Original subtitles

I'm not prepared to compromise on the price of the lower bed.

I would like access to the pit at any time.

Neither of these requests are unreasonable.

Only someone with something to hide would think they were.

You tell your men to leave that road alone. It's my land.

I don't care what your arrangement is with Rawson.

He no longer seems to fear that you'll sink your own pit.

That isn't an option anymore.

But not for the reason he thinks.

No! No!

Ann, what is it?

Do you hear them?

Has anyone written to Ann's sister?

With the right sort of help,

she may be able to make a full recovery.

We should persuade her to come up here,

where we can look after her.

If I go to Scotland, I'll never see you again.

Look after yourself.

I'm afraid it may all be off between me and Ms. Walker.

It's a shame because I have become rather more fond of her

than I ever imagined I would.

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- Joseph?

- Ah.

Thomas Beech, ma'am. How do you do?

I'm Miss Lister's new groom.

- York, initially,

to collect my carriage from the Norcliffes,

and then on to London, via Leamington,

with Mrs. Lawton.

Then across the water to Paris

and then either south and a ramble in the Auvergne

and on to Rome,

or north, to Copenhagen, St. Petersburg, Moscow.

I haven't decided yet.

- That's, uh-- that all sounds very--

- Good, so you need to see Mr. Lowe in Halifax

to be measured up.

I shall provide two waistcoats,

two jackets, two pairs of trousers,

one overcoat, one pair of boots, a hat.

Go back into the kitchen,

get some breakfast,

and tell Mrs. Cordingley if anyone's heading

into Halifax this morning, they're to take you with them.

- I'm going into Halifax this morning.

- Ah, there you go, Thomas.

My sister will sort you out.

- Thank you. Thank you, ma'am.

- What a lovely face.

- Hmm?

- Your new groom.

- Oh.

- You all right?

- I'm always all right.

- It's only me.

- Yes? - Thomas Sowden to see you.

- Show him in.

- He's in his Sunday best.

- Is he?

Can you not bang like that in the future on that door?

I've smudged.

- Sorry.

- Show him in.

- Come in, then.

- Mr. Washington. - Ah, morning, Sowden.

- Pa's drawing a new map of the Shibden Hall estate

for Miss Lister before she goes off on her travels.

- There's you, Upper Southolm.

- Oh, what's all these?

- Now that, Thomas, is the manor.

It's the underground roads and tunnels

that form the old Shibden pits.

- God, it's perfect.

- Well, it was, till very recently.

What can I do for you, lad?

- It's delicate.

- Oh, that's all right.

We're very discreet here. What's on your mind?

- Aren't you supposed to be in kitchen with your mother?

- Go on!

Well, lad, what is it?

- I'd like to ask you

for your Suzannah's hand in marriage.

- Thomas Sowden in his Sunday best,

come to see Pa.

- Sunday best? Why?

- When have you met her?

- Uh, when you sent her and Eliza over to us

with that message,

about two months since,

for Miss Lister,

about the tenancy.

- So-- - We're very fond of each other.

- So you haven't-- haven't known each other

more than five minutes then.

What's going on?

- Have you-- have you asked her?

- Well, I said I'd have to talk to you first, but...

yes.

Look, you're very young, both of you.

- She's 16. I'm 18 now.

- Look, Thomas, you--

you're a very impressive young man.

The way you've turned that farm around

has astonished me,

and I know Miss Lister's happy with you--

- It was Miss Lister suggested it.

- Miss Lister?

- She said she prefers her tenants wed.

She says it makes them better settled.

- Anne?

- I just went into the bank. Is it--

Is it true that you have given Mr. Rawson

the deeds to Shibden as security

against a �2,000 credit note from his bank?

- Who told you that?

- Is it true?

- No, Marian, it is not true.

- Well, then why did he say it?

- Who? - Mr. Rawson!

Come in here.

Now you tell me exactly what he said.

- Just that!

That he had the deeds to Shibden there

at the bank in his vault.

- The deeds to Shibden are in this house,

where they've always been.

They're in this room, in fact.

I can show them to you if you like.

How--how did this conversation start?

- He just came out of his office

and he made straight for me,

and then he just started saying things.

- Why would he tell you that?

How inappropriate to tell you something like that,

even if it was true-- especially if it was true.

- So just to be clear,

it isn't?

I had visions of you swanning off

to Paris and Rome and Moscow

and the whole house sold from under us.

- I know you don't always think the best of me, Marian,

but I hope you know I wouldn't do that.

Are you crying?

He made a lewd comment about Mr. Abbott,

who, apparently, is now engaged

to Miss Greenwood of Field House in Sowerby.

He said she obviously came with a bigger dowry than I did.

- In front of people?

He said that in front of people at the bank?

- He said he'd offer to marry me himself,

but only to get his hands on all our coal.

He's trying to find out how the estate was left.

- What?

- He wants to know how much I'm worth,

because he's still frightened of me.

What did you tell him?

- Nothing!

I left as quickly as I could,

and I never want to go into that bank ever again!

Mr. and Mrs. Saltmarsh were there, all his staff.

It was excruciating!

- He should never have spoken to you like that.

This is between me and him.

Marian, I'm sorry-- - Somebody should do something.

Somebody should say something.

He's a magistrate, for heaven's sake.

Surely he should know better than to behave like that.

Oh, there's your thing.

- He's still at it.

He's still stealing your coal.

That's what this is about.

He's fishing for information

because he's frightened that you may yet have the money

to sink a pit and find him out.

- Is it entirely out of the question now, ma'am?

Sinking your own pit?

- I had the promise of a substantial investment

from a...third party, which I no longer have,

and without it, I'd have to risk everything,

my entire income,

and if anything went wrong

during the construction, if it collapsed or flooded,

I could end up having to sell part of the estate,

which is...unthinkable.

- Let me and Mr. Holt

have another look at the figures, ma'am.

Based on the bid the Mann brothers have proposed,

let's see if there's anything we've missed,

or any costs we can squeeze.

- I'd still be the one taking all the financial risk,

whatever price it was brought in at.

- When are you back from picking up

your carriage in York ma'am?

- Friday.

- Let the postilion bate his horses.

Tell him I want it back here by 4:00

ready to set off back to Leeds.

- Yes, ma'am.

- I wanted to thank you for your great kindness

over Miss Walker before I go off traveling.

- I was happy to help.

- I did advise her to write to you

if she felt the necessity of doing so

and not to hesitate.

I wondered if...

She and I have agreed

not to write to one another, so...

if she did happen to write to you,

I wondered if you could let me know,

wherever I am in the world, just...

if she needed any help,

or if there was any matter

in which I could be useful to her.

- There was a letter

two weeks ago, from her sister,

saying that Miss Walker was worried

it was too cold for her in Inverness,

and did I have an opinion.

Well, I advised good nutrition

and giving the place a fair trial,

but it seems they sought no medical advice

as they passed through Edinburgh.

Captain Sutherland thought she was "much improved,"

and that it was unnecessary.

- And no mention of her hearing things at night?

- No.

- And the religious obsession?

- The letter was brief.

- You know her in-laws want her for some of the kin,

if they can get her, to pay off their debts.

Captain Sutherland's mother spoke quite openly about it.

- I only met Miss Walker briefly,

but I got the idea she has rather more backbone

than most people credit her with.

So when do you travel to Leamington?

- Next week. Thursday, probably.

A few loose ends to tie up at home, and then...off.

- Well, my sister will be delighted to see you, I'm sure.

- You know, I often think

if Mariana and I ever did get together

after all our trials,

finally, the world might make sense.

- Hasn't too much water passed under the bridge for that?

- Is there a cure for the way Miss Walker is?

- For people afflicted with nervous disorders,

it's usually more about living with it than curing it,

but with time and patient management,

she could live a normal enough life,

but it does require...

kindness.

Love.

- Whoa!

- I'm wondering whether Rawson was drunk

when he said that to Marian.

At 10:00 in the morning?

- I hear he often is drunk

when he's presiding over the bench.

- How disgusting.

What a sorry town that makes us,

having a man like that in charge

of so many of its institutions.

- Did you get the idea he was drunk?

- It didn't occur to me at the time,

but looking back, yes,

he had an odd kind of ebullience about him.

- I'm going to invite him here.

Why?

- To hear him apologize, first of all,

and then I can't have him stealing my coal.

- Our coal.

- And certainly not when I'm not here to manage it.

- He'd not come. - Mm. He will.

If he can play dirtily, then so can I.

- Stay.

She eats dogs, this one.

All right, where is she?

- She's, uh--sir.

Excuse me. Excuse--Mr. Rawson.

- Well, Anne.

Oh, hello.

That was a nice trick you played,

going to see my mother

and telling her all those lies about me.

- Mm, nearly as nice a trick as you getting that thug

to try and beat the living daylights out of me,

but hey-ho.

- Don't know what you're talking about.

- It didn't work, by the way.

He ran off limping, clutching the old family jewels.

I think he was crying in the end.

Might be an idea

for you to employ more than one of them next time,

perhaps three or four.

Would you like a glass of Madeira?

- Perhaps a small one.

- Not for me.

- Why did you tell Marian

that you held the deeds to Shibden?

- Oh, Anne.

- You alarmed her. You upset her.

I'm fair game.

You can try the mettle I'm made of any time you like.

Feel free,

but do not humiliate my sister.

- Oh, she's a great-- you're a--

she's a great thick-head.

I was only teasing her.

I didn't think she'd take it seriously.

- She was embarrassed. She was angry.

Whereas I, on the other hand,

was only intrigued as to why it was said.

- Yes, as was I by the rubbish

you told my mother, who seems to labor

under the delusion that everything that comes out

of your mouth is gospel.

- She likes me.

She always has done.

I didn't tell your mother anything that isn't true.

- Nothing you told my mother is true.

- You humiliated my sister in front of a number of people,

the Saltmarshes,

all of your staff at the bank,

you tried to have me beaten up in the middle of nowhere,

and you were seen driving that gig

when the Hardcastle boy lost his leg.

- And this is why I'm here.

If you continue to make these allegations

to my mother or to anyone else,

there will be repercussions.

- And then, you offer to marry Marian,

but only to get your hands on my coal.

Do you remember saying that?

- Vaguely.

- Vaguely. Hmm.

It strikes me, Mr. Rawson--

it struck me when Marian told me--

that despite that underhanded stunt

you pulled up at Willy Hill pit--

- Oh, I was calling the pit in. It's exhausted.

There's nothing underhanded about that--

- Despite that,

you're still anxious about how much I'm worth,

and what I might do next.

- Oh, do you think? - Mm, and then I realized--

- Oh, that's very good. No, that's very funny.

Keep talking.

- And then I realized the reason you're still anxious

and mouthing off and wanting to know so much

must be because you are still, still,

stealing my coal.

Now, then, I have bent over backwards

to avoid accusing you of this outright,

because I considered it beneath your dignity,

as well as my own.

I had hoped we could come to an arrangement

whereby you would pay me for it fairly--

- Your price, madam, was ridiculous.

- My price reflected what you had stolen.

It offered you the opportunity to make legal

your illegal trespass,

but you elected instead to continue to deny it

and to continue to steal my coal from under me.

Own it, Mr. Rawson.

Own it, and let us do a fair deal.

- Anne--Miss Lister, whatever...

I am not, nor have I ever,

nor would I steal your coal.

- Your men were heard

in my upper bed by Hinscliffe's men.

- Oh, men in your bed. Well, there's a novelty.

I suppose it's occurred to you that Hinscliffe would say that

because he knows it's what you want to hear.

Help yourself.

You said you vaguely remember saying that

to Marian the other day,

so you are owning that that happened.

- Yes, vaguely.

- Vaguely?

- Vaguely, yes.

- Were you drunk?

It was four days ago and 10:00 in the morning.

That shouldn't be a vague memory.

That should be a crystal clear one.

- I was being funny.

Course I remember it.

- Mm-mm, well, we think you were drunk,

and perhaps you were drunk when you were driving that gig

when Henry Hardcastle lost his leg,

the same gig that you sent back to the manufacturer

a week later in Liverpool,

because you suddenly decided you didn't like it,

and perhaps you were drunk

when you paid Mark Robinson to beat me up.

Mm, I bothered to find out who he is.

And being drunk doesn't excuse any of these things.

It certainly doesn't excuse

a seven-year-old boy losing his leg,

but it does explain them.

But when you systematically, day after day,

week after week, month after month,

year after year, steal my coal,

that is not drunk.

That is not the rogue decision of a stupefied moment.

That is a very definite decision

between you and your brother to steal.

- I am not stealing your coal, madam,

and I'm warning you again,

if you continue to make these bizarre

and very serious allegations, there will be--

- Yes, there will be repercussions.

Well, if these repercussions

are to bring me up in front of the bench,

then please do, the sooner the better,

and then we can interrogate these facts in public.

- All right.

Let's talk about your coal, hmm?

Let's be clear.

I would have liked to have done a deal with you,

because it would have saved me a great deal of trouble.

There's a great sweep of coal this way

which can be very easily got and make us both rich,

but since it's become apparent that you are so ridiculous

and impossible and stubborn and inept--

I'm sorry, but there it is-- in matters of business,

I have elected to turn my works

the other way entirely.

Not so easily got,

and requiring a steam engine to keep the works drained,

so more expensive and more inconvenient altogether,

but there it is.

I have more than enough coal of my own, madam,

believe you me.

I was only interested in yours

to delay the cost of putting up that engine,

but, as it's in progress,

that's the way my works will go.

The decision's been made.

So I can only repeat

that nobody that I know of

is stealing your coal.

- There are a number of small economies

we've identified.

Robert Mann says he could come down

to 23 shillings a yard

for the actual pit sinking itself

and the only other thing he suggested,

which doesn't help your outlay,

but if you worked two shifts,

night and day,

he could have the pit sunk

within 12 months instead of 24,

and that way, you'd see your profits come in sooner.

- The risk's the same, financially.

- Well, yes, and there would be more outlay up front, but...

- It's risky.

Not here to manage it yourself?

Are you committed to traveling?

- I need to get away for a while.

As galling as this idiotic business is,

part of me just wants to run off and forget about it.

- That's not like you.

- You might be surprised.

There are other things to do in the world.

The only alternative I can think of is...

Could you...

- What?

- Secure me a loan?

I need the best part of �1,500

to get this thing sunk in a year.

My father offered to loan me �450 a few months ago,

but I don't want to complicate matters.

He'd want to interfere, and I don't want that.

- What security could you offer on such a loan?

- The--

The deeds to Shibden.

- Yeah. - Watch the step.

- I'm going to leave Leamington on the first or the second,

and be in London no later than Wednesday.

You can write to me there

at 26 Dover Street, Haymarket,

care of Mr. Hawkins.

We'll be there until the 17th

and aim to be in Paris a week later.

I'm planning to stay at the Hotel de Terrasse

on the Rue de Rivoli,

but I'll confirm that nearer the time.

- I'm all right.

- And then from Paris, who knows?

But you'll always know where I am.

Wherever I go in the world,

you'll always have an address for me, and I--

I'll come back at a moment's notice

if there's any anxiety at all about anyone's health.

- I know, I know.

I know that.

- Marian,

go and put this in the bureau in my uncle's study,

and then you'll both know where it is.

Go on, now, and then it's done.

I want you to do something for me while I'm away, Aunt.

I'd like you to write a note

every so often

to Miss Walker's aunt at Cliffhill,

and then to let me know

if she's had any news about Miss Walker

about her health and so forth.

Could you do that for me?

Would you mind?

- Yes, of course,

if it's what you want.

- You mustn't be cross,

if I did have to call you back

on account of Aunt Anne's health.

I wouldn't do it lightly,

you know that, but she is...old.

- I want you to do something for me.

Thomas Sowden, over at Upper Southolm Farm,

has proposed to Washington's eldest girl, Suzannah.

Mrs. Washington isn't for it, at all.

She thinks the Sowdens are beneath her.

He's for it--Washington.

He can see how bright Thomas is

and how likely he is to do well for himself,

and it's better for us if our tenants are settled,

so perhaps you could take Father,

pay a house call over at Fenny Royd,

and tell her that just occasionally,

someone is born with a nobility of character

that belies their lowly birth,

and that's how we feel about Thomas.

- Certainly.

- Take care of yourself.

- And you.

- I'm off.

Don't get up.

Well, take care of yourself.

And just so you know,

I am going to sink a pit up above Conery Wood.

- When? - Now.

They're starting next week.

Washington and Holt will oversee it,

and we've engaged Robert and Joseph

and John Mann to do the work,

but nobody else knows about it,

just them and their men.

I want this whole operation as covert as it can be.

And if Christopher Rawson

never finds out about it till we're down there,

then all the better.

- How will you pay for it?

- It's all taken care of.

It's tight,

but it's manageable, and if all goes to plan,

we could be getting the coal within a year.

- Shouldn't you be here to manage it?

- Me not being here is the perfect cover.

How can I be up to something if I'm not even here?

Now, you might get wind of a few comings and goings

from time to time, up on the hill,

but don't worry about it.

Washington knows what's going on.

- I hope you know what you're doing.

I've told you before,

it's an unpleasant business, coal.

- For the journey.

There's some bread and cheese and tongue and apples

and a couple of bottles of beer.

- It doesn't matter what she tries on.

He just isn't interested in her, is he?

- Well, I may have been indiscreet.

I may have told him a cautionary little tale

about her indiscretion with his predecessor.

- In.

- Giddy-up.

- No, no, no. - Please, Mama.

- No, we're not going outside.

I need to talk to Aunt Ann. Come on.

Come on.

Fine, please yourself.

Captain Sutherland has invited his cousin,

Sir Alexander Mackenzie--

Sackville!

Sackville, darling, please take that outside.

I'm trying to talk to Aunt Ann.

Good boy.

Yes, he's invited Sir Alexander Mackenzie

and his mother to us for dinner next week,

Wednesday.

Now, I-I know it might be

a bit awkward because of before,

but you are not to imagine that there are

any hidden intentions behind it,

because there aren't.

It's just-- it's a family gathering.

All right? - I might stay upstairs.

- Captain Sutherland won't like that.

- Right.

- It's all right, isn't it? You'll--

You'll be all right with that.

Mama!

- Well, give it--

Let your sister have a little turn.

No, come on, now. - It's mine!

- I don't care! Give it to your sister.

- Oh. - Imb�cile.

- Charles. - Miss Lister.

- You're not leaving? - I am afraid I am, yes.

We've had some, um, news,

but Mariana's through there.

Do--do go through.

- What's happened?

- Oh, thank goodness you're here.

- Ah, my 16-year-old nephew,

my younger brother's boy, died yesterday afternoon.

He'd been involved in an accident the day before,

and then we had a note at 9:30 this morning

to say he passed away.

- Oh, good Lord. Charles, I am so sorry.

- I'm going back up to Cheshire to--

to be with the family.

Mariana isn't.

- What happened?

- He was being shown 'round a factory

with his sister,

and, uh, his sleeve got...

caught in a bone-crushing mill.

- The arm was severed at the shoulder.

Must have bled to death.

That, or the shock.

I'll have to set off now.

- Charles, I really am very sorry.

Give my condolences to your brother and his wife.

- Oh, no, it's just the wife.

His brother passed away two years ago.

- God.

- I'll pass on your condolences, then,

as well, shall I, Mariana?

- Yes, of course.

- Miss Lister. - Charles.

Are you all right?

- He wants me to go with him.

We've only just got here,

and she doesn't like me-- the mother.

It'd only be awkward.

So we've had a big hoo-ha about that.

Anyway, I knew you were coming, so...

I had no idea you and her were so close.

I mean, I suspected something, but...

- To start with, it was neither here nor there.

It was just something to do.

- Hm.

- You know, because she was there, and...

because I was lonely.

I don't know, I--

- So i-it's all off now?

- Mm.

All off.

- Freddy, are you crying?

- No.

- You're still thinking about her, aren't you?

- It's not--

- What?

- It was never one of my grand passions, but...

- Is she very rich?

- Well, yes, but it's--

funnily enough, it's not that.

It might have been to start with, but...

- Well, what, then?

- I just really thought she'd say yes.

- Yes?

- I asked her to marry me,

to move in with me at Shibden,

take the sacrament together.

But Freddy, you're married to me.

- Yes, and then you went

and married Charles all those years ago.

- Seriously?

You asked her to marry you?

What, to exchange rings and alter wills, to move in?

- Well, I hadn't raised the matter of wills yet, but...

- What's the matter?

- All the things we talked about doing.

- Yes, and then you married Charles.

- I had no idea it had got that far between you.

- Yes, well, it did.

- No. - Thank you.

- You're on the back.

Give Mrs. Lawton's servant the up front.

- Ugh.

- I've booked us into the Angel Inn tonight in Oxford.

With a bit of luck, we should be in Dover Street

by Thursday lunchtime.

- You, perhaps, don't fully realize

the implications for me as regards to poor William's--

- Do you think it's going to rain?

Sorry, go on.

- In the event of Charles' death,

it would've been William upon whom I became dependent.

He is--was Charles' heir.

Now, Lord knows, I'll probably end up dependent

upon some distant relative who's never even heard of me,

and who will cut me off at the first opportunity.

- Surely Charles has made adequate provision for you.

- Oh. - Surely.

- I don't think he has.

It'd amaze me if he had,

the things he says to me when we fight,

which is all the time, by the way.

- Well, perhaps you--

- You see, I always thought that--

- What?

- Well, I always thought I was coming to you

when Charles died, and now there you are

planning to move your little Miss Walker in.

- Mary.

I would always do anything for you,

anything in the world, you know that--

but you put an end to us living together last year.

- When? - When I left Hastings.

I called in on you on my way back to Halifax.

I made a beeline for you. I begged you.

I said, "Come on, let's do it now.

Let's gather our rosebuds while we may," and you said no,

that you could never leave Charles.

- How could I leave Charles?

When I did, you sent me back to him.

You and Steph. - That was before.

I'd just inherited Shibden. The timing was too blatant.

- It still happened.

- You said, "No, not now, not ever."

- Yeah, but you were all over the place

because of your Miss Hobart!

I mean, it would have been thoroughly irresponsible of me

to--I didn't say that.

- You did. - I didn't say "not ever."

- You did. - Not!

- You did.

Do you think I'm making it up?

- I think you were distraught.

- Distraught, maybe. Not deaf!

- You're ridiculous. I never said--

Why did you bring that?

- So I know what the temperature is.

Why else? You need to shut up now.

You're bringing back some very poor memories.

- Well, I'm just pointing out-- - Yes, I'm a bit odd!

I like to have my thermometer with me on holiday.

It's not illegal.

So you do want to come live with me at Shibden, mm?

That's what you're saying now.

- Yes.

When Charles dies.

- Oh. Not now.

So what am I supposed to do, just wait yet again,

for this maybe-sometime-never event?

- That's r--

That is what we always said,

when Charles dies,

and now here you are, moving your little Miss Walker in.

Well, not moving Miss Walker in,

but you're planning to.

- Ann.

Believe Elizabeth has told you my cousin,

Sir Alexander Mackenzie, and his mother

are coming to us for dinner next Wednesday.

Hello, Mother.

- Oh, she did, yes.

- I would consider it

a great kindness

if you would, uh, join us

at the table that evening.

- Of course.

- Oh.

Good.

Well, good.

- Are you not speaking to me at all now, then?

I always know when you're sulking.

All you do is write or read.

You should apologize to me

for what you said earlier.

- It's brought back too many memories for that.

- What do you mean?

- Blackstone Edge. - Oh.

- Scarborough, this time ten years ago.

- Right.

Let's talk about Blackstone Edge

and Scarborough.

Do you know what miseries, what agonies,

I went through being seen with you?

The way you used to look, the way you used to dress?

Everyone whispering about you behind your back

about how masculine you were.

I was snubbed, too, just for being seen with you.

I mean, at least nowadays,

you do try to look a little like a lady,

but then, good Lord.

And Blackstone Edge, I was mortified.

I heard the post-boy say, "Is that a man?"

Anne.

- Well, good heavens, I'm surprised

you ever bothered with me at all if that was the case.

- Because I loved you.

I still love you,

more than your Miss Walker ever would have done.

- We are where we are.

We've both made choices. Mm?

We've both made mistakes.

- Let's not hate each other, Mary.

We weathered the storm this far.

We're still friends, aren't we,

despite everything?

- Oh, more than just friends, surely.

No, you and I could never be just friends.

- Come and live with me at Shibden.

I won't go to Paris. I won't go anywhere.

Let's put this nonsense behind us once and forever.

Think about it.

Let's carry on tomorrow to London and...

Think about it.

- I came to say good night.

- Oh, good night.

- You've been all right today.

- Mm, not too bad.

- Mm. Been busy.

Can I look?

- Mm.

- Hmm.

These are good.

Do have an eye.

Thank you, today, at teatime, for--

- I shan't marry him.

If that's the idea, he's wasting his time.

- Yes, I know.

But if you could just...

go along with it.

Let them come to dinner and let's be civil to them,

but nobody is going to make you

agree to anything you don't want.

- I want to go home.

- There's no one there to look after you, Ann.

I assume Miss Lister's set off on her travels by now.

- Have you heard from her?

- No, nothing.

And you'd be in that huge house again all on your own.

You've got me here, at least,

and I won't let them bully you into something you don't want.

I promise.

- You're frightened of him, aren't you?

Captain Sutherland.

- So much more complicated when you've got children,

but I promise, Ann,

I promise I'll look after you.

Night-night.

- Night-night.

- Anne!

- There was a note from Donald waiting for me at my hotel,

so I came straight over.

How are you?

- Sore.

Such a ridiculous thing to do.

So much more sensible

to lay an egg and have done with it.

Anne Louisa.

- Anne, after Donald's mother. He told me.

- Oh, that's what he likes to think.

If she turns out to be brilliant and fascinating

and bursting with energy and ideas,

I'll know who she's got it from,

and it certainly won't be his mother.

Here.

Have a go.

- Oh.

Hmm.

How are you?

How long are you in London?

- Oh, a fortnight or so, depending.

- On?

- Things. - Ah.

- And then to Paris, and after that, who knows?

South, through the Auvergne, and then on to Rome,

or north, to Copenhagen and--

- Oh, you must go to Copenhagen.

My sister--my half-sister, Lady Harriet--

she'd be delighted if you turned up in Copenhagen.

She wouldn't be able to do enough for you.

She's positively gagging for decent company.

Her husband's such an odd little man,

but then he does have

all those handy connections at court.

Who are you traveling with?

- I came up to London with my friend, Mrs. Lawton,

from Lawton Hall in Cheshire,

but she's not... crossing the water with me.

I left her at the hotel almost as soon as we arrived,

so I ought not to stay too long.

Ah.

- How was she?

- Well, very well, and the baby too.

- Two people left their cards for you

almost as soon as you'd gone, and a letter.

- Lady Mexborough and Lady Gordon.

Lady Stuart.

- I thought we might do some shopping this afternoon,

thought we could trundle down Piccadilly--

- She wants me to go to them to dinner at 7:00 tonight.

Uh, yes, of course.

You can help me choose a coffee pot for Vere.

I never got them a wedding present.

- Well, where does she live, this Lady--

- Lady Stuart? Richmond Park.

- Well, then, you'd have to get ready now.

It would take you at least an hour

to drive to Richmond, surely.

- I haven't even unpacked yet.

- Madam...

- But I have, Madame.

- Mary.

What do you think?

Will I do?

Lady Stuart prefers ladies

to wear low-cut gowns at dinner, so I--

What?

You look worried.

- No, you're...

- Really?

Really?

- Mm.

- Mm.

I'll try not to be too late back.

- Well, I think that's unlikely, don't you,

from Richmond?

- All the same, I will endeavor not to be too late back.

- These people really excite you, don't they?

- Actually, Mary, they unnerve me,

but we're not alive, are we,

if we're not trying to better ourselves?

It's a shame you don't know them.

You could've come with me.

- Mrs. Sowden, how do?

- Mr. Washington.

Uh, he's inside, if you're looking for him.

- I am indeed. Could you tie him up?

- Yeah.

- Mr. Washington's here!

- We're building a proper staircase.

- Ah, very good.

Well, I've spoken to our Suzannah,

and Miss Lister--

the younger, Miss Marian--

has spoken to my wife, who had some misgivings,

but she's talked her 'round,

and, yes, we'd like to give you our blessing.

- Oh!

- Congratulations. - Thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Washington. - Amy!

Mr. Washington said yes!

- That's the great thing, having friends in high places.

- Uh, does she know? Suzannah?

Have you told her?

- No, lad, I thought you might like to do that.

Uh, she's been helping out at Mrs. Priestley's day school

in Lightcliffe this afternoon,

so you'll probably catch her on her way home,

if you set off.

- Nothing about Sam, I take it?

- No.

Oh, except we did have a note

from his brother, Ben, in Dewsbury.

Yeah, much as we thought,

he'd taken himself off to Liverpool,

then sailed to America, and not wanting anything

to do with any of us ever again.

- Dewsbury?

Well, I suppose only Sam would be blown enough

to set off for Liverpool via Dewsbury.

Have you got the note?

- Oh, um...

Oh, this is some weeks since.

One of the little ones will have scribbled on it

or lit fire with it. - Oh.

- Anyway, what does it matter?

There's none of us worse off without him.

- It's curious.

- What is?

- You haven't mentioned your Miss Walker once

since we got here,

and you were so upset about her in Leamington.

- If one can't distract oneself in London--

What is it Dr. Johnson said?

"When you're tired of London, you're tired of life."

- What is it about these people?

- Mariana...

- What do you think you'll get from them, ultimately?

- These are friendships I cultivated

when I was in Paris.

I'm not going to neglect them. I enjoy them.

They're interesting people. They're good people.

They're people who engage with the world.

Why do you resent it?

- I wonder what they get from you.

I suppose you amuse them.

- I hope so. I hope I amuse all my friends.

- Do you ever worry that they just see you

as some sort of novelty act--

you know, a clever court jester,

an entertaining freak?

- I suspect you're saying that to be hurtful,

and we can discuss why you want to be hurtful,

because really, your comments say more

about you and your frustration,

your anger at your lack of place in the world,

than they do about me.

It's interesting,

and possibly something you don't appreciate,

but the higher up in society one gravitates,

the more one's singularities

don't seem to matter quite so much,

the more one is appreciated for being different,

rather than vilified for it.

- Mm-hmm.

None of them want to sleep with you, though, do they?

I suppose you resorted to Miss Walker

because she has money, at least.

- This isn't attractive, Mariana.

Just so you know, it's quite the opposite:

parochial and small-minded.

Par--

- Ma'am, Mr. Lawton's downstairs.

- Mr. Lawton?

- Shall I show him up?

- Yes, of course.

- So...

I take it you don't want to come and live with me

at Shibden after all.

- I didn't for a minute think that you were being serious.

- Of course I was serious.

- And yet, since we've been here, I've barely seen you

because you've been so taken up

with these fair-weather friends you've cultivated.

- I'll leave you and Charles to it.

I had declined an invitation to go to the National Gallery

with my "fair-weather friends"

so I could go out shopping with you.

- Oh, shopping for a coffee pot for your other friend.

- But seeing as your husband is here,

I'll leave you to enjoy his company.

Steph was right.

- Steph? - About us.

Just too much water has passed under the bridge.

- You talk to my brother about me?

- Sometimes. - When was this?

Oh, when you were consulting him

about your funny little friend.

- You know, sometimes, Mariana,

I feel like I barely know you.

Charles, you're still in time for breakfast.

- Oh, don't let me disturb you.

- No, I've finished. I'm going out.

Mariana can send downstairs for fresh tea.

How was the funeral? How was the mother?

- Oh, as you might imagine.

I would have stayed longer, but the mother was surrounded

by her sisters and aunts and nieces,

so I just came to let you know

that I got here sooner than I thought

and to say that I've hired

a set of rooms at Fentons,

just round the corner,

but you may want to stay here with Miss Lister.

- Hmm, well,

I'll leave you to it.

Don't leave me.

- Of course people noticed!

- Well, they may have noticed,

but I shouldn't think it bothered anyone.

- The woman has just lost her child, for heaven's sake!

It was her people were bothering about!

I could've done with you there, in fact!

- What did you tell them?

I hope you didn't tell them I was ill.

- Madame,

Like banging your head against a brick wall!

- Don't do that. You'll damage yourself.

We have a change of plan.

We're going to S--

We're going to Paris.

If we leave here by 1:00, we can--

- What, today?

- Yes, today!

If we leave here by 1:00, we can be in Canterbury

by this evening and at the docks in Dover

by 9:00 tomorrow morning.

So you need to pack

and you need to order the horses.

- Ann, would you like some breakfast?

What have you done?

- I don't know.

-Where are the deeds to Shibden? -I needed to borrow some money.

You're an idiot.

-If I could just sink this-- -But if you can't,

you'll lose Shibden! We'll all lose Shibden!

You're on the run from a broken heart.

Perhaps it's time you got over it.

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