All language subtitles for Miss.Scarlet.S06E01.Secrets and Lies

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Come on, Jack!

Down it, Jack.

Down it!

Down it!

Down it!

Down it!

Down it!

Down it!

There you are.

Inspector Blake, if I can explain.

Which part?

Drugging a dozen men or stealing a
priceless artifact?

It was eight men, and I didn't steal
anything.

I returned it to the British Museum for a
fee, I admit, but as soon as I'd done so I

immediately informed Scotland Yard to a
new handgun.

You could have killed one if not all of
them.

A little Lorden would never hurt anyone,
Inspector Blake.

Perhaps we should continue this
conversation inside.

Perhaps I should have forewarned you of my
plan.

I'm sorry, do you forgive me?

No, not remotely.

We need to be discreet.

I'd better close the door then.

We need to be careful.

You cannot simply kiss me in the middle of
my hallway, Alexander.

You didn't seem to mind.

I just want to stay in this bubble
forever.

No one else knowing or interfering.

Things are perfect as they are.

Mostly, yes.

What do you mean mostly?

Eliza, I have offered
you three cases in the

past fortnight, all of
which you've turned down.

I've been extremely busy.

How does Clarence feel about you turning
down work?

He feels the pain every bit as much as I
do.

Hmm.

You didn't tell him, did you?

The truth is, I'm worried what it would be
like working together now.

As do I.

But there's only one way to find out.

That's why I've never been in this
situation before.

I don't want anything to ruin it.

Eliza!

Inspector Flake.

How nice to see you again.

Mrs. Potts.

I see more of you here than I do at work.

What do you want for dinner?

Anything's fine.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

You usually fussy about what, yeah,
for dinner.

I should be getting back.

Yes.

Thank you for coming, Inspector Flake.

I'll be sure to speak to the accounts
department about my invoice.

Be sure that you do, Miss Collard.

I'll see you out, Inspector Flake.

Mrs. Potts.

Inspector Flake.

I know that girl inside out.

And I've never seen her so happy.

And I've a sneaky inkling as to why.

But don't go asking me to share my
inklings with you, Barnabas.

We both know what you like with secrets.

Barnabas, you've hardly touched your
bacon.

Ah, cannot deny I'm in a little trouble to
my dear.

Why?

What's happened?

As you know, I like to keep all the
mortuaries under my charge, spick and span.

However, recently chaos has begun to seep
through the cracks.

Cracks caused, I'm sorry to say,
by our Chief Coroner.

Mr. Wormsley.

He's become a shadow of his former self.

He now rides at work late.

He leaves early.

His administration has become woeful
indeed.

And on more than one occasion, I have noticed
the potent aroma of whiskey about him.

Oh, you must speak to him.

It's not fair to lay extra work at your
door.

It's a strict chain of command.

One must respect my beloved.

If everyone went around saying all that was
on their minds, they would be... Panicky.

Precisely.

Then all I can offer is a kiss.

Might that soothe your furrowed brow?

Yes.

Yes, module, yes.

That may alleviate some of my discomfort.

All right.

See you later.

Excuse me.

I can't seem to find the clerical office.

I think it's at the end of the corridor.

You think?

I've only been here once before.

It's my first day.

Really?

Mine too.

End of the corridor, you say?

On the right, I think.

I'll give it a try.

Thank you.

Oh, good luck.

You too.

Well, when is Mr Wormsley due in?

Very well.

Please let him know that we're still
waiting on the post-mortem from yesterday.

Come.

Detective Willow is reporting for duty,
sir.

Yes, I'm well aware who you are,
Detective Willow.

Please.

You seem to have something on your lapel.

I do apologise, sir.

Teeth and baby at home.

I didn't realise you were married.

It's complicated, sir.

So, given this is your first day,
normally I'd give you time to find your

feet, but I'm afraid we're still a couple
of men short.

I think you met Detective Fitzroy when he
came in for your interview.

Yes, sir.

Well, he's now left to take the role of
senior detective in the Birmingham force,

and Detective Phelps is...
City of London, please, sir.

Yeah, I have some mates there.

What are they saying about him?

He's doing very well, sir.

You can speak freely.

He's a bit of a character, is what I hear,
sir.

Indeed he is.

So, are you ready to get to work?

Yes, sir.

Very much so.

And thank you again for giving me the job.

I won't let you down.

Glad to hear it.

Two dead bodies for our immediate
attention.

One in a townhouse in Mayfair, the other
in a cold, drafty alleyway in Kilburn.

If you want to make a good impression on
your first day, I would take...

The drafty alleyway in Kilburn,
sir.

You and I are going to get along just
fine.

It's not that business has
dried up completely, but things

have been rather quiet,
particularly from Scotland Yard.

Things will pick up, Clarence.

They always do.

Yes, but we haven't had a single case from
Scotland Yard for some time.

Well, it has been
unseasonably cold, which, as

you know, does have an
effect on the crime levels.

Usually, in such lean
times, you'd be accused in

Scotland Yard of employing
an alternative agency.

Usually, you'd be on your feet and out the
door to talk to the inspector.

Usually... Please stop saying usually.

This is about you and Inspector Blake,
isn't it?

I have no idea what you mean.

Oh, I think you do.

You have offended him in some way,
and he's refusing to employ you.

Because your powers of deduction still
need honing, Clarence.

I can assure you,
Inspector Blake and I are

on the best of terms,
professionally speaking.

Now, can you please drop that odd-looking
frown?

It's very disconcerting.

She answered her word, sir.

I'm Inspector Blake from Scotland Yard.

I believe it was you who found the body.

Can you tell me your name?

Take her back to the yard.

Get her a cup of tea.

Yes, sir.

Come on, lad.

No evidence of a robbery.

No sign of a struggle.

Potassium bromide.

The victim's well-dressed.

There's no obvious signs of attack.

Doesn't look like a theft.

She's still got her purse.

Two bottles of potassium bromide.

Two dead women.

Coincidence, sir?

Tell me about your lady.

Her name was Elizabeth Roper.

Passerby said that she was having some
sort of fit before she died.

Convulsions and such.

I've asked the uniform to do
house-to-house inquiries.

I also have a potential witness.

The young woman.

She seems traumatised by whatever she saw.

Hasn't said a word, not even her name.

When I was at Bow Street, if we had a
female witness who was in shock,

we used to ask one of the secretaries to
sit with her for a bit.

How many ladies you could ask?

An urgent request from Scotland Yard.

That's welcome news indeed.

Shall I get you a can?

Not yet.

I'm thinking.

May I point out that
you've been reading the

same telegram for almost ten minutes now?

What if another case comes in?

Something bigger, more lucrative?

I don't understand.

Well, it's a fairly simple concept.

I don't understand because that's
literally never bothered you before.

Am I missing something?

Fine.

Bye.

Fine.

I'll go.

Miss Scarlett?

Inspector Blake.

Where is she?

Would you like a cup of tea?

Coffee?

I know where they keep the whisky,
if that helps.

There's no rush.

Take your time.

As I said, my name is Miss Scarlett,
but you can call me Eliza.

And you are?

My name's Sarah Mason.

She arrived at the house
of the deceased Miss

Quayle at twenty-five
plus eight this morning.

The door was ajar, and
when no one answered, she

ended up finding Miss
Quayle collapsed on the floor.

What was her reason for going to Miss
Quayle's home?

Miss Mason is a secretary to a doctor on
Harley Street.

To Isambard Cole, who was treating the
deceased for a form of neurosis.

He sent Miss Mason to
check on her when she

failed to attend an
appointment last evening.

That is most comprehensive.

Thank you, Miss Scarlett.

I believe she's now ready to make a full
statement.

I'll send my invoice to the accounts
department.

You're leaving?

You asked me to speak to your witness,
and I have.

I'm sure you can take it from here.

No persuasion or manipulation to get me to
hire you on the rest of the case?

This is a new dawn indeed, and one I am
ill-prepared for.

I'm trying to make the best of a difficult
situation, Alexander.

Believe me, it's not easy turning down
work.

Eliza.

I don't want people to know about us
either.

Not yet, anyway.

The fact is, you are an excellent
detective, and I need your help.

Are you trying to charm me?

Yes.

Is it working?

Come.

Detective Willows, this is Miss Scarlett.

Hello, she is, sir.

It's nice to meet you, Miss Scarlett.

And you.

I saw you in court once.

You were giving evidence at the Jacobson
trial.

You kept interrupting the judge,
and you got fined.

Twice.

Only twice?

You have some information on your
poisoning.

I do, sir.

The deceased, Mrs Roper, she was under the
care of a doctor at Harley Street.

He specialises in treating melancholia.

The doctor isn't barred coal, by any
chance.

The very same.

So both women were prescribed potassium
bromide by the same doctor.

Yeah, it would seem that way.

We need to speak to
this doctor and contact

the pharmacy that
supplies him with the drugs.

There's also the post-mortem of the two
women that need to be expedited.

Thank you, Miss Scarlett.

I'm quite aware of what the next step
should be.

Do what she said.

Yes, sir.

Well, as you said, I can take it from
here, so thank you again for coming in.

Unless you do want to help with the
investigation.

I'm fine, thank you.

So, we'll say that I'm here because I
interviewed the secretary, and I've worked

for Scotland Yard for
many years, even before

you arrived, in fact, so
be sure to mention that.

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

It's just our first professional
engagement since...

Well, you know, I just want everything to
go smoothly.

As do I.

Up to you.

No, Alexander, when
we're working together, it's

best that you treat me as
you would one of your men.

You can be polite in our private time.

Perhaps you could write a list of what I'm
meant to do and when.

Thank you.

Two of my patients found dead.

Mrs Roper collapsed
in the street, and Miss

Quayle was found at
home by your secretary.

By Miss Mason?

The poor creature suffers from a nervous
disposition.

She will be most traumatised.

Well, yes, that's why I interviewed her,
because as a woman, Inspector Blake

thought it might help, since Miss Mason is
also a woman.

Lady Detective, how curious.

Do you often work together?

I have a long-standing relationship,
working relationship, with Scotland Yard,

not just Inspector Blake, so... but that's
why I'm here.

Both of the deceased were found with the
same medication, potassium bromide.

Was it you who prescribed that?

To control the melancholia from which they
both suffered.

They were also undergoing a course of
electrotherapy.

I used the updated adaptation of the
Pulvermarkers technique.

Oh, yes, I've read about this.

Patients are given electrical currents
that pass through the body to the brain.

It's said to calm the mind of agitation.

All right, I told you about this.

At your office, at Scotland Yard.

Yes, Miss Gollard.

Thank you for reminding me, particularly
of the location of said conversation.

Elizabeth Roper was seen to have some kind
of convulsion before she died.

Could this be linked to the treatment?

Mild convulsions only occur whilst the
electric current is being administered.

As for the potassium bromide,
it is possible, I suppose,

but it would be an extreme
and unusual side effect.

Could someone have tampered with the
medication?

Unlikely.

I receive it sealed from the
pharmaceutical supplier.

I then administer the dosage myself.

We will need a list of all other patients
prescribed with potassium bromide.

Yes, of course.

It may not be a factor, but until we see
the post-mortem, we cannot be sure.

Yes.

You mentioned that your secretary, Miss
Mason, suffers from a nervous condition.

Is she also on this medication?

Yes, she is.

I'll add her to the list.

I'll speak to Miss Mason whilst you and
your men track down the other patients.

What?

You were so intent on keeping our
relationship secret that you're in danger

of broadcasting the very thing you're
trying to conceal.

It's perhaps I am being a little overly
cautious.

My nerves were a little freed in there.

Really?

I had no idea.

I'll go and visit Miss Mason.

Would you like a lift?

No, no, no.

The less we're seen together, the better.

Good day, Inspector Flake.

Hold the door, please.

Good day, Mr Potts.

Detective Willows.

And accustomed to seeing you within these
hallowed walls.

Transfer from Bow Street.

It's my first day today.

Best of British to you.

Actually, I was just coming to see you.

We need the post-mortems for the two women
brought in this morning.

I'll say the word as soon as the
examinations are completed, but I must

warn you, we are running very much behind
today.

Here's why I'm here.

Have you ever tried to see Mr Wormsley?

I'm afraid not.

I can fight either hand with him.

If you do happen upon
him, please impress that

he is needed at the
mortuary most precipitously.

And do use that word.

I'll do my best, Mr Potts.

Thank you.

Hello again.

Did you find it, the clerical office?

I did.

You're a lifesaver.

Thanks so much.

How's your first day?

So far, so good.

Glad to hear it.

I didn't get your name.

Willows.

Detective Willows.

George Willows.

It's a lot of names.

I'm just Isabel.

Well, Isabel Summers.

Nice to meet you, Detective George
Willows.

Miss Mason?

Miss Mason?

Who are you?

Do you know that man?

I believe so.

I don't know his name, but he's a patient
of Dr. Cole's.

I remember seeing him a couple weeks back.

He came to see Dr. Cole.

What did he want with me?

Well, we can't be certain.

But there's a chance that the two women
who died had their medication poisoned.

Two women?

Another of Dr. Cole's patients has died,
as well as Miss Quayle.

Yes, Mrs. Elizabeth Roper.

And you think the medication may have
killed them?

Well, we're still waiting on the
post-mortem report.

I think you should stop taking your
tablets until we know more.

May I ask why you're taking the
medication?

Life has been a struggle for me.

I grew up in an orphanage and then the
workhouse.

And when I came of age, I left to work in
a laundry.

Which is where Dr. Cole took pity on me.

He took me in.

First as a housemaid.

And then he trained me as his secretary.

He taught me to read and write.

A father couldn't have done more.

You're having electrotherapy?

It helps me tremendously.

Dr. Cole administers it.

He'll know the name of the man you found
here.

Sounds like the man you described is
Zebediah Sawyer.

He's a long-standing patient of mine.

Poor creature, plagued by demonic voices,
telling him to cause people harm.

When was the last time you saw him?

Last week.

He turned up at my door in an agitated
state.

We'd started a course of
electrotherapy a few days

earlier and he was adamant
it had made him worse.

I offered to help him but he wouldn't
listen.

He was in a blind rage.

Enough to wish harm on you?

An act of revenge perhaps?

Zebediah developed his
condition in his early twenties

but before that he was a
functioning member of society.

He had several different jobs, including
being a clerk at a pharmacist's store.

Could he have the skill to temper with the
medication you prescribed?

The bottles you found on the dead women,
could I see them?

Both bottles are wrongly labeled.

According to Dr. Cole, one tablet of
potassium bromide is the standard daily dose.

These labels say five tablets are a
potentially lethal amount.

Luckily, these are the only bottles
affected.

The other patients all had the correct
dose.

So the Zebediah saw you tampered with the
labels?

Perhaps there's revenge on the doctor who
failed to cure him.

It seems so.

Any news on the postmortems?

Still waiting, sir.

What else is going on at the city
mortuary?

I saw Mr. Potts earlier.

He was looking for Mr. Wanderley.

Grace, get yourself down to the city
mortuary.

Find out what's going on over there.

Yes, sir.

Do we have an address for Zebediah Sawyer?

There are at least twelve main addresses.

The man moved around a lot.

It would save time if we took a few each.

No, you will remain here.

What?

Why?

Miss Gullet, the man we are hunting is
extremely dangerous.

Then I will be careful, as we all will.

I have many resources for such scenarios.

I will take some hide muscle with me.

You need to bring me to the nicest place.

I have a warden's to mind, Clarence.

I need two more to go.

What's the next address?

It's just a few doors down.

This is Zebediah Sawyer.

He clearly likes this neighborhood.

I'm curious.

Why did you bring me along with you?

I promised Inspector Blake that I wouldn't
go alone.

Yes, but that's my point.

You've lied to the inspector many times
before.

That's a habit that I wish to break.

Why?

What's changed?

Nothing's changed.

I just wanted to tell Inspector Blake the
truth, that's all.

Premises moved to Belmont Street.

What?

So, you told the inspector that I'm your
hide muscle?

Oh, of course not.

Well, then that's hardly telling him the
truth, is it?

Can we please just concentrate on the
matter at hand?

You stay here, visit the public houses and

the streets around, see
what we can find out.

Apparently the man's a heavy drinker.

I'll go to this Belmont Street boarding
house, see if there's been any sign of him.

You're sending me to the roughest pubs
this side of the city to look for a heavy

drinker who hears demonic voices telling
him to kill people?

I'll meet you back at the office first
thing.

If you don't show up, I'll send out a
search party.

How does that sound?

Unsatisfactory.

I'm looking for Mrs Potts.

You found her?

I've been sent to give you this.

We need to put out an appeal for
information on a man named Zebediah Sawyer.

This needs typing up and circulating.

Consider it done.

And you are?

Good evening, Detective Willows.

Miss Summers.

How are you settling in?

There's a lot to learn, but I think I'm
getting there.

She's doing very well indeed.

Was there anything else, Detective
Willows?

No.

That's all.

Thank you.

Sir!

Where have you been all day?

I had to go ahead and find an interim
coroner in your stead.

Not now, boss.

Yes, now, Mr Wimsley, if you please.

Sorry, sir, but I can hold my tongue no
longer.

Things need to be said before the good

reputation of this mortuary
is forever tarnished.

Get out!

And stay out!

Thank you for your time.

If there's any sighting
at all of Mr Sawyer,

then please contact
the police immediately.

He's extremely dangerous.

I have a revolver, and I'm not afraid to
use it.

I'd really rather you didn't.

Miss Scarlet!

I made myself look an idiot.

You're overreacting.

Do you have any idea how
hard it's been for me to build

my reputation, only to act
like some damsel in distress?

I even called you Alexander.

Detective Willows won't care.

He'll put it down to you being scared
witless.

Which, by the way, is allowed, since
you are a mere mortal like the rest of us.

Tying myself in knots, thinking,
what should I say?

What should I do?

How would I behave if I were a normal
detective?

When exactly were you normal?

I'm more concerned that you put yourself
at risk.

It was only luck that I was there.

Belmont Lodging House was on my list.

You said you wouldn't go alone.

I wasn't alone.

Clarence was with me for most of the time.

Clarence was your hired muscle.

Years of carrying ledgers have not gone to
waste.

Stronger than your looks.

Now I feel guilty about lying to you.

You see, this is impossible.

We cannot work together.

Eliza, you're overreacting.

One of the lads just came by with a
message for you, Inspector.

Thank you, Mrs. Ross.

I have to go.

I've made a decision.

I will no longer work on the case.

Don't be ridiculous.

I want our...

court-jit romance, whatever you want to
call it, to have a fighting chance.

This is the best way.

Well, for what it's worth, I think you're
wrong.

No one knows about us, Eliza.

But you must do what's right for you.

Have I not been like a mother to that
girl?

Have I not been the one to pick her up
when she grazed her knee?

Or dried her eyes when Arabella Herbert
called her the cruelest of names?

Or defended her to her father when she was
expelled from college?

Again, if she tells me nothing.

Nothing.

How was your day?

Oh, I was dismissed.

Mr. Wormsley finally arrived at work at
five o'clock this evening.

Five o'clock!

But I could take no more, so I gave him a
piece of my mind.

Oh, Barnabas, I am sorry.

He would not even allow me to collect my
things.

Threw me out like a vagrant, ruined my
hat.

And do you know what else he called me?

A vexatious buffoon.

Well, you wait and see what I call him if
I ever set eyes on that man.

For 30 years I have given to the city
mortuary.

And now, for the first time in
my life, I'm... I'm unemployed.

Oh.

Why don't you get out of these work rows?

And I'll make you a nice dinner.

Then we should talk things through over a
glass of sherry by the fire.

Good evening.

What did it worth?

What's wrong with Barnabas?

He's been sacked.

Sacked?

That's what I said.

What's wrong with you?

Is there anything you'd like to tell me?

Like what?

Dinner will be in an hour.

Very well.

Good evening, sir.

Detective Willows?

What have we got?

He was pulled out about an hour ago.

There's a gunshot wound to the head.

And do we know who he is?

I think this is our man, sir.

He certainly fits the description.

Oh, Zebediah.

What did you do?

You can confirm that this is your patient,
Zebediah Sawyer?

It is.

Is it possible that he could have taken
his own life?

The gunshot seems to have been at close
range.

On more than one occasion, he expressed
suicidal thoughts.

That's why we started the course of
electrotherapy.

But his drinking exacerbated his symptoms.

I tried to persuade him... to stop.

But he had a chaotic mind.

It's late.

I'll come by in the morning to take a full
statement.

Get some rest, doctor.

I did everything I could to help him.

But over the years, I've come to realize
that...

some people are beyond help.

It's not like you to forget your key,
Clarence.

It's not like me to be suffering from
alcohol poisoning.

As requested, I visited all the public
houses of the Seventh Isles last night...

in search of this Zebediah Sawyer...

in one particularly grotty establishment
called the Plague Pit.

I ran into a spot and bothered with some
of the locals.

I honestly think I would have been safer
in an actual plague pit.

I had to buy five rounds of roughest
whiskey...

for the whole pub.

That is the only reason I am still alive.

Well... thank you for your efforts.

But Scotland Yard are no longer in need of
our services.

What?

Why not?

Well... because I've just received
a telegram from Minspector Blake.

A body was found on the riverbank last
night and identified as Zebediah Sawyer.

Really?

Clarence, will you please stop questioning
me...

every time I mention Scotland Yard or
Inspector Blake?

All I was going to say is that according
to my new friends at the Plague Pit...

Mr Sawyer is very much alive.

What?

Yes.

He's awaiting sentencing in Manchester
County prison.

Barnabas.

I heard about your dismissal.

I'm sorry.

I've been instructed to come by to pick up
my personal effects.

Do you happen to know if Mr Wormsley's in
attendance?

Well, no-one appears to be here.

The door was left open.

Mr Wormsley's gone out and left the door
on the ledge.

Not for the first time.

I'm pleased that you're here because I
need your assistance.

Please.

I'd like to look at the photographs of two
recent post-mortems...

the dead women brought in yesterday.

I'm afraid that as a former employee...

I am no longer permitted access to the
premises.

Well, I won't tell if you don't.

That would be a severe breach of protocol.

I simply cannot.

No, of course not.

Well, I am here on official police
business... so perhaps if you assist me...

then I can grant you permission.

And you do need to collect your things,
do you not?

Very well.

Miss Scarlett, would you be so kind as to
grant me permission...

to enter the city mortuary?

Permission granted, Mr Potts.

Now then, I need your brain.

Thank you.

Dr. Cole?

Miss Mason.

Sarah?

Please, put the gun down.

Whatever's happened, we can talk it
through.

We can talk to him, not me.

He's the liar.

He's the one that's lied again,
and again, and again.

Put the weapon down, Miss Mason.

Sarah is my daughter.

Her mother was an inmate at an asylum...
where I was the residing physician.

She was so beautiful.

So fragile.

We fell in love.

I knew it was wrong.

Which is why I left my position and I
never saw her again.

I had no idea she was with child...

or that she'd died in childbirth.

I only found out years later through some
research...

I was carrying out at the Woolwich
Workhouse.

There I found a file on Sarah.

By that time she'd left, but...
I was determined to find her.

I was working in a laundry.

It was a miserable existence.

One day, Dr. Cole came to do a study... on
the health of the girls that worked there.

He seemed to feel sorry for
me in particular... and took me in.

He never told me who he really was.

The man lying in the mortuary... isn't
your patient, Zebediah Sawyer, is he?

Unlike the two women, he doesn't have the
marks on his wrists...

from the electrotherapy you said you'd
given him.

His name is Franklin Sloan.

He's a private detective who helped me
track Sarah down.

Two weeks ago he showed up at my door
drunk...

in gambling debts and tried to blackmail
me.

I refused to pay him.

But when I found out he'd visited Sarah...

I knew he would reveal to her who I really
was.

Which is when you had the idea to blame
him... for the deaths of the two women.

You gave him the identity of a past
patient...

you knew was locked up in Manchester
Prison.

So if Sloan didn't poison them...

who did?

It was me.

I made a mistake.

Got confused by the different medicine
dosages...

and mixed up the information on the
labels.

All of this...

it's my fault.

I am the one to blame, not Sarah.

The poor child had not long learned to
read and write.

I pushed her...

too hard.

Gave her too much responsibility.

I was just so proud of her.

So you blamed Sloan to protect your
daughter...

and then you killed him?

Not before he told Miss Mason the truth.

This morning... I woke up to find
an envelope had been slipped...

under my door in the night.

And it was a file...
where I learned that...

Dr Cole was my father.

I was so angry and confused.

In a rage...

she picked up my revolver.

She didn't mean to hurt me.

The same revolver used to put a bullet in
Sloan's head.

So what happens now?

Well, given the circumstances,
if Miss Mason puts in a guilty plea...

I'm certainly sure she'll live with a
prison sentence.

Dr Cole on the other hand.

Do you still have that whiskey in your
office?

Are you suggesting being seen entering my
office?

Together?

Very funny.

Good night, Detective Willows.

Miss Summers, good night to you.

Was there anything else you wanted to say
to me?

Or ask me?

No, I don't think so.

Because I'm free this evening.

I'm afraid I'm not.

I have to pick up the baby from the
minders.

Oh, I didn't realise.

She's not mine.

She's my sister.

She lives with me.

It's a long story.

Well, good night, Detective Willows.

But I'm free tomorrow night.

I'm glad you changed your mind about
working the case.

The outcome could have been very
different.

You would have worked it out.

Probably, yes.

Eliza.

You don't need to say it.

You didn't know what I was going to say.

You're going to say that me
believing I could keep us in

some sort of bubble is not
only childish but unrealistic.

I was going to say, as an ex-military man,
structure and control run through my veins.

But over the years I've learned that trying
to control too much of your life is futile.

And when you stop trying to do so,
that's where the real freedom lies.

Oh, and there's one more thing.

Goodness, I don't know how much more
wisdom I can take.

The burden of this situation might be
eased if you were to confide in someone.

Someone other than me.

Barnabas!

Barnabas.

You're cooking dinner.

Indeed I am, my beloved.

Now, sit down, put your feet up, and I'll
go and fetch you a nice glass of sherry.

What's put all this on?

I've decided there's no point in moping
about.

So, until I receive a full and
satisfactory apology from Mr Wormsley,

I shall be in charge of household duties.

I'm rather looking forward
to giving this kitchen

a spring clean, perhaps
even a little rearranging.

So, the stew.

Gently simmering.

So, before I add my dumplings, just enough

time to fetch that
sherry bottle, my George.

Excuse me.

Nice to see him so contented again.

Ivy, there's something that I need to tell
you about myself and Inspector Blake.

I'm listening.

Well, he's coming to dinner, so we need to
set an extra place.

And?

And we are currently enjoying a quiet,
very private courtship.

Goodness me, I had no idea.

You're a terrible liar.

And you shouldn't have kept it from me.

And you shouldn't be listening at doors.

You and Inspector Blake.

That is music to my ears.

But please, keep it to yourself for now.

We're still working out our arrangement.

My lips are sealed.

Bottle o' sherry.

Barnabas, Inspector Blake is joining us
for dinner.

Huh?

I invited him.

The more the merrier.

We can enjoy a nice long game of cheese
rummy after dinner.

The four of us, all evening, putting the
world to right.

So won't that be marvellous?

Marvellous.

Marvellous.