Original subtitles

I know you're meant to be abrupt, but that's a bit stark.

I'm always stark with liars.

I'm drawn to you. And I'm drawn...

to other women.

Back off, Wickham. I know you.

But I don't have the pleasure.

Get used to it. Allow me to introduce Mr Collins.

What a bloody mess!

We cannot in all conscience detain you further with our hospitality.

You will leave my house.

You're such a disappointment I can't bear to look at you.

You are an abomination, madam. Good afternoon.

(COCK CROWING) (THUDDING)

Elizabeth, I'll tell you this for free.

If we don't get through this door, I'll have to do something drastic.

(THUDDING)

Oh!

Whatever do you do, sir?

Sleeping in the library!

What I do, madam, is collide with folly and conceit

whenever I am rash enough to step outside this room.

Henceforth, I am minded to remain here.

Are you not happy that Jane is wed to Mr Collins?

Happy?

That my kindest, prettiest daughter

has embarked upon an adulthood of supplication

to such a preening Caliban? Happy, madam,

that she should live in subjugation to such an enormity?

I would rather sleep in a drain than consent to be happy.

MRS BENNET: Mr Bennet! I haven't slept a wink.

Lizzie lost at books,

now Jane taken to another county...

What Jane's done for Papa, I'd rather die.

(THUD) MR BENNET: Door...

Pickaxe.

A most satisfying juxtaposition.

I often wondered who was silly enough to leave this here.

Serves no earthly purpose.

Please reassure Mrs Bennet I'll be out of the house in ten minutes.

I shan't take anything I didn't bring with me.

Don't forget that. It's not mine.

I don't know how to thank you. Yes, you do.

Be reconciled with Jane. Do it soon.

(CHURCH BELL) Good morning, Mrs Collins.

You may be wondering...

why I have not called upon you in the night to...

claim the...rapture that is mine...

..as ordained by the Redeemer.

I'm engaged in a... period of abstinence,

for the purpose of purification.

But when that period is concluded...

Ohhh, Mrs Collins...

I have a mind to shear off all my hair.

Really?

Anything to alter that expression of sentimental disappointment.

What expression would you have me wear?

I love Miss Bennet still.

But she is no longer Miss Bennet.

She is now Mrs Collins.

(GASPS) On your departure,

my daughters may seek to engage you in conversation.

I would prefer it if they weren't successful.

Your parting words of wisdom are treasures my girls can live without.

You really do think I'm some sort of disease, don't you?

Spunk.

Do you know the word? It's soldier's slang.

They use it to applaud a particular species of reckless courage.

To my eye, Miss Price,

you have spunk.

How you hate me.

And yet, here you are. What choice do I have?

Precisely.

Now, you wish to crawl back into society, and for this, you need me.

So, prepare the meagrest of ingredients

with confidence and style...

..and you shall serve a banquet.

How much money do you have? A pound.

I have two.

I shall give you one of them.

And together, we shall buy you a dress.

I smile, yes? Yes.

The humble fan, for when one is consumed by one emotion,

but is constrained to exhibit another.

Why are you doing this? You want instruction in bearing and tone.

Do not touch your nose. I've got an itch.

Ladies are strangers to the itch.

Show me the coquette imperial.

You're selling me stale eggs at market. Do it again.

Better. Show your face.

Acquaintances.

Consider your very good friends, the De Ceressays...

the nec plus ultra of Parisian society,

dear Prince Gustaf and his charming wife...

Marie...

Their collection of porcelain is quite unparalleled.

I've never heard of these people.

Well, they don't exist, of course. Of course.

I've always found commendably useful...

I thought we were supposed to be at war with France.

War with France is traditional. War with Paris...

It's unthinkable.

Society does not recognise it.

What we shall do with you is have you married to a rich man.

I am the one person around here

who is absolutely not gonna marry anybody, rich or otherwise.

I buggered up this story, and now I have to unbugger it

by rebuilding my friendship with Jane Collins.

I'm going to write her a letter. Clever.

If you don't like it, you can take your dress and...

What? You shall be reconciled with Jane.

She shall invite you to her house, at Rosings,

which is owned by Darcy's dismal aunt Catherine,

who is the cloaca through whom all society must pass.

Whoa, whoa, the person I am most utterly not going to marry is Darcy.

I did not suggest it. And yet, you thought of it.

That's interesting. Go to Jane at once. Forget the letter.

'That's our of order, Wickham.

Unless it's absolutely necessary, I will never speak to Darcy again.

If I have to, I will be so bum-crushingly correct,

he'll faint with boredom and I'll step right over him, fanning.'

You have made this house very...

..comfortable.

The furnishings and decorations are under the personal jurisdiction of Lady Catherine.

Yes, that would explain it.

Jane, I don't expect you or Mr Collins to welcome me.

Please accept my apologies and my congratulations,

though they are both shamefully overdue.

That's it.

But if you ever need me, Jane, just say the word.

I'll hear you. I'll come.

My dear, you forget we dine with Lady Catherine tonight.

I had forgot. We must hurry.

Your guest is tolerated at the parsonage,

but under no circumstances can she be presented at Rosings.

Your husband is quite correct.

A person like myself cannot possibly sit at the same table as...

Lady Catherine De Bourgh.

You must. You cannot leave me to be devoured by Lady Catherine.

But it is...

awkward.

I am charged with passing Lady Catherine a message

from Princesse Marie De Ceressay, of Paris.

Dear Marie made me swear I would deliver the greeting personally.

But I'm sure it is quite all right if you do it for me, Mr Collins.

On the contrary,

you have been charged, Miss Price, with a most important mission.

You must obey your instructions to the letter.

If you say so, sir, I must.

(MUFFLED)

(CLEARS THROAT)

This is she.

No, no. This would never have done at all.

Before one even addressed the matter of trade,

the complexion is too weathered.

No, for you, Mr Collins, the Bennet girl is much more suitable.

The dress, however, is acceptable.

Ah, Fitzwilliam, there you are. Aunt.

The usual people are here to dine,

this Miss Price also.

Anne, come to your mother.

At dinner, you shall sit beside Miss Price.

It will be a useful exercise for you

to make conversation with a person unlike yourself.

Now, let us have music. Who shall play for us?

Miss Price disdains the pianoforte, Lady Catherine,

but she has an angel's voice. You are acquainted?

Lady Catherine, I forget my duty.

I bring the affectionate greetings of the Princesse De Ceressay.

Dear Marie especially wanted you to know

that you are always welcome at the chateau.

Dear Marie, as you know, is very dedicated in her friendship.

She never forgets my birthday.

I, however, forget the whereabouts of the De Ceressays' chateau.

Paris, Mr Darcy. The right bank.

The De Ceressays' house occupies... rather a lot of it.

Hm. I confess I am none the wiser.

No, sir. But you are better informed.

Fitzwilliam, you recall the lake with its charming crocodiles

and the little ducks bobbing about.

Dear Marie. Your pronunciation is so singular

that I did not recognise the name.

How are the De Ceressays?

How's the prince? He is very well, Lady Catherine.

# MOZART: Lied Der Freiheit # Weh dem! der ist ein armer Wicht

# Er kennt die gold'ne Freiheit nicht

# Er kennt

# Die gold'ne Freiheit nicht

# Er kennt

# Die gold'ne Freiheit nicht

# Wer sich um Furstengunst...

It is, as you are perfectly well aware,

quite impossible for you to be here.

Painfully aware, sir.

Against my better judgment, I've come at the insistence of Mrs Collins.

If you can possibly find a way of persuading her to send me home,

I would be most obliged.

Don't they make a lovely couple?

It's not my fault Miss Bennet chose to marry Mr Collins.

It was a decision freely made. Quite.

This is a free society. She was not constrained at dagger-point

to take the imbecile Collins to her bed.

Everywhere, I behold the squalid prospect

of grasping arrivistes, harlots, and liars scrabbling over each other

in the sewer that is existence outside society.

The prospect is indeed...frightful.

Mr Collins says the Lady Catherine's buttresses

are the talk of the county. Buttresses?

Being a woman, I know so little about architecture, of course, but...

I think they form - Yes, I know what buttresses are.

# Wohl mir, ich bin ein freier Mann!

'First set, Miss Price.

New balls, please.'

How long does this obtain, Mr Bennet,

this...dissension?

If Jane's marriage persists in provoking such distemper,

I am resolved to take the carriage

and visit Mrs Collins at Rosings, with Lydia.

It will be instructive for her to observe a happy marriage.

If you can contrive to find one of those at Rosings, Mrs Bennet,

I shall prance the length of Lady Catherine's drawing room naked.

Leave the room, Collins. Now.

I am a little astonished to be address thus in my own house.

My aunt's house. (CLEARS THROAT)

Go.

You wish to speak to me, sir?

I am...

concerned.

I don't understand.

You came to this house knowing you'd be brought to Lady Catherine's,

knowing I would be there, knowing of my abysmal disregard for you.

Why, when I am, as you insist, so relentlessly unpleasant to you,

do you persist in seeking me out?

I didn't seek you out. You came to me.

Why? I don't know.

You must know.

I do not, and my lack of comprehension is tormenting me.

Mrs Collins needs me. Good night.

Are you quite sure this is what you mean to do?

(DOOR SLAMS)

He is in love with you.

No, he can't be.

That...doesn't make sense at all. That's crazy.

Darcy, OK? And Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.

Not Darcy and Amanda Price of W6.

Lizzie did not come to my wedding.

She has detached herself from the fortunes of this family.

It is a thing that she has chosen.

You must acknowledge this, Miss Price, in your own choosing.

I think you are a good person,

and you deserve happiness.

Stilton.

Loganberries.

Oh, hartshorn jelly. Ohhh.

And medlars from the orchard. Does Papa not want his medlars?

If he did not speak up for them, he only has himself to blame.

Indeed, all has been askew since your arrival and here you are again.

And this is for Lady Catherine.

Mrs Hill's spiced cream,

set with calf's foot.

Will she like it?

You should have told me you were visiting. That is a fault.

But I shall overlook it,

as I have decided that I like very well this daughter of yours.

She is...douce.

She has a natural gentillesse.

Not of the same calibre as Miss Bingley, of course,

but that is breeding, a matter in which your daughters are...

disadvantaged. But that can be surmounted, within reason.

You will be relieved to hear that I have plans for them all.

Hm? Mr Collins has brothers.

They are not all as pleasing in conversational countenance as he,

but they will do very well for your offspring.

Quite so. Say not another word. Leave it to me.

Being an enthusiast of Mr Collins,

you would endorse such an arrangement?

I try not to judge people I've never met.

You are a philosopher, Miss Price.

I would I could be like you.

Certainly, you would benefit from an occupation of some kind.

You have no function, Mr Darcy, no purpose.

Of course not. What a disgusting idea.

That is the raison d'etre of society.

We must be seen to be unoccupied.

'He's just so toxic! How can Jane think I'm the girl for him?'

Your ladyship must demand the festival for the senses

that is Miss Price's music.

'You think you're the girl for him.

Step off, Caroline, you conniving smirking...'

Bum face. (CLATTER OF CUTLERY)

Did I say that out loud?

Erm, it is a...a card game, Lady Catherine.

You might know it as Humpty-Dumpty.

Lady Catherine does not trifle with common games of cards.

Seven... Seven reverses the order.

Not that I necessarily have a seven.

You will not play, Mr Darcy?

When the unwitting are to be relieved of their money,

I prefer not to be a party.

Mr Bingley, I can see your hand.

Ah! Such an elegant card.

Can you beat it? I cannot.

That's a guinea for me, Mr Collins.

Who plays now? Mr Bingley plays to me.

But he places no bet. Mr Bingley, you must bet.

Charles, you are too amusing. That is Papa's Hunter.

It is eccentric to wager an heirloom of pure gold at such a game.

It is your inheritance.

Mine. Not yours.

I offer you a knave, Miss Price.

Shall you better him?

She conquers you with the king, sir,

and claims her booty.

A bet is a bet, Miss Price.

Take the watch.

I would, Mr Bingley, with pleasure, had this not been a practice game.

The first round is always a practice.

I should have made that clear. Sorry, it's a rule.

Now, shall we play for real?

You've done well today, my dear. You've won your hostess a guinea,

you spared the blushes of Mr Bingley.

But you cannot have Fitzwilliam Darcy, Miss Price,

however good you are at games.

But I don't want Mr Darcy.

What you want, my dear, frightens you to death.

That is why you fail to comprehend yourself.

Where do you go, Charles? To the devil.

Or anyone who'll serve a man a proper drink.

Wickham. To drink with Wickham.

That is ill-advised. You counsel me on this now?

With whom I may or may not consort to drink gin?

She loves me still.

To what unrelenting misery have I condemned her...

on your instruction?

Damn you. And damn everyone who won't put a light in his window

and stay up all night damning you.

Miss Price.

I am decided I was wrong...

..about Charles and Miss Bennet.

I should never have obstructed them.

It was...a shameful cruelty against your...blameless friend,

and...

I beg your propitiation for it.

Prove to me that I am forgiven.

Come to Pemberley.

My sister Georgiana has want of company.

Did I dream?

You've just invited me to Pemberley, Mr Darcy?

I thought I heard you say, "Come to Pemberley."

I did indeed, madam. I thought it might prove diverting,

for you and Miss Lydia and...

Miss Price.

That's settled, then.

Good.

Good night.

I never thought I'd be asked to Pemberley.

No, it's...

pretty unprecedented.

I'll tell him.

From Lydia, Mr Bennet. She writes to say that she -

She and Mama are invited to Pemberley to stay for days.

I shall write to the prime minister.

Why do we never go anywhere, Papa, or do anything?

Lydia and your mother are at large in society, my dear.

It is enough for society to be getting on with.

What news of Jane? No news of Jane.

Mama frets about the inappropriateness of her hat and...

It is too much excitement for me to bear.

Thank you, ladies.

DRIVER: Whoa... Whoa there.

Ladies. Are we there yet?

We are indeed within the park of Pemberley, are we not?

(LAUGHS) Lydia, refresh yourself.

Here, hold the glass.

Oh, Lydia, you wobble so!

(FOOTSTEPS ON STAIRS)

Ah. I find you re-classifying your beads.

The taxonomic principle being colour, spectrum left to right.

Hm...

This...lady who's coming to stay...

..are you going to marry her?

And the second principle of order being size.

That's an absolutely outrageous question, Georgiana.

I really should chastise you for it.

You wouldn't dare.

You're right, I wouldn't.

(VOICES OUTSIDE)

Nevertheless, my dearest...

do indulge me by remaining in here for the moment.

BUTLER OUTSIDE: This way, sir. With your horse.

Mrs Bennet, ladies. Welcome.

Did you have a...erm...? A most pleasant journey, Mr Darcy.

Thank you. Good.

Splendid. My sister begs your pardon, but she is...

indisposed.

Mr Darcy.

With my particular gift for the inappropriate,

I am almost certainly bound to give offence, but...

you seem distressed, sir.

Wickham is here.

Be a good fellow and get down from your horse.

I am endeavouring to dismount.

You're a fool if you think Darcy will tolerate your presence here.

Bingley came to me in pursuit of oblivion.

He found it, for a pleasant evening.

Now he is delivered back to Pemberley undamaged.

Darcy is in my debt. House rules, Wickham.

Lydia, hands off. Georgiana, hands off big time.

What? This is... It's good.

You have chosen precisely the man I wished you to choose.

Swallerando, master of Pemberley.

Bravo. I know why you want me to do this.

If you could engineer it that Darcy and I get married,

then what happens to Frosty-Knickers?

I presume by that disparaging epithet,

you refer to the sublime Miss Bingley?

She gets scooped up by you, you and your galloping bloody horse.

Caroline is rather rich.

Maybe she is the love of my life.

You are repulsive. Yes, that's the tone.

Argh!

MR COLLINS: My Uncle Joseph, of course, was a legendary shot.

In Egypt, he once slew a brace of tigers with a single blast.

AMANDA: He must've been a very good shot... Charles.

..to hit tigers all the way from Egypt.

Wickham, will you shoot? No, sir.

I shall suffer Mr Darcy to let me help pick up

the multitude of birds that shall come tumbling from the sky.

(BANG AND FLAPPING OF WINGS)

(GUNSHOTS)

(GASPS) Ohhh...

Mr Bingley.

I am glad to see you, sir.

In a moment, my husband will send for me.

I have not long to say what I must say.

We must accept what has occurred, you and I.

We must not...reproach ourselves for unlived lives.

I married Mr Collins and it may not be undone.

But you, Mr Bingley, you must cast off this regret.

It is your moral duty to be happy, Charles.

Marry, and be happy for us both.

All's well, Mr Collins? Ah-ha-ha...

The birds are that way. Oh, yes. No, I...

Mr Collins has had the unusual good fortune to shoot a peacock.

That is unusual.

One peacock is... probably sufficient. Ohhh...

Please do not point your gun at me, Mr Collins, neither at Miss Price.

No, no, I... No, I just...

Ooh, yes. Whither our host, I wonder.

I neither know nor care.

Charles, that is ungracious. He is a hypocrite.

Amanda.

It is she who must be loved.

You must not.

You must not. Wherefore must I not?

Who is to judge us?

I've laboured so long in the service of propriety.

Elizabeth. I am not Elizabeth.

The entire world will hate me.

Were that true, Amanda, I would fight the world.

You are the one I love.

Will you do something for me?

I am having...a bit of a strange post-modern moment here.

Is that agreeable? Oh, yes. Yes.

Oh, please. Stay there. If you...

touch me again, I will be completely unable to say what I want to say.

You love me.

Which one of me do you love?

The one you first met when I was...

spiky and vulgar,

and I...argued with you all the time,

when you looked at me and felt all that abysmal disregard?

Or the one I've been recently, simpering and fanning and...

trying so hard to fit in.

Please tell me you've noticed the difference.

I find both incarnations of your character equally disagreeable.

And yet I love you, Amanda Price.

With all my heart.

(HUNTING HORN SOUNDS)

Ignore that. Please.

I cannot.

When my duties are discharged, I shall find you, Amanda,

for there is more to say...

..if only the same words, over and again.

'I love him.

I love Fitzwilliam Darcy.

I love him!

Maybe that's what's meant to happen.

I'm like an understudy.

The star has failed to turn up,

and I have to go on and do the show.'

(SOBBING)

Oh, it is the grass.

It makes my eyes water.

It's not the grass. It's seeing Jane married to the wrong man.

Well...

there's nothing to be done for it.

The world is full of... miserable, loveless marriages.

She will find a way to endure it.

Women do.

We are not condemned to endure our lives.

We can change them.

My life is about to change, Mrs Bennet.

I am in love, and the man I love is in love with me.

When I am married to him, I will be able to protect Jane.

And I'll be able to help you and Mr Bennet.

I will buy Longbourn for you.

Would that not improve things between the two of you just a bit?

Miss Price, this is...

a quite extraordinary declaration.

These are extraordinary times.

(GUNSHOT)

Bingley! Lay down your gun, sir.

The breath of your shot was upon my face.

How long shall you prolong this pantomime of heartbreak over Jane Collins?

Have you no notion how intensely tiresome this maudlin drunkenness has become?

Let us say no more of this.

I wanted to appraise you of some news.

I regret you were obliged to witness this. Your brother...

La. I'm not worried about him.

I'm worried about you.

I think your Miss Price leads you a merry dance.

If I were you, I would seek to know Miss Price a little better,

before presuming to...

know her better.

Hey, Lydia!

Life is pretty damn brilliant, don't you think?

Life at home is not...

rich in incident.

You won't always be at home.

The place from which you come is different.

Hah, too right. Hammersmith.

Don't stress about where you've been, Lydia.

Think where you're going. Just don't go anywhere near Wickham.

Hello.

Hello.

My brother has told me to stay in this room.

Good advice. Why?

I would've thought...

..because of...

what happened to you,

with Wickham.

What you have been told happened to me

is not what happened.

My nurse conceived... a passion for Mr Wickham.

She took me with her to a place where she could encounter him,

as though by hazard.

For this enterprise, I was the mask.

But I had fallen in love with him.

Every instant that her back was turned,

I offered myself to him.

He called me his sweet child,

his adorable child,

but a child nevertheless, and he refused me.

So I went to my brother,

and I told him that George had ravished me.

Jeepers.

Probity, Elysium, Canaan, and Tinkler.

Tinkler, Mr Collins?

My youngest brother, madam.

His baptismal name is Cymbal.

I Corinthians 13:1.

"I am become a sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."

Oh, of course.

How very er...

ingenious were your parents in the naming of their children.

Tinkler is four and twenty years of age.

He's quite...stout.

But Miss Lydia, I am sure,

would have him cavorting about the house like a fawn.

It's an excellent match. (CHOKES)

What happened? Mr Bingley and I have been chatting.

Miss Price, my life...

..is a pretty drear thing.

But it is conducted for the greater part in public.

It is a rare moment that I am not closely observed by servants.

If one wished to know the truth about Fitzwilliam Darcy,

one need merely ask.

You're worried that I have a past that you don't know about?

I am braced for the truth.

Will you tell it me?

OK.

What I should do, what my mother would certainly say I should do

if she were here - thank God she isn't -

is keep my mouth shut. But given that I've never been able to do that,

and given that Caroline has almost certainly put it about

that I am the great whore of Hammersmith...

But you'd never listen to gossip, would you?

I love you for that, and that's the thing.

I love you.

I didn't know that.

I didn't know that.

But it is clear to me now that I have always loved you.

Every time I've fallen for a man,

I've closed my eyes and it's been you.

Even Michael, and I pretty much lived with him for a year.

So, yes. I have a past.

But every...instant in it contains you.

Everything I am...

..belongs to you.

I cannot marry you.

I am sorry for you.

But a man like me cannot possibly marry a woman like you.

A woman like me?

You are not a maid.

I am sorry.

I've been incredibly stupid.

You told me the truth when I asked for it.

For that courage, I shall admire you always.

But it has cost me everything.

It has cost that of us both.

(CLEARS THROAT)

You'd never knock.

What can I do for you, Miss Bingley?

If the answer is "Sling your hook so I can get my paws on Darcy,"

you're in luck. Look at me, I'm going.

I do look at you, Miss Price.

You people.

If just one of you actually said or did something you actually meant,

that had any emotional integrity, the rest of you would die of fright.

You're staring at me, Caroline. It's a bit freaky.

Good grief!

Charles told me your secret.

It is my secret too.

I shall get my paws on Darcy, and I shall marry him,

because it is correct,

and necessary and expected by everyone, including God.

But the physical society of men is something I have never sought.

I shall endure it with Darcy

because endurance is the speciality of our sex.

But the poetry of Sappho is the only music that shall ever touch my heart.

Though I have yet to play upon the erm...

instrument myself.

I wanted you to know this.

And humour...sisterly communion,

before you scuttle back to Hammersmith.

You don't get to marry Darcy.

Do I not?

'Goodness.

Jane Austen would be fairly surprised to find she'd written that!'

I've been talking to Georgiana.

What a determined little girl. Don't tell Darcy.

He'd throw her out.

Letting it circulate that you seduced Georgiana to protect her!

I'm sorry, George, but...

that's honourable.

I got you all wrong. It's more fun that way.

What's the matter here?

Darcy said he loved me.

I said I loved him back.

And then, I found myself obliged to tell him...

a little bit too much about myself.

He has rewarded your candour by casting you into outer darkness.

(SIGHS)

Oh, well. Caroline Bingley's an ocean-going whore,

and she has no arse to speak of.

Marriage to her would have been tiresome.

You know what I think, Miss Price?

I think you're a girl who's a very long way from home.

Can you get me a carriage, please? I want to go home.

Well...

now, you know everything.

What a jaundiced impertinence is this?

To write a roman a clef about gentle people

who have received you as their guest.

You have not even the grace to disguise our names.

It is a monstrous ingratitude and betrayal of trust.

No wonder nothing about you seems plausible.

Is your name Price, or is it Austen?

Frankly, madam, I cease to care.

You don't get it.

How could you? Even I don't get it any more.

I'll walk, thanks. There is nowhere for you to walk to from here.

Then that's where I'll go.

Goodbye, Mr Darcy.

Everything you think is wrong, Darcy.

Everything.

Georgiana, Wickham.

None of that happened the way you think it did.

You'll never hear it from her, she's scared to death of you.

And Bingley, your best friend!

He's become a drunk and that's your fault, yours!

You're supposed to be so bloody incandescent with integrity,

and you misjudge everybody.

You misjudge me.

'I love you. I love you.

I want to die! I love you.'

Lydia doesn't run off with Bingley, but with Wickham.

I've asked Miss Bingley to be my wife and she has consented.

Hammersmith. This is where you live.

Time to take the weapons from the wall,

and take guard! Mr Bennet!

(SHRIEKING)