Original subtitles

I must leave the Marshalsea looking like a gentleman,

a gentleman of consequence.

The lining is of the finest Persian silk, the finest that money can buy?

Indeed it is, sir.

Wait till you see what Fanny's wearing.

She has got herself a very fine dress from Mrs Merdle's dressmaker.

And why should she not?

For the Dorrits are a very distinguished family indeed

and if we are to take our rightful place in society...

Amy, you're still in your shabby old gown.

Would you disgrace your father?

No, Father, but it seems...

I brook no buts, Amy! Change into your new dress.

The days of shabbiness and shame are behind us.

Oh, yes, reminds me... I must write to Mr Clennam.

Well, I'll have my lawyers write to him,

politely reminding him that we have no further need of his services.

Father, Mr Clennam is here.

Oh. So much the better.

- Mr Clennam? - Good morning, sir.

I believe I'm indebted to you in the sum of £24 9s 8d.

Not at all, sir.

- You dispute that amount? - You owe me nothing.

Mr Dorrit, what I gave, I gave in friendship.

And that's all in the past.

- Now... - Mr Clennam.

I prefer to be on a proper business footing.

You will be repaid, and you will oblige me by furnishing a receipt,

stating clearly that you make no further claims upon me.

Father, Mr Clennam makes no claims upon us. He is our friend.

- I prefer it so. - Quite right, Pa.

Can't be too careful with some of these fellas.

Mr Clennam?

Well, as you wish.

I want no-one, no-one, to be able to say that William Dorrit

does not fulfil his pecuniary obligations in full

- and to the last halfpenny. - I understand.

That being so, I have much to attend to,

unless you have some other urgent matter?

No, no urgent matter.

- I simply came to wish you well. - Then I thank you and bid you good day.

Of course. I beg your pardon, Mr Dorrit. Good day.

We shall not forget your kindness, Mr Clennam. I hope one day...

Thank you, Frederick.

I'm sure I'll see you all again very soon.

Father, how can you be so uncivil to Mr Clennam,

who has been such a good friend to us?

Amy, I command you to stay here!

Will you defy me?

No, Father.

But it is very hard.

Come here, my child.

We're going into a new world,

and this place and all connected with it

will soon be...forgotten

and as if they never were.

Thank you.

Much obliged.

Amy?

Amy!

Amy?

Good gracious! Where's Amy?

How should I know?

Mind your backs! Mind your backs! Mind your backs!

- Oh, him again. I might have known it. - She's showing us up like this.

Here. She must have fainted in her room.

And still in her old, shabby dress!

Take care of her.

Thank you, sir. I believe I know what to do.

I'm so vexed and ashamed! Oh, why are they not driving on?

She will have left by now.

I wonder where she will go

and whether her riches will bring her happiness.

No concern of ours now.

Better that she's gone.

She never should have come here.

I shall miss her, Flintwinch.

Hmm...

Monsieur Blandois.

Monsieur Rigaud at one time, I think.

Mademoiselle remembers well.

There is a man named Gowan travelling in Italy with his new bride.

I want you to watch him and report back to me.

And you wish some harm to come to him?

I do, but not yet.

Befriend him, if you wish.

He can be charming company.

His young wife is charming also, and very pretty.

You are in luck, mademoiselle.

I have been...

conducting some reconnaissance here of my own,

but I am in no rush...

...and a trip to Italy would amuse me.

Good. You may draw upon my account with Mr Casby of Gray's Inn Road,

where you will also find an envelope containing your directions.

Monsieur Casby -

an excellent man of business...

and...

...such a lover of his fellow man.

I think that concludes our business. I shall await your reports.

And you shall have them, by God.

Now, Mr Dorrit. You have two daughters, I understand,

and wish them to be introduced into society?

Yes. But first, as they've led rather sheltered lives...

You wish them to be schooled a little, to be chaperoned,

to be, as it were, finished.

Exactly. So, um, what would you recommend?

Foreign travel, Mr Dorrit.

Educative in itself,

and useful, in that any little infelicities of speech or manner

can be corrected well away from English eyes.

I particularly recommend Italy -

the Italian Alps, Venice, Florence and Rome.

I see.

And you would be, um...

Happy to accompany you all.

Ah, now...

as to remuneration...

Please, Mr Dorrit! I am not, as I hope you are aware, a governess!

Oh, dear. Pray do not imagine for one moment that I think so.

I cannot therefore put a price upon services

which it is a pleasure to me to render.

Of course not. Of course not.

But, um...

then, um, how...?

Please, Mr Dorrit. The whole topic is so indelicate and distasteful to me.

I hope we may never have to speak of it again!

- But, um... - What?

The gentleman who was good enough to recommend you to me

thought that, um, 300 a year...?

Oh, please, Mr Dorrit! Let us not speak of it!

But, er, as our mutual friend whom you mentioned

had only one daughter and you have two,

it would only seem correct and equitable to add a third more to whatever it was.

I could only accept, of course, on terms of complete equality -

as a companion, protector, mentor and friend.

Mrs General, that is exactly as I would wish it.

So you suggest we begin with, um...?

A grand tour, Mr Dorrit!

The St Bernard Pass is the most ancient pass

through the Western Alps, used as far back as the Bronze Age.

This is a disgrace! Grand tour? I don't see anything grand about it!

I am battered and bruised all over, and starving to death besides!

Why couldn't we have brought the coaches, Pa?

St Bernard Pass must be seen!

Many have remarked upon its chilly splendour.

- Chilly splendour - Mr Murray in his book...

That's all very well if we could see it from here, but we can't!

Damn me!

I can't take much more of this.

Is it much further to the hospice?

The monk said half an hour, William.

You're very quiet, Amy.

Are you all right?

Amy, speak up!

I am well.

Why's everyone always fussing about Amy? What about me?

The hospice, named after Saint Bernard of Menthon,

- is run by Augustinian monks. - Ah, good evening!

We overtook you on the pass, I think. My name is Blandois.

And my new-found friends and travelling companions, Monsieur et Madame Gowan.

Our name is, er, Dorrit, sir,

and this lady is Mrs General.

D...

Do... Dorrit? Dorrit, you say?

Enchanté.

How fortunate that our paths should cross.

Do we know you, sir?

No, no, no! But we must get to know each other.

We English travellers must stick together

in these foreign, inhospitable climes.

Allow me to recommend, my dears,

that you shade your faces from the hot fire

after exposure to the mountain air and snow.

Thank you, Mrs General.

I'm perfectly all right as I am.

These fellows are an immense time with supper. I wonder what they'll give us.

Not roast man, I trust.

What do you mean by that, sir?

I mean that, if you're not to be served for the general supper,

perhaps you'll do us the favour of not cooking yourself at the general fire.

I say, now look here! These...

Pet. Pet?

Pray, let me put this water to her lips.

Right.

Thank you.

What happened?

You fainted, my dear.

The heat of the fire, I expect.

Ohh...

I think I'd better take her upstairs.

- May I help you, sir? - No, thank you, I can manage.

Miss Amy Dorrit, and may she enjoy her fortune!

Hear, hear!

Couldn't have happened to a kinder young woman!

Let's hope she's enjoying herself, wherever she is.

Oh, come on, Maggy. Cheer up!

Why did she have to go away?

She'll be back one day soon,

and she left us enough money to provide for you, and for us all.

Enough for us to set up a shop, Maggy,

and she says you shall work in it, too, if you like, in a smart white apron.

Should you like that, Maggy?

I should like it better if Amy could see me in it.

Come on, have a bit of cake and let's see a smile.

That's what she'd like to see.

Nothing will be the same without her. Will it, mister?

- Mr Casby! - Yes...

Oh, Mr Casby! Get a chair for Mr Casby. Quickly! Ooh!

Oh, that's quite all right, Mrs Plornish. That's quite all right.

I was just doing my rounds and I wanted to offer my congratulations.

Your own little shop, here in Bleeding Heart Yard!

- Will you share a glass with us? - Oh, very kind, very kind.

Just a small glass, perhaps. Just a very small glass.

To wish you good fortune in your new enterprise.

- To us! - Hear, hear!

To Happy Cottage.

Goodbye, Mr Casby.

Make sure to come and visit our shop soon!

I will, of course, Mrs Plornish.

We need to squeeze them harder now, Pancks.

A shop, indeed!

They have to pay more rent. More rent from them, for a shop.

Double the rent, Pancks, and squeeze them hard!

Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona

quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi,

per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Amen!

How is your wife, sir?

What?

Oh, she's, um...she's sleeping.

Tell me, Father, do you...

Has she taken any nourishment, sir?

A little, yes, yes.

It must be a very dreary life here in the winter, Father.

The cold is very severe and the air becomes difficult to breathe.

But the confinement, the lack of space -

so small, so very limited, and always the same, day after day.

But we who have chosen it see it very differently.

Monsieur is not used to confinement.

True.

Monsieur could not realise how the mind

accommodates itself to such things when it is necessary.

I suppose so.

We will say no more.

Excuse me.

Now where's she off to?

Don't be alarmed.

I came to see if you were better and if I could do anything for you.

I was dreaming I was at home...

My old home, I mean, before I was married.

Now you are far away from it.

Yes.

I have been far away from home before,

but then I had my parents with me, so I never missed it.

- But you have your husband now. - Yes.

I think...

I think I am not quite used to being married yet.

I think your husband cares very much for you.

Yes, he loves me

and I am happy.

But marriage is so different.

I never thought about what it would really be like.

The other gentleman - is he a friend of yours?

Oh, no.

He attached himself to us in Paris.

I don't like him,

but he amuses Henry.

It's a curious chance that brings us together at last.

Why do you say that?

I have been looking out for you.

We have a mutual friend.

I have a little note here from him,

which I was to give to you if ever I found you.

Shush, Lion! Down!

It says the dear young friend who brings this note

may be a comfort to me at some time.

He is right. You've been a comfort to me already.

Did he ever speak of me?

Perhaps he never told you my story?

No.

We were not always rich, you see.

We used to be very poor...

and Mr Clennam was kind to us and helped us.

But now my father wants us to forget Mr Clennam...

...and everyone who knew us in the days of our disgrace.

You had better take this back and hide it,

and then my husband will be sure not to see it.

If he did, he might speak of it, by accident.

I'll see you in the morning.

Good night.

Good night. Thank you.

Allow me to escort you down, mademoiselle.

Thank you. I'm quite all right.

Please.

Take my arm, I insist.

Take it.

Ah!

I found a little bird lost in the dark

and hereby return her to you, monsieur.

I thank you, sir.

I'd better attend to that wife of mine. Good night, Miss Dorrit, gentlemen.

Your friend, sir, is a little impatient.

You find him so, do you?

In the matter of the fire, sir, he need not have expressed himself

as he did to my son, who is by birth and education a gentleman.

My friend is sometimes of sarcastic temper.

He is an artist. Hmm?

Beside that,

his family is very highly connected.

Do you imply, sir...?

I make no aspersions upon your family, Monsieur Dorrit.

One can tell at a glance that you are...

all from the top drawer!

I thank you, sir.

And now I think it must be time to retire.

We leave very early in the morning.

I drink to your health...

...and that of your distinguished family!

Very kind, sir,

but you must excuse us now.

Gaie! Gaie! Toujours gaie!

Merci, madame.

Amy, stop fussing about with the servants!

Now, what the devil do you mean by showing us all up last night?

Why? What did I do?

Rushing around with water for Mrs Gowan, running upstairs to nurse her -

in short, behaving like a servant,

instead of the lady you're supposed to be. I was mortified, Amy!

And all of this for the wife of a man who had just insulted me!

If it was worth my while, I'd pull his nose for him.

Well, there's more to it than that.

She knew, or knew of, this Mrs Gowan before yesterday.

It doesn't take much to divine whose friend Mrs Gowan is.

She's Mr Clennam's friend, isn't she?

- Is this the case? - Yes, Father.

Amy, you have a great position to support.

It is incumbent upon you, it is incumbent upon all of us,

to make ourselves respected. As to Mr Clennam...

Who also saw fit to insult me with his ungentlemanly conduct.

And was always pushing himself in where he wasn't wanted.

Mr Clennam always behaved very well to all of us. You know he did.

Oh, don't talk nonsense, Amy!

You are partly correct, Amy.

I don't altogether share Fanny and Edward's low opinion of Mr Clennam.

But in view of our unfortunate prior association,

it is imperative that we now have nothing whatsoever to do with him.

Is that understood?

Is that understood, Amy?

Yes, Father.

See you soon, my little nightingale.