All language subtitles for Love.and.Friendship.2016.720p.BluRay.x264-GECKOS

Langford.

Langford.

If only it hadn't been for Langford,

how happy we might have been.

Manwaring!

Manwaring, don't turn
your back to me, please!

- I can't bear it!
- Lady Susan!

Frederica!

Wait! I beg you!

Catherine, a letter.

It seems Lady Susan will finally visit.

- In fact, she's already on her way.
- What?

Lady Susan Vernon?

Congratulations on being about to receive
the most accomplished flirt in all England.

You misjudge her, Reginald.

How so?

Well, like many women
of beauty and distinction,

our sister-in-law has been a victim
of the spirit of jealousy in our land.

- It's jealousy?
- Yes.

Like anyone, Susan might be
capable of an action

or a remark which is
open to misconstruction,

but I can't help but admire the fortitude with
which she has supported grave misfortune.

Excuse me. I spoke out of turn.

Why would Lady Susan, who was
so well-settled at Langford,

suddenly want to visit us?

What reason does she give?

Her anxiety to meet me
and to "know the children."

It's never concerned her before.

Your Ladyship.

Susan. Come, hurry.

My dear, such haste. How curious you are.

Mr. Johnson's carriage is
about to come into the street.

Surely that must happen often?

- You didn't receive my letter?
- Letter?

Mr. Johnson forbids my seeing you.

Well, that's preposterous.
By what means "forbids"?

He threatened the severest
punishment imaginable,

sending me back to Connecticut.

To be tarred and feathered?

He claims to have important business
at Hartford

and threatens to settle there
if our connection isn't entirely severed.

And for what possible reason or pretext?

His former ward,
Lucy Manwaring, wrote to him.

Did she?

- A horrid woman.
- I know.

Deranged. If she were going to be jealous,

she should not have married
such a charming man.

I recall thinking, as I approached Langford,

"I like this man.
Pray heaven no harm come of it."

I was determined to be discreet,
and I have been.

Admitting no one's attentions
but Manwaring's,

avoiding general flirtation entirely,

except for a little notice
bestowed on Sir James Martin.

But if the world knew my motive there,
it would honor me.

- Martin?
- Sir James Martin.

Of Martindale. Vastly rich, rather simple.

Ideal.

Miss Maria Manwaring
has set her cap for him,

considering such an income
too large not to be shared.

But with a little notice,

I detached him and soon
had him in love with Frederica.

If my daughter were not
the greatest simpleton on Earth,

- she would be engaged to him now.
- What?

She refused him.

A baronet with 10,000 a year.
It's all so provoking.

But where will you live?

If there were another place open to me,
I would crawl there on my knees.

The worst spot this side of the ocean.

A country village. Churchill.
My brother-in-law's seat.

Mrs. Cross, a gentlewoman
in straitened circumstances,

will come with me as my companion,

to pack and unpack.
You know, that sort of thing.

And as there's an element
of friendship involved,

I'm sure the paying of wages
would be offensive to us both.

My brother-in-law,
Charles Vernon, is very rich.

Once a man gets his name
on a banking house,

he rolls in money.

So it's not very rational for his lady
to begrudge the sums he's advanced me.

Decidedly irrational, not rational at all.

I have no money and no husband.

Though, in one's plight,
they say, is one's opportunity.

Not that I would ever want
to think in opportunistic terms.

Certainly not. Never.

Churchill coming into view, Your Ladyship.

Heavens. What a bore.

Yes. Decidedly boring.

Charles.

- Susan, welcome to Churchill.
- Exceptional reception.

Mrs. Cross.

Mrs. Cross, Charles Vernon.
Welcome to Churchill.

- Charming. Yellow suits you.
- This is Frederic and Emily.

Good afternoon, Frederic.
Very pleased to meet you.

Mrs. Cross is a friend of Lady Susan
and should be in the adjoining room.

No reason to complain
of Mr. Vernon's reception.

I'm not entirely satisfied with his lady's.

- No?
- No.

She's perfectly well-bred, surprisingly so,

but her manner doesn't persuade me
she was disposed in my favor.

As you might have noticed,
I sought to be as amiable as possible.

Exceptionally amiable.

In fact, entirely charming.
Excuse me for saying so.

Not at all. It's true.

I wanted her to be delighted with me,
but I didn't succeed.

I can't understand it.

It's true I've always detested her

and that before her marriage,
I went to great lengths to prevent it.

Yet, it shows an illiberal spirit

to resent for long
a plan which didn't succeed.

Decidedly illiberal. Not liberal at all.

My opposing her marriage

and then later preventing her and
Charles from buying Vernon Castle

might have given her
an unfavorable impression of me.

But I've noticed that where
there's a disposition to dislike,

a pretext will soon be found.

- You mustn't reproach yourself.
- I shan't.

The past is done.
My project will be the children.

I know a couple of their names already.

And I've decided to attach myself
to young Frederic in particular.

Taking him on my lap and sighing over him
for his dear uncle's sake.

Come in.

Mrs. Vernon's compliments, Your Ladyship.

She asks if you and Mrs. Cross
would join her for tea.

With pleasure.

Mrs. Cross would prefer her repose,
but thank Mrs. Vernon.

I'll join her directly.

Yes, Frederic, I see
you have quite an appetite.

You will grow tall and handsome,
like your uncle and father.

Frederic, be good.

Don't touch that.

Frederic, be careful!

- I'm so... I'm so sorry.
- No, not at all.

Such a family resemblance.
Rather moves me.

You'll want to change.

No, no, let's have our tea
while it's still warm.

Mrs. Cross is a genius with fabrics.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

How much Frederic reminds me
of his dear uncle.

Do you think there's a resemblance?

Remarkable. The eyes.

Weren't Frederic Vernon's eyes brown?

Well, I refer more to the shape
and slope of the brow.

I must thank you for this visit.

I'm afraid the short notice
must have come as a surprise.

Only because I understood you
to be so happily settled at Langford.

It's true Lady Manwaring and her husband
made me feel very welcome,

but their outgoing dispositions
led them so often into society.

I might have tolerated
such a life at one time

but the loss of a husband such as Mr. Vernon
cannot be borne easily.

To stay with you, here,
at your charming retirement

became my fondest wish.

I was happy to have the chance to meet.

Might I confide something?

Langford was not ideal for my daughter.

Her education has been neglected,
for which I fault myself.

Mr. Vernon's illness prevented me
from giving her the attention

that both duty and affection required.

I've therefore placed her
at this excellent school Miss Summers keeps.

I trust Frederica will visit soon.

Well, a visit,
as delightful as that might be,

would represent so many hours and days
deducted from the grand affair of education.

And I'm afraid Frederica
can't afford such deductions.

But she'll come for Christmas?

Alas, no. Miss Summers can only give her
the concentrated attention she requires then.

- I'm so sorry.
- Not at all.

But if you'll excuse me, I'll give it to Mrs.
Cross, who, when rested, craves activity.

Once she's applied her genius to it,

all traces of little Frederic's
interesting design will disappear.

The fees at Frederica's school
are far too high to even think of paying.

So, in a sense, it's an economy.

Yes, well-arrived with her friend Mrs. Cross
and upstairs resting.

I confess to curiosity to know this lady,
see first-hand her bewitching powers.

Is she as beautiful as they say?

- You worry me, Reginald.
- Don't.

I understand Lady Susan possesses
a degree of captivating deceit,

- which might be pleasing to detect.
- You truly worry me.

Good evening.

What charming expressions.

Susan, let me introduce my brother,
Reginald DeCourcy.

Reginald, may I present
Frederic Vernon's widow, Lady Susan,

and her friend, Mrs. Cross.

Delighted to make your acquaintance.
Your renown precedes you.

I'm afraid the allusion escapes me.

Your reputation as
an ornament to our society.

What you say surprises me.

Since the great sadness
of my husband's death,

I've lived in nearly perfect isolation.

To better know his family
and to further remove myself from society,

I came to Churchill.

Not to make new acquaintances
of frivolous sort,

but of course I'm pleased
to know my sister's relations.

I take it you are finding
Mr. DeCourcy's society more pleasurable?

To some degree.

At first, his conversation
betrayed a sauciness and familiarity,

which is my aversion.

But since, I've found
a quality of callow idealism

which rather interests me.

When I've inspired him with greater respect
than his sister's kind offices have allowed,

he might, in fact, be an agreeable flirt.

He's handsome, isn't he?

In a calf-like way.

Not like Manwaring, of course, but...

There's a certain pleasure
in making a person pre-determined to dislike

instead acknowledge one's superiority.

How delightful it will be

to humble the pride
of these pompous DeCourcys.

A letter for you, my dear.

- Letter?
- Yes, from Catherine.

I hope she'll arrive soon.

The season's cheerless without the children.

I'm afraid this cold has affected my eyes.

Save your eyes, my dear. I'll read for you.

- No, that's all right.
- No, I insist.

Here, now.

Let's see.

Catherine hopes you are well

and asks most particularly
that you give me her love.

Yes, and?

Reginald has decided to stay at Churchill
to hunt with Charles.

He cites the fine open weather.

What nonsense. Weather's not open at all.

Well, maybe it is there,
or it was when she wrote.

My dear, could you just read?

- Verbatim?
- Yes, the words.

Some of Catherine's voice will be in them.

I'll read every word, comma and dash
if that's what you wish. Here.

"I grow deeply uneasy, comma,
my dearest Mother, comma,

"about Reginald, comma,

"from witnessing the very rapid increase
in her influence, semi-colon..."

Just the words, please.

No punctuation at all? All right.
That's much easier.

Lady Susan?

Yes, Lady Susan
has been visiting Churchill.

- Lady Susan Vernon?
- Yes.

Well, how could Reginald
engage in conversations

with Lady Susan Vernon?

Conversations which are...

What would they talk about?

My eyes have definitely cleared,
I can read it. Don't trouble yourself.

No, no, no, if my son and heir
is involved with such a lady,

I must trouble myself.

Well, I must go.

No! I'll write.

No, no, no.
If this is happening, there's no time.

- Afternoon, sir.
- Thank you.

One, two...

- Father.
- Afternoon.

How extraordinary for you to be here.

You're in good health, I trust?

How's Mother?

- What brings you to these parts?
- Take a seat.

I won't dissemble and say
I have business in the district.

What I've come about is more important.

What's of such importance?

I know young men don't admit
inquiry into affairs of the heart.

But as the sole son of an ancient family,

you must know that your conduct
is most important to us.

Your happiness, ours,

the credit of the family name,
its very survival...

- Father...
- No, no, no, hear me out.

I know that you'd not deliberately form
an engagement without informing us.

But I can't help fear that you'll
fall into an obligation

which everyone near you must oppose.

What do you mean, sir?

Well, Lady Susan Vernon's age alone...

Father, you astonish me.

What surprises you?

Imputing such ambitions to Lady Susan.

She'd never think of such a thing.

My sole interest has been to enjoy
the lively conversation of a superior lady.

- Catherine's prejudice is so great...
- Prejudice?

Lady Susan's neglect of her late husband,
her extravagance and dissipation,

her encouragement of other men,
were so notorious...

These are vile calumnies.

I could explain each
but would not so dignify them.

I know you spend little time in society.

- None.
- Should you have frequented it more,

you'd know the astonishing degree
of vile, hateful jealousy in our country.

Do not deprecate our country, sir.

I can't prevent you inheriting
the family estate

and my ability to distress you during my life
is not the kind of revenge

that I would choose to take.

- Father, this is unnecessary.
- No, no, let me continue.

A permanent connection between
you and Lady Susan Vernon

would destroy every comfort of our lives.

It would be the death of the honest pride
with which we've always considered you.

We'd blush to see you,
to hear of you, to think of you.

Father.

With the utmost humility,
let me say that what you imagine

is impossible.

Poor Mrs. Cross was obliged to accept
a paid position in Buckinghamshire.

As there was an element
of friendship between us,

I realized the paying of wages
would be offensive to us both.

- You value friendship highly.
- Yes. I hope I was of some help to her.

Your friends don't neglect you.

Thank you, Charles.

It's from Frederica's school.

No.

I can't believe it. It defies comprehension.

What?

Frederica has run away.
She's run away from school.

Heavens. Where to?

- They don't know.
- She's lost?

No. They detected her plan
early enough to intercept her.

Folly, where could
she have thought of going?

Surely here.

No, this is the last place she would come.

I mean, rather...

But she must miss you terribly.

Certainly. I just don't think
Churchill would be her object.

Now... This is outrageous.

Miss Summers requires that
Frederica be removed from school.

Miss Summers must be under the impression

that as a widow without fortune,
I may be bullied.

Evidently, she's forgotten
Frederica is a Vernon.

Well, Charles must put this right.

Confronted with his imposing worth,

even the mistress of a school
must be persuaded to act rightly.

I had no notion of Frederica
being so contrary,

she seemed all Vernon milkiness.

But it confirms the rightness of my plan.

- Did Sir James call?
- Several times.

Excellent.

I followed your instructions,

scolding him roundly
for making love to Maria Manwaring.

He protested that it had only been in joke.

You were right. He's wonderfully silly.

But we must not let Sir James forget
with whom he's in love.

A man so rich and foolish
will not remain single long.

Sir James is so far from
having forgotten the Vernons,

I'm sure he'd marry
either of you in an instant.

I must go back to Churchill.

But I may need your help finding a school
if Miss Summers won't take Frederica back.

Under no circumstances
will I have Frederica at Churchill.

That's wise.

What do you mean?

The nearness of their ages,
her and Reginald's.

- How unkind.
- Forgive me.

Forgiven. The fallacy of youth.

Isn't it rather clear that it is we,
women of decision, who hold the trumps?

Lady Susan? Lady Susan Vernon.

- How dare you address me, sir?
- But Lady Susan...

Be gone, sir! Or I will have you whipped.

Outrageous! Have you never met him?

No, I know him well.
I would never speak to a stranger like that.

I hope you will soon know my friend Alicia.

She's an American,

from the Connecticut branch
of the Delancey family.

Although even the best-bred Americans
don't sound particularly fine,

there's a freshness to her manner
which I find rather tonic.

Her family were treated outrageously
there during the late war,

punished for their very loyalty
to the Crown.

Americans really have shown themselves
to be a nation of ingrates.

Only by having children can one
begin to understand such a dynamic.

Yes.

Susan, I've been looking for you.

The afternoon coach brought this note.

Perhaps Charles has succeeded
with Miss Summers.

It's as I feared.

Miss Summers refuses to keep Frederica.

She says she must think
of her school's reputation.

Preposterous.
I've never heard of her school.

- Could that be them?
- What, Frederica? Here?

Hello, hello. Here we are.

- Is this Frederica?
- Yes.

Allow me to introduce our niece,
charming girl,

Miss Frederica Vernon.

Welcome, Frederica.
We've longed to know you.

My brother, Reginald DeCourcy.

Hello. Pleased to meet you.

Good afternoon, Frederica.

Good afternoon, Mother.

It's as I feared.

Excuse me, I must go to my daughter.

Poor Frederica.

- Poor mother of Frederica.
- What?

The daughter is, I understand,
a troubled girl.

I only saw fear.

She hasn't had tea.
Could be a lack of nourishment.

Where is Frederica?

In our rooms, practicing the pianoforte.

She practices quietly.

Don't look. Frederica's watching us.

- Watching us?
- Through the window. Don't look.

How odd, to be spied upon.

That's the parent's lot.

We bring these delightful
creatures into the world,

eagerly, happily,

and then before long, they are
spying upon and judging us,

rarely favorably.

Having children is our fondest wish,
but in doing so, we breed our acutest critics.

It's a preposterous situation,
but entirely of our own making.

- I marvel at your good humor.
- Well, what alternative have we?

It's the way of the world.
We must accept it with a smile.

Of course, when the little
ones are very small,

there's a kind of sweetness

which partially compensates
for the dreadfulness which comes after.

- You worry for Frederica's future?
- I worry for her present.

Acknowledging that the responsibility
for securing her future rests with me.

Go.

Come on.

- Pretty? You think so?
- Yes.

- You don't?
- No, I would not have said that.

But in any case, beauty matters little.

It's vivacity and a lively intelligence
one looks for,

even from the young.

I'm sorry. Please excuse me.

- I beg your pardon.
- What is it, my dear?

He's here. He is here. Sir James is here.

- Who?
- I'm so sorry.

Please excuse me.

Frederica...

So sorry to come like this.

I suppose you weren't expecting me.

Sir James, allow me
to introduce my sister-in-law,

Mrs. Catherine Vernon,
and her brother, Mr. Reginald DeCourcy.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

How kind of you to ask. Excellent.

Truly very well, thank you.

Excuse my hurry in coming.

The lack of notice beforehand,
et cetera, et cetera.

Truth is, I forgot to write.

Then it was too late, now I'm here.

Took the liberty of a relation.
Hoping to be one soon.

I must say, you looked surprised.
You were astonished to see me.

No? Not? Well, that's how it looked.

Yes, I was astonished and I still am.

An impressive establishment
you have here, sir.

My congratulations. Immaculate.

- Mr. DeCourcy is Mrs. Vernon's brother.
- Very good.

It's her husband, Charles Vernon,
who has Churchill.

Churchill?

That's how you say it?

All together like that? "Churchill."

Well, that explains a lot.

You see, I'd heard "church" and "hill,"
but couldn't find either.

All I could see was this big house.

Fine name. Churchill.

Marlborough, right? The general?

Showed the French. You must be very proud.

No connection.

But I believe I have heard it spoken of.

I think you mentioned it. Churchill.

Yes, I think you did,

but again, I heard "church" and "hill"
and I couldn't see either.

But I realize I was in mistake

and now stand corrected.

Happens quite a lot.

Reginald, would you be so kind
as to take Sir James to see Charles?

I think you'll find Charles very well-versed

in the advanced agricultural methods
in which you've taken such an interest.

Yes!

Advanced agricultural methods,
very much so.

Collins, who supervises Martindale for me,
speaks of them often.

A landowner of the current day
must know all sorts of things.

That is our role.

"Hello, Collins!" I say.

"What advanced agricultural methods
have we today?"

Excellent.

There you are.

Are you asleep?

- No, Mama.
- Well, what, then?

You were hiding from me. Please explain.

No.

My strange girl.

- What were you up to back there?
- What?

Rushing out
before Sir James entered the room.

I couldn't bear to see him.

"Couldn't bear."
Ungenerous manner of speech.

Frederica, dear,

Sir James Martin is
a kind-hearted young man

whose only offense seems to be wanting
to provide you with a life of comfort.

Have you nothing to say?

Dear, our present comfortable state
is of the most precarious sort.

We don't live, we visit.

We're entirely at the mercy
of our friends and relations,

as we discovered so painfully at Langford.

Now, here, you seem
to have won your aunt's affections.

I think I served you well there,
for I believe she'd do anything to spite me.

But such a dynamic cannot continue forever.

- But Mama...
- "But Mama."

I will not always be here
for you to contradict me.

If a life of comfort such as Sir James
has to offer is not to your taste,

what will you do?

How will you live?

- I could teach.
- Teach!

Had you been more in school,
you would not consider such a thing.

Answer this.
When Our Lord wrote his Commandments,

which did he consider so important
that he put it in the fourth position?

The fourth position?

Yes. The Fourth Commandment.

I know the Commandments,
but not their order.

See? This is what comes
of an irregular education.

Yes, the Fourth Commandment.

"Thou shalt not..."

No, it's not a "shalt not." It's a "shalt".

- "Thou shalt"?
- If I had not myself been present,

I would wonder if I were even your mother.

"Honor thy father and mother."

I'm sorry.

Have I done anything
that's dishonored you or Father?

"To honor" means, among other things,

to listen with respect
to a parent's sincere counsel.

I do listen with respect, Mama. It's just...

If you will not pay attention to me,
then perhaps you will to a larger imperative.

The law of the universe.

An offer as splendid as Sir James's
is not likely to come around again.

He has offered you
the one thing he has of value to give,

his income.

I fear and reproach myself,
having shielded you for far too long.

Had I let you starve a little bit more,
you would resist much less.

Mama, I was often hungry at school.

Evidently not hungry enough.

In any case, the starvation of the school
house is nothing like that of the destitute.

- Is that what you want?
- No.

I can see Sir James is a kind man

and if it weren't a matter of marriage,
I'm sure I could like him.

But marriage is for one's whole life.

Not in my experience.

Meanwhile, I must ask you not to speak

to your aunt and uncle about this matter
or seek their interference in any way.

I insist. Promise?

- Remember the Commandment.
- Yes.

Sir James's arrival and its suddenness
requires some explanation.

You were not too surprised, I hope?

It was unexpected.

Certainly. To me as much as anyone.

I'm afraid Sir James's best qualities
are not immediately apparent.

- Certainly, he's no Solomon.
- Solomon?

The wise king in the Bible,

who had the idea of dividing the infant
disputed by two mothers in half.

Or in two. I don't recall the exact wording.

Yes, of course.

So, Sir James is no Solomon.

How many suitors of great wisdom

can a young woman
expect to find these days?

- I don't know.
- None!

And, I confess, I ask myself,

is such a quality
even desirable in a husband?

How jolly! Tiny green balls.

Yes. Good-tasting. Quite sweet.

What are they called?

- Peas.
- Yes. No, I knew that.

I recall now.

I must get Collins
to cultivate these at Martindale.

Novelty vegetables.

Could make quite a packet.

Tiny.

I'm enjoying Sir James's visit.

His conversation is lively,
brings a new angle to things.

What would you think if I took him
to see the Fredericksville farm?

He mentioned that he had an interest
in agricultural methods.

Yes.

Frederic, be careful.

Frederic, you must try to be good.

He's utterly ridiculous.

- Well, certainly he's no Solomon but...
- Solomon?

The wise king from the Bible.
I know he's not that.

But any man navigating
the cascades of romantic courtship

and occasionally falling into those foaming
waters is apt not to appear at his best.

What?

A simple word, Reginald. "Comprehension."

I admire your cast of mind,

but I think you're not entirely sensible

at the degree
to which you can intimidate others.

Particularly a young man
over whom you have every advantage

of position, looks and character.

Sir James Martin is a fool because of me?

Yes. Around you, he seems very silly.

- Isn't he silly around everyone?
- No.

I believe he's given everyone
the same impression.

Well, they've only seen him around you.

But you deny Sir James's intentions
toward you?

- Toward me?
- He's clearly besotted with you.

No, it's with Frederica he's smitten.

- That's not possible.
- Well, he's proposed to her.

How could such a blockhead
even be allowed to court your daughter?

It's incomprehensible.

This is the incomprehension
of the rich and easeful.

You can afford to take the high ground
and add another layer to your pride.

If you realized the full extent
of ridiculous manhood

a young girl without fortune must endure,

you'd be more generous to Sir James.

It was so good you could steal away.

We can only meet through such subterfuges.

Mr. Johnson is relentless.
I will not be sent back to Connecticut.

I don't see why he believes
that association with me

would lower your reputation.

But a question.

Did Sir James mention to you
any plans to come to Churchill?

Heavens, no. What folly.

How did Mr. DeCourcy react?

Well, I had some gratification there.

At first he observed Sir James
with an attention not untinged with jealousy,

but it was impossible to really torture him,

for I had to finally reveal
that his object was Frederica.

Then he was all astonishment.

Left to ourselves, I had no great difficulty
in convincing him I was justified.

I don't remember the exact reasoning,
but it was all comfortably arranged.

So what's your verdict on young DeCourcy?

Well, he's not stupid
and he has a great deal to say,

but I can't help but look
with a certain contempt

on the fancies of a heart so doubting
the reasonableness of its own emotions.

I vastly prefer
the generous spirit of a Manwaring

who, deeply convinced of one's merit,
is satisfied that whatever one does is right.

I know that no one really deserves you,
but young DeCourcy might be worth having.

Excuse me, Frederica.

When I came down this morning,

I couldn't help but notice
you were reading a book.

Which book was that?

This volume of Cowper's verse.

Cowper, the poet?

He also writes verse? Most impressive.

Yes, he's versatile that way.

So, Frederica,
you read both verse and poetry?

In this, I believe, you take after your
mother, who knows a great many things.

Just yesterday, she cited to me
a story from the Bible

about a very wise king.

This reminded me of many such
accounts one learns in childhood.

Perhaps the most significant
in forming one's principles

is that of the old prophet

who came down from the mount with tablets
bearing the Twelve Commandments,

which Our Lord has taught us
to obey without fail.

Twelve Commandments?

Excuse me, but I believe
there were only ten.

Really?

Only ten must be obeyed? Excellent!

Well, then, which two to take off?

Perhaps the one about the Sabbath.
I prefer to hunt.

- Well...
- After that, it becomes tricky.

Many of the thou-shalt-nots, don't murder,
don't covet thy neighbor's house or wife,

one simply wouldn't do anyway.

Because they are wrong,

whether the Lord allows us
to take them off or not.

It's so kind of you.

No, delighted. Honored. My pleasure.

Would you like me to sign a note?

No. No documents. No note necessary.

All in the family or hoping to be soon.

And the carriage?

Yes, the carriage. Definitely. Certainly.

My pleasure. Honored.

Hello.

- Good day.
- Good day.

Do you know
where I might find your mother?

I believe she has gone out.

Gone out?

Are you all right?

What is it?

Tell me, what's wrong?

Please say.

Sir, I...

I do not know to whom I can apply.

What is it? Please, tell me.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.

It's just that you're the only one
I think Mother might listen to.

Why would you say that?

Well, she pays no one such regard
as she does you, except Lord Manwaring.

What do you mean, Manwaring?

No. I'm sorry.

It's just that of all the people,
I thought Mother would listen most to you.

Let me understand this.

It's that you find Sir James's presence
and courtship of you unwelcome.

If his presence here disturbs you,

it's to Charles and my sister
you should apply.

I promised Mother I would not.

I don't understand.
Why would you promise that?

She required it.

What did she require?

What?

These silences are vexing.

Mama forbade it.

I don't understand.

I promised not to speak
to my aunt and uncle on this subject.

- For what possible reason?
- It's wrong of me to speak now,

and I'd not have
if I weren't at my wit's end.

But I can't marry Sir James.

To what do you object?

Well, you must have noticed.
He's very silly.

- But besides that?
- Besides that?

Yes, I confess the first impression
he made on me was also indifferent.

But don't those knowledgeable
of such matters

consider Sir James a good catch?

Or "match" or whatever it is they say?

A man of cheerful temperament,

happy to devote a large income
to a wife's comfort.

I would rather work for my bread.

But what could you do?

- I could teach. I could...
- Teach?

Yes.

Must've been very little in school
to think that.

Tell me, how did this happen?

Your mother is a woman
of excellent understanding.

Her concern for you is great,
though wise and clear-eyed.

How could she be
as mistaken as you suggest,

if you truly despise Sir James?

I don't despise Sir James.
And I'm sure he's a kind man.

And he has a charm, of a kind,
and certainly he is likeable.

And I'm sure I could like him
if he were a cousin

or a cousin's cousin
or a friend or a friend's friend

or an in-law or a step-something.

I just don't want to marry him.

Come. Tell me the particulars.

If they are as you say,
I can't for the world imagine

your mother would remain
deaf to your wishes.

Thank you.

Catherine.
I'd like to thank you for this visit.

- You're leaving?
- Yes, I must.

Why?

As you've said, it's important at this
season one of us be with our parents.

- You've just decided this now?
- Yes, but before going, I must ask one thing.

I'd be grateful if you could see
justice is done Frederica.

She's a sweet girl
who deserves a better fate.

- I'm glad you now see her worth.
- Yes.

My eyes have opened to many things.

Aunt.

- I did something very wrong.
- I'm sure not.

No, I did.
And now he and my mother have quarreled.

He is to leave and it is my fault.
Mama will never forgive me.

Don't worry.

If any of what you fear comes to pass,
I'll happily intercede.

Good afternoon, Catherine.

That cough of young Frederic's worries me.

I have from London
some of Dr. Preston's excellent lozenges.

- Would you like them for the dear boy?
- Yes. Thank you.

Also, is it true that
we're losing Mr. DeCourcy today?

Yes, it seems that we will.

How remarkable.

When he and I spoke barely an hour ago,
he made no mention of it.

But perhaps he did not then know himself.

Young men are so impetuous
in their resolutions.

I wouldn't say Reginald is impetuous.

Yes, he is.
He's like other young men that way.

Hasty in making resolutions
and then just as quick to unmake them.

I would not be surprised
if he were to change his mind and stay.

- He seemed quite decided.
- Well, we'll see.

Some strangeness also seems
to be affecting Frederica.

I believe the girl's actually fallen in love,
with your brother the object.

Sir, Lady Susan asked
if she might have a word with you.

She asked if you'd be so kind
as to visit her in her dressing room.

Come in.

I beg your pardon for calling you here, sir,

but I've just learned
of your intention to leave today.

- Is that true?
- Yes, it is.

You may close the door.

I entreat you not, on my account,
to shorten your visit by even an hour.

Well...

I'm perfectly aware that after
what has passed between us,

it would ill-suit either of us
to remain in the same house

but it is I who should go.

No. Why?

My visit has already been
inconvenient for your family.

For me to stay risks dividing a clan
affectionately attached to one another.

Where I go is of little consequence,

whereas your presence is important to all.

It was terrifying
how close I came to destruction.

It all started with Frederica,
in the grip of a madness of some kind,

entreating Reginald
to intercede on her behalf,

as if I was some kind of unkind mother,
not wanting the best for her child.

Next, Reginald appeared at my rooms
with an expression of the utmost solemnity

to inform me of the impropriety

of allowing Sir James Martin
to court Frederica.

I tried to joke him out of it
but he refused to be.

Heavens. Is he really so pompous?

The pomposity I assume.

But it was his disloyalty which outraged me.

If he held me in true regard,

he would not believe
such insinuations in my disfavor.

A worthy lover should assume one has
unanswerable motives for all one does.

Certainly.

Scarcely an hour had gone by

when I learned that Reginald
was leaving Churchill.

Well, something had to be done.

Condescension was necessary,
though I abhor it.

I sent for Reginald.

When he appeared,
he seemed astonished at the summons

and he seemed as though
he were half-fearing, half-wishing

to be softened by what I might say.

The outcome justifies
some portion of vanity, my dear,

for the effect was no less favorable
than immediate.

You brilliant creature.

So, now I have many tasks.

I must punish Frederica
for her application to Reginald

and punish him for receiving it
so favorably.

And I must make myself serious amends

for the humiliations
I've been obliged to undergo.

- Manwaring's in town.
- Manwaring. How is he, the divine man?

Absolutely miserable about you
and jealous of DeCourcy.

To such a degree I can't answer for
his not committing some great imprudence

- such as following you to Churchill.
- Heavens.

I think I've dissuaded him from it.

If you do follow my advice
and marry DeCourcy,

it will be indispensable
for you to get Manwaring out of the way.

Only you have the influence
to send him home.

And by remaining in town, I'll be able
to reward a long penance at Churchill

with a little welcome dissipation.

Madam, Lord Manwaring has arrived
and begs to be admitted.

Please ask him to wait.

Miss Vernon.

It's so good to see you here.
Might I help you?

Yes.

A friend was asking how,
in accord with Christian teaching,

the Fourth Commandment should be honored?

The Fourth Commandment? Yes.
"Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy."

No. I meant the Commandment
"Honor thy mother and father."

The Fifth Commandment. My favorite.

It's the Church of Rome
that has it as the Fourth.

Yes, the Fifth Commandment.

"Honor thy father and thy mother

"that thy days may be long upon the land
which the Lord, thy God, giveth thee."

Beautiful, profound.

I believe one should apply
this sentiment of gratitude and loyalty

to every aspect of our lives.

We are not born into a savage wilderness
but into a beautiful mansion of the Lord,

that the Lord, and those who have gone
before us, have constructed.

We must avoid neglecting this mansion,
but rather glorify and preserve it,

as we should all of the Lord's creation.

The superb Baumgarten
has outlined this aesthetic trinity

as beauty, truth and good.

Truth is the perfect, perceived by reason,

beauty by the senses
and the good by moral will.

From where do you come?

Church.

Why were you in church?

Well, it is our religion.

Yes, but this time of day,
neither morning prayer nor vespers.

The sky had clouded over.
I was sure there would be a downpour.

There was.

You are quite drenched!
You must get into some dry clothes.

Excuse me.

- Dearest, welcome.
- Mother.

- What joy your letter gave us.
- I wrote too hastily.

What?

I couldn't imagine
that every expectation I had

- would be dashed so quickly.
- You frighten me.

Poor girl. Her one chance to break free.

Who knows what punishment
her mother will now impose?

But Reginald can't be blind
to such a lovely girl.

He's become blind.

Reginald is more securely
Lady Susan's than ever.

Please don't tell your father.
I worry for his constitution.

Tell me what?

Susan, stop!

Dreadful news. Mr. Johnson's been cured.

How is that possible?

No sooner had he heard you were in London
than he had a cure.

Well, then could you do me
the greatest favor?

Could you go to Seymour Street
and receive Reginald there?

I dare not risk his and Manwaring's meeting.

Keep him with you all evening, if you can.
Make up anything.

- Good day for it.
- Cheers.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you,
but didn't I provide a charming substitute?

It's strange.

You remain silent but Mrs. Johnson
couldn't stop singing your praises.

Excuse me?

I fear Alicia's rather fallen in love
with you. It's given me quite a scare.

You're joking.

But you did like her?

Of course.

I so admire Alicia.

She has none of the uncouthness
one expects from Americans

but all of the candor.

Her husband, Mr. Johnson,
is older and rather disagreeable

but a word of complaint
never drops from Alicia's lips.

Exemplary.

Only by one's friends
can one truly be known.

That Alicia is mine will, I hope,
help you think better of me.

I already thought well of you.

You were not plagued by doubt?

Some things disconcerted me.
That you were not here...

Please, Reginald, don't be severe.
I can't support reproaches.

- But...
- No, I entreat you. I can't support them.

My absence was to arrange a matter
so that we could be together.

I'm forbidden to say more.
Please don't reproach me.

- Have you considered what I asked?
- I have,

and I believe that our affairs
require a caution and delicacy

that perhaps, in our candid enthusiasm,
we might have insufficiently heeded.

What do you mean?

I fear that our feelings
have hurried us to a degree

which is in ill accord
with the views of the world.

- I'm sure, in time...
- Perhaps, with time,

but given the poignancy of our feelings...

- You no longer wish to marry?
- No!

No, all I'm saying or...

Or hesitantly suggesting is that
we postpone an open understanding,

until the opinion of the world
is more in accord with our inclinations.

- That could mean never.
- No, no.

Perhaps months.

I confess that such delay
is against my every inclination.

- Then let's...
- No, Reginald.

I will not be responsible
for dividing your family.

I thought we'd decided.

I know, such delay is insupportable,
especially when we're both in London.

With separations, only those that are also
geographical can reasonably be tolerated.

- What?
- I'm sorry, Reginald,

but staying in London
would be the death of our reputations.

We must not meet.

And not to meet, we must not be near.

As cruel as it may seem,
the necessity of it must be evident to you.

Where will you go?

Of course, it's necessary
that I remain in London.

There are arrangements that I must make
for us to be together.

But on the contrary,
I know your family crave your company.

Particularly that elderly gentleman
to whom you owe so much.

I would hate to be
the cause of an éloignement

between you and your father,

who, forgive me, might not have long left.

There's no reason for worry that I know of.
Father's rather in his prime.

Thank heavens.

So he's not in decline?

He has the usual aches and pains
but is overall, I believe, in good health.

In any case, he'd not want
any concern on that account,

which he'd consider so much rubbish.

Mortality.

Our mortality and that of others,

but most particularly our own

is the hardest and most intractable hand
life can deal us.

I long to meet the dear gentleman.

Of course, it's natural that
he would want to ignore or minimize

- the cold, sad end that awaits us all.
- Not at all.

Father's a Christian, for whom the prospect
of the end is neither sad nor cold.

Yes.

Well, thank heaven for our religion.

So important in this life
and most especially in the next.

Must we really wait?

I entreat you to reconsider.

Lady Manwaring.

Excuse me, I'm in such a state.

I don't know what to say.

Is Mr. Johnson at home?
I must speak with my guardian!

Yes, of course, you poor dear.
I'll let him know you're here.

Lucy Manwaring's here to see you.

- Mr. Johnson!
- Lucy, please go in.

- You must help!
- Dear Lucy, please.

You must help me. Manwaring's left!

Madam. Mr. DeCourcy.

- Good day.
- Mr. DeCourcy.

What a surprise to see you.
So kind of you to call.

I must thank you for last evening,
for setting matters right.

Lady Susan's explained everything.
I'm ashamed to have spoken as I did.

- It was foolish of me.
- No, no, not at all. Most sympathetic.

But you did not have to come to thank me,
courtesy did not dictate it.

In fact, it's not my sole motive.

Lady Susan has entrusted me
with a letter for you.

"Strictly private"? How intriguing.

Has an animal been injured?

No, private theatricals. Medea.
They perform next week

but prefer not to be watched rehearsing.

Thanks again for the charming evening.

She's with him now!
This can't continue! It mustn't!

Lucy, please. Don't.
Stay here, rest. Recover your equanimity.

Equanimity? They're together now!

I implore you, come with me,
talk with Manwaring, reason with him!

As my guardian, won't you help?

Even if I found them,
what good could be done?

Yes, heed Mr. Johnson. His counsel
is excellent in such matters.

What have you? A letter?

- In her hand?
- Return that letter, madam!

- It's not for you!
- Lucy, no.

- Stop!
- Excuse me!

Madam!

I believe you were on the verge
of making a grave error.

You are Lady Manwaring?
Lady Manwaring of Langford?

You've recognized your friend Lady Susan
Vernon's hand and assumed the letter's for you.

You think that lady is my friend?
She is with my husband now.

As we speak, he visits her!

That's not possible, madam.
I've just left her, she is entirely alone.

Even her servant sent off.

Owen!

Owen, come here, stand here!

Tell this gentleman what you've seen.

- No, Your Ladyship...
- Repeat to him what you told me.

Well, sir, Lady Susan sent her servant away
and then you left.

And a few minutes later,
Lord Manwaring arrived

and was received by Her Ladyship.

- Alone?
- Yes, sir, I believe so.

No one else came or went.

No, stop!
The letter's for Mrs. Johnson only!

Here.

"I send Reginald with this letter.

"Keep him there all evening if you can.

"Manwaring comes this very hour."

That's not possible.

I must stop this! Please, sir, come with me.

What could possibly be gained?
It could even be dangerous.

This is a matter for your solicitors.

Mrs. Johnson, this is beyond
what I could have imagined.

You promised that you would give up
all contact with this woman.

I have no idea what she writes.
She's gone mad.

I'm sorry to say, my dear,
that I hear the Atlantic passage

is very cold at this time of year.

- Madam.
- Agonies, my dear.

- What's happened?
- The worst.

- Disaster.
- Disaster?

Mr. DeCourcy arrived
just when he shouldn't have.

Lucy Manwaring had just forced herself
into Mr. Johnson's study to sob her woes.

Has she no pride? No self-respect?

What an impression she makes,

bursting from Mr. Johnson's library,
wailing like a struck child.

Seeing the letter in your handwriting,
she tore it from Reginald to read aloud.

- No!
- Yes.

"Manwaring comes this very hour."

- And Reginald heard that?
- He read it himself.

How ungentlemanly.

It's shocking. I can't believe it.

Yes, very shocking.

A gentleman, entrusted with
correspondence marked "private,"

reads it regardless and then,
because of a few confidential remarks,

the obloquy is mine?
And who has acted badly in this affair?

Only you and I stand innocent
of reading other people's correspondence.

Unluckily, Lady Manwaring
also wormed out of her husband's servant

that Manwaring visited you in private.

Facts are horrid things.

Don't worry.
I'll make my story good with Reginald.

He'll be a little enraged at first

but I vow that by dinner tomorrow,
all will be well.

I'm not sure.
He was with Mr. Johnson when I left.

Forgive me for saying it,

but I dread to imagine
what's being said in your disfavor.

What a mistake you made
marrying Mr. Johnson.

Too old to be governable, too young to die.

Good afternoon, madam.

Of course it might seem
outlandish or shocking to others.

But we're not expecting others
to read our correspondence

and don't put things for their benefit.

Manwaring only visited me
as his wife's friend.

Friend? She herself denies this.

Well, of course.
I was her friend when she was sane.

Her great enemy since.

Manwaring left Langford
to escape her deranged suspicions.

In granting him an interview, my sole
motive was to persuade him to return to her

and see what might be done
to ease the poor woman's mind.

Yes, but why alone?

Why did you arrange to see him alone?

You cannot divine the motive there?
Servants have ears,

with the unfortunate tendency to repeat
whatever they imagine they've heard.

I dreaded injuring
the poor woman's reputation still further.

You imagine I could accept
such an explanation?

I can only tell you what I know to be true.

- Did you succeed?
- What?

Did you convince Manwaring
to return to his wife?

Yes, I did.

But it seems that her judgment
is too deteriorated to allow it.

Her jealous and suspicious condition
is not one that will allow reassurance.

You forget, I saw the letter
with my own eyes.

No, I do not forget. I greatly resent it.

A fault you compounded by misinterpreting
what you should never have seen.

Do you think I would have confided
a letter to a third party

if I thought its contents
in any way dangerous?

Have I not already explained everything

which the ill nature of the world
could interpret to my discredit?

What could so stagger
your esteem for me now?

After all we've discussed
and meant to one another,

that you could doubt my actions,
my intentions, my word.

I'm sorry, Reginald,
but I've reflected upon this deeply.

I cannot marry a man
with an untrusting disposition.

- I cannot have it.
- What?

We cannot marry.

Whatever commitment
was between us is severed,

any connection impossible.

What are you saying?

Mistrust does not bode well for any union.

I have a great regard for you.

Yes, a passionate one, but I must master it.

Catherine! Catherine!

- Reginald's returned.
- He's here?

He's just gone to find your father.

- It's not...
- No, no.

No, the most happy news.

- Our fears were in vain.
- What?

- The engagement's off.
- How?

Well, Lady Susan broke it off herself.

She did?

Reginald's most cast down
but I'm sure he'll soon recover

and, dare we hope, cast his look elsewhere.

That woman's a fiend.

- What do you mean?
- Lady Susan.

She has an uncanny understanding
of men's natures.

By forcing the rupture herself,
she's engaged Reginald's pride.

Uncanny? I don't understand.

Reginald will start to doubt everything
he's heard to her detriment.

A guilty regret will overwhelm him

and slowly, surely,
he'll convince himself he's wronged her.

- You frighten me.
- Yes.

If Frederic Vernon,
renowned for his good sense,

let Lady Susan ruin him,
what chance has Reginald?

You speak as if your brother were not wise.
I'm sure he is.

Everyone comments
on his lively understanding.

You are the best of mothers

but Reginald has
just the sort of sincere nature

most vulnerable to a woman of her genius.

- You think she's a genius?
- Diabolically so.

Like the serpent in Eden's Garden.

Does this woman always get her way?

From what I understand,
only clever tradesmen are astute enough

to see through her stratagems.

Several banded together to send their agents
to intercept her on Seymour Street,

obliging her to pawn the last of her jewels.

Slay the fatted calf, my dear.
The prodigal's returned.

What's wrong, my boy?

The joy of seeing
your aged parents eludes you.

- Don't tease him, Father.
- It's a father's right.

You'll have him fleeing back to London.

No risk of that, I assure you.
London holds no charm for me.

You've realized that? Good.
Never appealed to me at all.

Dirty, noisy, noxious gases, soot.

I don't see the point of towns.

Far better to live on one's own land.
Everyone should.

I'm afraid this relates to my sister-in-law.

Yes, sister.
Congratulations on your entire vindication.

On the contrary,
I don't see you out of danger at all.

- I assuredly am.
- What's all this about?

What's happening? I don't understand.

Reginald, dear,
Frederica has prepared a charming piece.

Help me persuade her to sing it for us.

No. You are too kind, Lady DeCourcy.
I am not ready.

Excuse me, Miss Vernon, Mother.
As much as I'd like to,

I'm afraid I am too tired
to be a suitable audience.

So, if you'll excuse me...

No, you must stay. Frederica's a songbird.

Never heard anything like it.
Don't deny us this pleasure, my dear.

- Reginald, we need you to insist.
- Well, as I said...

No, I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

You must play it, my dear. Please.

The Kentish Nightingale, I call her.

Voice is remarkable, even to my hearing.

She must have it from her mother's side.

Lady Susan's voice is a clear,
natural soprano. Lovely.

Beautiful.

It is, is it?

Do you expect visitors, Mother?

No, who would visit us?

Look who's come from London.
What an agreeable surprise.

Excuse me for arriving this way.

What a delightful family pose.

Yes, it is the season for families to unite,
so especially welcome to have you here.

Thank you, Charles.

I do hope that recognizing
a mother's anxiety to see her child,

you might excuse my abruptness.

Nothing to excuse.
Sir Reginald, Lady DeCourcy,

might I introduce my sister-in-law,
Lady Susan Vernon.

Please forgive this intrusion.

Now that I'm fixed in town,
I can't rest with Frederica away.

- Isn't such anxiety new?
- Yes, it is, I entirely agree,

but now I'm in London,

where the instruction Frederica needs
can so readily be found.

- Her voice has some promise.
- Some? She's a veritable songbird.

- The Kentish Nightingale, I call her.
- Do you?

Is this really Kent? Delightful.

You are right, sir,
Frederica has the native talent a bird might,

but those few notes can get repetitive.

But Mama, couldn't I stay?

"But Mama, couldn't I stay?"

Charming. I thank you, dear sister,

for making Frederica feel so at home
and welcome wherever she goes.

I've secured you a lesson
with Signor Voltroni.

Where the grand affair
of education is concerned,

there's no excuse for half-measures.

Isn't it key, sir, to cultivate her voice?

- A nightingale, didn't you say?
- Yes, that's right.

- The Kentish Nightingale, I call her.
- Delightful appellation.

And perhaps with a teacher
such as Signor Voltroni,

it could even become true.

- Frederica, have you your things?
- Leave for London now?

We'd so looked forward
to having Frederica with us.

How remarkable. Only a few weeks ago,

it was hard to find anywhere for Frederica.
Now the world fights for her company.

- Astonishing.
- Astonishing that she was neglected then

or is fought over now?

An excellent observation, dear sister,
but I will stop now,

because I know how my daughter
hates to be praised.

How are you, sir? I hope well.

We should go.

Excuse me, Mama, I must collect my things.

Yes, you must.

We cannot buy a new wardrobe
for each displacement.

The poor girl. Did you see her face?

I must talk to her, remind her
that she'll always have a home with us.

Or with us.

If you are referring to the past,

I doubt her mother
will again risk misinterpretation.

Henceforth, we can rest assured
that Lady Susan will make clear to Frederica

the consideration and affection
which guide her actions.

I have not gone to the trouble
of retrieving Frederica

from Parklands to again be thwarted.

Maria Manwaring may sob,
Frederica may whimper

and the Vernons may storm

but Sir James will be Frederica's
husband before the winter's out.

- You brilliant creature.
- Thank you, my dear.

I am done submitting my will
to the caprices of others.

Of resigning my own judgment
in deference to those

to whom I owe no duty
and have very little respect.

Too easily have I let my resolve weaken.

Frederica shall know the difference.

You're too indulgent with the girl.

Why let Frederica have him
when you could grab him yourself?

- Sir James?
- Yes, I know your unselfish nature,

but can you afford
to bestow Sir James on Frederica

while having no Sir James of your own?

Madam, Mr. Johnson sends word
he returns to dine.

- Thank you.
- Are you insulting me?

The opposite.

I don't doubt your ability
to get DeCourcy whenever you want him.

But is he really worth having?

Isn't his father just the sort
of enraging old man

who will live forever?
And how will you survive?

On the allowance that Frederica,
as Lady Martin, might grant you?

As guests at Churchill?

I'd rather be married to my own husband
than dependent on the hospitality of others.

We must protect her,
not just for her own sake,

but for her dear late father's.

What can we do?

We must find the argument
to persuade her mother

it's in her best interest,
which of course is her only guide.

That will mean a trip to London.

Fortunately, Charles must have
some business there to justify such a trip.

What a marvelous husband
you have, my dear.

Charles seems to live to oblige.

It's true. I've been lucky.

Charles always seems
to have some pretext or other

for doing just what's wanted.

Dearest. I believe you have
pressing business in London.

Yes.

Frederica?

You're so kind to visit.
Frederica will be delighted.

And how are the children?
Especially my dear Frederic.

Very well, thank you.

Frederica, come and see who's here!

I can't express my gratitude
for the hospitality you've extended us.

- Not at all. Our great pleasure.
- Hello, Frederica.

Good afternoon, my dear. I hope you're well.

Thank you.

It is so good to see you.

Frederica, why don't you go upstairs
and play a piece?

Select something charming to show
your aunt and uncle what you've studied.

With pleasure.

You'll see the strides she's been making.

Do mind your head.

Frederica plays all the new music.
Haydn, Himmel, Bernardini, Cherubini.

Do sit down.

So you're happy
with the progress she's making?

Yes. Only in a city such as London

I believe could she have had
such instruction.

Well, if Frederica is making
such good progress in London,

that complicates matters.

What complication would that be?

We'd hoped that Frederica
might return to Churchill.

She is greatly missed,
especially by the little ones.

What a moving sentiment of cousinly regard.

But my concern, my obligation

is to see the defects
in Frederica's education repaired.

Could we invite one
of her teachers to Churchill,

- to continue her lessons there?
- What a kind thought.

But these are London's
most sought-after masters.

No invitation to a country retreat,
even such a delightful one as Churchill,

would be in their power to accept.

Perhaps a private tutor, then?

Might I confess something?

Frederica and I have become
such great friends,

it would be hard for me to part with her.

You might have noticed that for a time,
there was a strange tension between us.

That has now happily disappeared.

Excuse me, are you well?

Sorry, we so set our hearts
on Frederica's return.

I understand completely.

She's become an agreeable companion.

Even her tendency to extreme quiet
I've grown to find rather soothing.

But there is one factor that concerns me.

- Does she look quite well?
- Yes.

That was your impression?

London's vaporous air is not,
I think, healthy for her.

- Does she not seem pale?
- She does.

The London air, these smoky gases,
cannot be salutary for her.

Fresh country air is what the young require.

Yes. How curious they are.

Does not the town's dank air
favor the spread of influenza?

- The influenza, in London?
- Several cases have been reported.

It is after all the season for it.

Of all the disorders in the world,

risk of influenza contagion is the one
I dread the most for Frederica's constitution.

Shouldn't we consider, then,
removing her from this danger?

What you say does give me pause.

But it would be such a hardship
to lose my daughter's companionship

just when I've grown to rely on it.

And, of course, her studies.

Congratulate me, my dear.

Frederica's aunt and uncle
have taken her back to Churchill.

I thought you'd grown to enjoy
Frederica's company so.

Well, comparatively. A bit.

But I am not so self-indulgent

as to want to wallow
in the companionship of a child.

Alas, I fear this is our last meeting,

at least while Mr. Johnson is alive.

His business at Hartford
has become extensive.

If I continue to see you, he vows
to settle in Connecticut forever.

You could be scalped!

I had a feeling that the great word
"respectable" would someday divide us.

Your husband I abhor
but we must yield to necessity.

Our affection cannot be impaired by it
and in happier times,

when your situation is as independent
as mine, we will again unite.

For this I will impatiently wait.

I also.

May Mr. Johnson's next gouty attack
end more favorably.

Thank you.

Do you know where Frederica is?
Lady Susan's written to her.

Frederica?

Frederica.

A letter from your mother.

Thank you, Aunt Catherine.
What does she say?

Well, she's written to you herself.

My mother and Sir James Martin have wed.

What? How could that happen?

How could they possibly marry?

To what do you refer?
Both were free to do so.

He a bachelor, Susan a widow.

Sir James Martin is a fool.

Well, a bit of a rattle, perhaps.

"A bit of a rattle"?
He's a complete blockhead.

Well, there are three
possible explanations, as I see it.

First, perhaps Sir James
has more merit than we've allowed.

No.

Well, second, perhaps in order
to secure your future, Frederica,

your mother thought it necessary
to make a prudent match herself.

That could be the case.

Mama has always been concerned
for my future.

And the third possible explanation?

That she came to love him.

Well, there is a saying,

"The heart has its strangeness,"
or words to that effect.

The heart is an instrument we possess
but do not truly know.

Human love partakes of the divine,
or at least it has in my case.

You'll find it in the writings of Rousseau.

Julie, Or The New Heloise, I think.

I will confirm the citation
if you're interested.

I just find it incomprehensible
that so brilliant a woman

could marry such a pea-brain, or peas-brain.

It happens all the time.

It strains credulity.

Certainly, as you've said,
Sir James is no Solomon,

but if he can give Lady Susan
the happiness and security

which the sad events
of recent years deprived her of,

then he is someone
that I and all of us should value.

I very much agree, Uncle. We all should.

I wish them every happiness
in their life together.

Congratulations, sir,
on a match I long favored.

There's a rightness to your being together.

Not that any man could really
deserve Lady Susan.

I agree most heartily.

And I've pleasure in adding
that double congratulations are in order.

What?

The most beautiful woman in England,
present company excepted,

will soon be the most beautiful mother.

Yes, I'm to be a father.

Marvelous!

You certainly don't delay matters.

Congratulations, sir.

Yes. The very morning after the wedding,

Lady Susan hinted at the happy news,
which was shortly confirmed.

How truly marvelous.

I'm as proud as you can imagine.

What's that?

Such a burden.

When Lord and Lady Manwaring separated,

Mr. Johnson,
who is Lucy Manwaring's guardian,

invited her to live with us.

Really? What upsets her?

The separation still. She goes on about it.

What?

All this carrying on about a marriage
that ended weeks ago.

If a woman fails to please her husband, why
go on about it, advertising one's failure?

Why announce to the world
that the man who knows you best

would rather be with someone else?

It seems as if Lady Manwaring has failed to
consider the difference between the sexes.

For a husband to wander
is not the same as vice versa.

If a husband strays,
he's merely responding to his biology.

That is how men are made.

But for a woman to act
in a similar way is ridiculous,

unimaginable.

Just the idea is funny.

Couldn't agree more. Quite funny.

I rather blame
Lady Manwaring's scene-making

for driving her husband away.

But her loss has been our gain.

As a result of the trouble
her solicitors caused,

we've had Manwaring stay with us
these past weeks.

That's not inconvenient?

Not at all!

Capital fellow. Couldn't get on better.

Loves to hunt, small and large game.

Excellent. Excellent to have a guest.
And the talk that comes with it.

Of course, Lady Susan's sharp,
but it's easier to talk with a fellow,

particularly one who shares one's interests.

Before long, we'll have another guest.

Frederica.

No. Of course, the baby!

Manwaring? Manwaring?

Have you seen my husband?

What have you been saying? Tell me.

How is he?

Well, madam. Very well, I believe.

Couldn't be better.

- Tea?
- Quite.

Look out!

Right.

So, here's the church.

But where's the hill?

Don't see it.

Doesn't seem to be one.

Strange. Odd.

God bless you all!

Please excuse me.

Your mother must be very proud.

And I am enormously grateful to her.

Without her efforts, I never would have found
such happiness.

Do excuse me.

And bearing false witness?

No, that would be the Ninth.

You must be most proud of Frederica.

Well, I would not say proud.

I'm glad I was able to attend
to her education.

My daughter has shown herself
to be cunning and manipulative.

I couldn't be more pleased.
A Vernon will never go hungry.

We must ask Frederica to sing.

That would be delightful.

The Surrey Songbird, we call her.

What? No. Kentish Nightingale.

Always called her that.

Surrey Songbird? Nonsense.
Rubbish. Ridiculous.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Mr. Reginald DeCourcy.

Over the past months,
I have continued to be startled

by Frederica's loveliness and good heart.

I had wanted to write some verses
as a memorial to these discoveries.

But they are now so extensive
they would form a volume.

So I'll just read these few lines.

"Mien engaging"?

Yes, "mien," appearance or countenance.

It's from the French "mien," I believe.

I can find you the citation.

Mrs. Reginald DeCourcy.

As you may already know,

I take Lady DeCourcy's
requests as commands

and therefore, I will sing this piece.

Though I detest imprudence
and sincere emotions of all kinds,

where Manwaring's concerned...

And very quickly he was in good humor?

I see what you mean,
how flattery alters a man's spirits.

It's delightful.

Such a posture,
resenting a well-meaning parent,

is apparently common among girls her age.

- They are perhaps undercooked.
- No, not at all.

- They're perfect.
- Yes!

Good-tasting. Quite sweet.

I shouldn't have said anything at all!

She's lovely.

No DeCourcy should forget
the lengths to which Lady Susan went

to prevent Charles Vernon
marrying Catherine,

which, had she succeeded, would have
ruined your sister's happiness forever.

Lady Susan sent her servant away
and then you left.

And a few minutes later...

Mrs. Johnson, this is beyond
what I could have imagined.

I'll never forgive the trouble he's caused.

Thank you, my dear.

May his next gouty attack be a severe one.