.

I can see that I'm going to have to keep a very strict eye on you.

So, no more of this nonsense about Daniele's place.

I told Mr. Daniele I would be starting on Monday.

I'll have my clerk draw up a letter informing him that you will not, after

be available.

You will make no further contact with the place yourself. Is that understood?

I have no choice, have I?

How are you getting home?

By bus.

I take it Beatrice will be meeting you? No.

She's gone to see Mrs. Spencer -Yall.

Oh, yes.

Well, then you'd better take a taxi cab. We can't have you travelling alone in

public transport, can we?

Oh, and, um... Before we get into the taxi...

Be absolutely certain to check that it has a door handle on the inside as well

as the outside.

Some, I'm told, have not.

White slave traffic.

Yes, madam. I am Beatrice Elliot.

I have an appointment with Mrs. Spencer -Yule.

Will you please come in? Thank you.

Am I supposed to know you?

No.

I... Good.

I can never be sure these days.

I've come about the post of day, companion.

Oh.

Yes?

Your son, the general, is a friend of my aunt.

Algy interfering again.

He thinks I'm going batty.

Well, sit down.

Let me have a look at you.

Well, at least you're a sensible age.

Won't be making cow's eyes at the footman.

Don't worry.

Can I help?

Oh, yes, please, miss.

Just get her home.

It was my aunt,

Lady Lydia Elliot, who recommended me to your son.

Lydia? Oh, yes, I remember her.

Pretty little creature.

Below the pale.

Wasn't her father in trade?

I have never heard anything about Aunt Lydia's parents.

I'm not surprised.

Still, a dash of yeoman blood never harmed any family.

You have good bones.

Thank you.

Like that little girl.

Extraordinary looking creature.

Nearly end.

That's the good of you, miss.

I'm just glad I was dead now.

I told her she shall go out.

She'll never say it before, Daisy.

Charlie! Bye, Mum, let's take a bath. Go and fetch Billy.

I'm all right.

Miss Maddox, Miss Maddox!

What's going on?

I'm all right.

She just collapsed in the stream.

Oh, poor old thing.

I said they could never have allowed her out of the hospital. It's a disgrace.

I shall take her down. This lady here will respect.

You know, Penelope Maddox from the local mission.

That's right, Tilly. Let's get her inside.

I bought some milk and provisions.

And there are some baby clothes in my basket. Do you mind getting them?

Come on, Mrs. Miller. Are you good at reading aloud, Miss Urquhart?

Elliot.

That is what I said.

Are you through to my sister when she was small?

Not, I imagine, Ethel M. Dill.

No.

What would my other duties be, Mrs. Spencer, your?

Hmm?

Duties?

Helping me through the maze my mind has become.

Picking up objects when I drop them.

Pushing me about in my bath chair when the weather allows.

Putting up with my continual complaint.

If you can do all that, the job is yours.

But if I were you, I wouldn't touch it with a barge pole.

Need the money, I suppose.

Yes.

Well, think it over.

Let me know by the end of the week.

And do not say yes unless you are prepared to see me out.

I hadn't realised it would look like that.

Thousands of them.

Slum clearance will take the kingdom come.

All those children.

She's had two in the last 18 months, as well as a miscarriage.

War was a rest cure for women like her.

It seems so dreadful when they can't afford to feed or clothe them.

Marie's right, of course.

Birth control's the only answer.

She's hoping to open a clinic next year.

Well, that's if the God -bothering bigots don't clap her own hands first.

Her name, Marie Stokes, is like a red rag to them.

Do you know Marie Stokes?

She's an old family friend. My parents met her in Japan, studying fossil.

Have you read her book?

Married love?

No.

Well, don't you dare get spiced until you have.

I'll lend it to you, if you like.

What did you say her name was? Penelope Madden.

You are a pro -messing that halts poor people.

And the campaign for votes for women.

Oh, no, my, no.

And Lady Rhonda, and Sidney Webb, and...

She's coming for tea tomorrow.

Well, you said we needed a social circle.

So, crux of the matter is, you're on your opposite.

Well, as a matter of fact, I have been offered a post.

A day companion to some aged invalid.

Oh, well, you mustn't do that.

That's what I said.

Well, if anyone has any better suggestions, beggars can't be choosers.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I know decent jobs aren't easily come by.

Especially when you've had no education.

And have a guardian like Arthur.

Of course, I can afford to do the work I want to, unpaid. One tends to take it

for granted sometimes.

But there must be something for you, Beatrice. You don't mind if I call you

Beatrice. What can you do?

Not much.

Well, nonsense.

You must be able to do heaps of things.

She's a marvellous dressmaker.

Oh.

Well, what did you do in the war?

Were you a nurse? You're a doctor's daughter.

I did nothing.

Of course you did, Bea.

She looked after Father and me.

And helped run the house. And knitted about a million balaclavas.

Well, the boys are damn glad of them, I can tell you. It was freezing out there

at the front.

Were you out there, Penelope?

For a while.

What did you do?

I drove an ambulance.

How exciting.

Or was it dreadful?

Both.

Have you read those new poems by Wilfred Owen?

No. Well, you must.

They ought to be compulsory reading. We must never let another war happen.

We don't have money to spend on books.

Well, never mind. I'll lend it to you if you like, along with the Murray Stokes

one and anything else you want to borrow.

And I'll keep a lookout for jobs, too.

Thank you.

What a friend for.

Bea, I'm just going to bed now, sir.

What are you doing?

Trying to work out how much these will fetch.

But, Bea, that's one of the jewels. You can't sell those.

The trade won't wait forever, Evie.

Even if I take the job that Mrs. Spencer yields, I won't be paid at once.

Oh, but, Bea.

I know how much you treasure these.

I can't afford to be sentimental.

This is gold. It should fetch a few pounds.

It's beautiful.

Did father give it to her?

Father? When did he ever give her anything worth having?

Grandfather gave it to her on her 17th birthday.

You cannot sell that bee.

Have you any better ideas?

Well, Penelope may come up with something.

I wouldn't rely on it.

Besides, we need the money now.

Tomorrow I have to do the rounds and I must pay something on account.

I'm sure if you asked the Trayton, they would understand. No, Levy.

Not again.

I cannot ask for any more favors.

Too humiliating.

I can't tell you how grateful I am, Mr. Cooper.

I assure you the rest will be paid by the end of the month.

Thank you.

I bought you those books, I promised.

Marvellous. Oh, and I think I may have found you a job, too, with my brother

Jack, photographer.

Jack Maddox is your brother?

The one who takes society photographs?

He's good with the old biddy, but he is totally disorganised.

What will I have to do?

General Dog's body.

Oh, and put up with his moods.

Moods? He's an only son.

Spoilt rotten.

Love him dearly, then. And you'll have to meet him, of course, if you pass

master. So tomorrow morning, 11 o 'clock.

There's the address.

Thank you.

Wouldn't it be marvellous if I got this job?

We could pay off a tradesman, and you could say no thank you to Mrs Spencer

-Ewell. Now, let's not jump the gun, Evie. Even if you do get the job, you

need Arthur.

He can't not approve.

Jack Maddox has had photographs of him cream.

Number 24, did you say?

Yes.

This must be it.

Mr. Maddox?

Good morning.

Who the devil are you?

Our name is Elliot.

Penelope arranged an appointment for my sister.

Evangeline Elliot.

A splendidly alliterative.

And you're here to chaperone her, of course.

Very wise of you.

Far too delectable to be let loose on her own.

Champagne? No, thank you.

Suit yourself.

Ta -da.

So, your chums are Penelopes, eh?

She thinks I need a factotum. Always organising people, old pen.

Darving horde, wayward brothers.

So tell me, what can you do, Evangeline Elliot?

Well, I'm... She used to help our father in the reception.

By our father, I take it you do not mean the deity?

No. He was a doctor.

So you could make appointments reliably?

I think so.

Think or know? No.

Can you type?

With two fingers. She had extremely neat handwriting.

Confident on the telephone?

Yes, she is.

Do you know anything about cameras?

I'm afraid not.

Few people do.

Are you any good at telling lies?

Well, I've not really had much practice. My victim was not brought up to tell

lies, Mr Maddox. Pity.

The ability to lie is essential to the job.

Let me show you.

You see, the women who come to me to have their portrait taken are of a

age.

This is how they look.

And this is how they would like to look.

I performed the miracle.

I've become very successful and made a lot of women happy with a few lies.

As my receptionist, you'd have to back up these lies.

They'll ask you, well, is it a true likeness?

And you will have to convince them that it is without so much as murmuring the

word retouch.

Well, that would only count as white lies, surely.

That's driven snow.

So, to sum up, on the plus side, you can type

with two fingers, you can make appointments, answer the telephone.

And on the minus side... You drive away all my old

trouts and I'd be bankrupt within a year.

I'm much too young and much too pretty for the job of Angeline.

You'd do that.

You must be mad, Bea.

I would have given anything for that job. Nothing on earth would induce me to

work for that odious man.

I liked him.

That was obvious.

I suppose it's because he's related to Penelope. You don't like her either, do

you? Oh, shh. Well, if you'd rather work for Mrs. Spencer -Yule... At least I

shall know where I am with her.

But don't you see?

That's the wonderful thing about Jack Maddox.

Working for him would never, ever be done.

Molly, can you... Do you remember when you first met Frank?

Oh, I should do. It's only three months ago.

Did you lose your appetite?

No.

Did you lie awake at night?

No.

Go jelly -kneed whenever you thought of him?

Glory, no.

Isn't love what falling in love is like? Sounds more like the flu to me.

Anyway, me and Frank weren't never what you call lovebirds.

With two million surplus women, a girl's lucky if she can nab a man at all.

Last for those that can afford it.

Who do we know with a son that's going a -begging?

For Evangeline.

Now that Beatrice has a position, we must think about her sister.

I suppose it'll have to be a younger son.

What about Dick Hindlesham's brother?

Four chaps for nearly three.

Bell shock.

A soothing young wife may be just what he needs.

You see life in such simplistic terms, mother.

Marriage tells everything.

The right marriage.

That reminds me, Arthur, the Winthrops are back from Berets. Oh, mother.

I know Agatha is no oil painting, but she's so well connected.

You make her sound like an electric lamp.

She's certainly taken a shine to you.

When I decide to marry, I shall make my own choice.

That is what I'm afraid of.

As father did.

And he couldn't have made a better choice, could he?

All the same, one does not climb the social ladder in order to slide down it

again.

I hear the Pettinger girl has turned out quite well.

Perhaps we should invite her to the theatre.

Mother, would you please confine your matchmaking talents elsewhere?

If only there wasn't such a shortage of men.

The war has a lot to answer for.

And it isn't as if poor Evangeline had any social graces.

When did Henry ever entertain?

Not at home, certainly.

Arthur, this is Beatrice.

I would like to make an appointment to come and see you.

As soon as possible.

A family matter.

Ah, Beatrice.

All right, keep you.

I can spare you 15 minutes.

How do I help? By telling me the truth about father's money.

I'm sorry?

I don't believe he lost it all through careless investments.

I'm not sure what you're suggesting.

I think you've been covering up for him.

Was there a woman?

Have you quite taken leave of your senses?

Uncle Henry was a pillar of society.

What on earth makes you suggest such a thing?

A cupboard full of expensive clothes.

A lace handkerchief.

Please tell me. I have a right to know.

I'd hope that you and Evangeline need never find out.

Evangeline need not, which is why I'm here on my own. Or Mother.

It would kill her.

Then he did have a misadventure.

There were a series of, shall we say, liaisons going back over many years,

you were a small child.

What? They were all, of course, made of a certain standard.

Do you mean he was whoring while Mother was still alive?

Fortunately, he was discreet. A dirty, lying hypocrite. Yes, let's speak.

Wasn't it enough that he killed her?

Yes, he did, forcing her to go on trying for a son year after year when he knew

it wasn't safe.

Keep your voice down. People will hear. Good, I want them to hear.

To hear how the upright Dr Elliot betrayed mother and ruined my life as

God, how he made me work as an unpaid housekeeper and nanny because he was too

mean to pay anybody else. Pull yourself together. How he deprived me of a decent

education and the only hope I ever had of marriage.

Oh, he stopped Evie and I doing all the things that make life worthwhile.

And all the time he was off fornicating with a string of whores.

Beatrice!

It's only natural that you should feel a little bitter.

A little bitter?

But you might be sensible.

Put all that behind you now and look at the future.

You have the offer of an excellent post.

Waiting on Mrs Spencer Yule to the last remnant of my youth was gone.

If I don't start, you would be offered a better post.

Well, as a matter of fact, I have.

With the photographer Jack Maddox.

And what's more, I intend to take it.

Thank you.

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