All language subtitles for Savage.House.2025.1080p.SCREENER.WEB-DL.H264.AAC-AOC

Sam. It. Sam. The Bennett's nearly here, sir. I've been poisoned.

You've been on a three day drunk, sir. I did warn you. You did nothing of the sort. My inner dirt Astrid was wrecked. Call that doctor.

I have a bowl of peasant soup, raw eel, a half loaf of pumpernickel and a glass of owl yolk with vinegar and a splash. Splash of whiskey.

Sir George Chauncey Savage was an insolent Welsh upstart. A low bred ruffian and opportunist who through unsavory efforts, shameless swindles and social climbing, managed to coax and court a well born wife, Lady Savage of the Yorkshire Savages. Only to squander what little was left of her family estate on garish clothing, boozing, whores and of course, his poison of choice, gambling. Those he agreed to take the Savage name in order to marry up and purchase his title of sir with the ill advised sale of several paintings and parcels of land. But despite appearances, he was nothing more than the son of a penniless peddler.

An outsider among the ruling class. Chauncy never felt as if he was good enough for her or them. And most would agree.

I simply loathe the Bennetts. Snobbish paralytic balls. Do you see the way he looks at me with that probing sneer? And his poorish wife shows all the charm of a septic cyst. I heard a particularly vile story from a footman the other day involving Mr.

Bennett and a syphilitic. Oh, pray tell.

Born in the slums of St. Giles, Chauncey's valet was a low bred ruffian and opportunist in his own right.

See where you are. If you'll empty your pilot, you kindly deliver your valuables. There's a newly implemented tax on nobles in the area. Thank you kindly. The Queen of Hearts.

To maintain his life of leisure and quell his mounting debts, Chauncey was quick to include his loyal footmen on trips to brothels, gambling halls and wherever he thought it beneficial.

Hi. Come back here. Shoot. Shoot. She's lying, Steven.

Brigands.

A rake on the mate.

Come on. Slow down. I'm wearing heels.

Chauncy had various tricks and deceptions on how best to achieve his desired outcome. He would masterfully palm and replace his dice with an altered pace that he had meticulously melted.

Double bubble, toil and trouble. Passions burn and bets are double so

that they almost always landed on sixes.

I do not know how savage, but you have cheated me ungentlemanly and odiously. And on such grounds I demand satisfaction. How dare you.

Reginald was often tasked with settling Chauncey's various financial squabbles and disagreements by duel of sword or pistol, as well as assist in evading the increasingly frequent visits of his vexed collectors.

Where is he? I'm afraid, sir, Chauncey is away on business in Hamburg. Last month it was Paris, the month before that, the West Indies. Don't meddle with me, boy. I've heard rumor my parcel's been sold twice, possibly thrice.

Chauncy had been slowly siphoning off parcels of their peerage. A rather reckless and intricate scheme of over leveraging and double dealing.

If the matter isn't sorted appropriately and with haste, I shall be forced to call upon the authorities. I'll pass along the message. How's her ladyship this morning? It seems she'll only speak to me at social gatherings or at meals. Oh, I'm sure it's just a rough batch, sir.

She hasn't touched me in months. You're an acquired taste, sir. What should I do about our Mr. Black? He did seem a little perturbed earlier.

Ah, yes. Parcel 11 glorious swathe of birchen pine. Not to worry. I've got it under control. Not about to let some greedy banker seize our home and sully our name.

Is that blood pheasant, sir? Oh, delicious. My favorite. I know, sir. I don't know what I'd do without you.

Your loyalty and valor, your skill of shot. Well, you are many things, sir, but a good shot is not one of them. Oh, it's not my fault spectacles make me look bookish and fat. I don't tell you enough, but I care for you like a sump or an affectionate dog.

Lady Savage had come from a disgraced family of nobility, though she still carried a distinguished title and the bluest of blood. The savages of Yorkshire had fallen on hard times and were merely a name at this point. This financial standing was not helped by her marriage to Chauncey. But the heart is a mercurial muscle. She fell under his spell quite quickly and against all opposition and criticism married him in a fortnight.

She had never met anyone quite like Chauncey. But of course, good times have a price.

Oh, Chauncey.

Their reckless spending and misadventures had left them on the precipice of peril. As gossips would say, they deserved each other.

I've never met a more lifeless pair than the Bennett's tiresome teacups. They are porcelain painted and empty from Ear to ear. Then why must you always invite them over? Well, beggars can't be choosers. If one doesn't have dinner guests, albeit Dimmendale, then one could wonder if they ever ate at all.

But we are here, Mom. I know it's true. But you're a servant, you're always here. And a paid guest, however dear, doesn't count. Indeed.

The only persons who are eager to visit us these days are my husband's lenders and dubious debt collectors. That man has never met a ruffled coat or a worldbosomed cunning he hasn't lusted. Maybe the gossips are right. We deserve each other. You speak too harshly of yourself, ma'.

Am.

You're the only one who understands me. Dorothy, are you sure that this isn't too much? Not at all, Mom. I think it shows great restraint. Oh, not again.

Oh, get that ribbon from over there.

That'll do.

For the first time in 500 years, a total solar eclipse is approaching London in less than a fortnight. Such an eclipse occurs when a new moon drifts between the sun and Earth like a lid, smothering the sun black and casting its shadow over the earth's surface. Halley's eclipse is the first of its kind predicted on Newtonian theory, and thus a detailed map of its path is illustrated below.

How's my little troublemaker and her mischief of mice?

Papa, Promise you'll come play after the Bennet?

Well, only if Wally promises not to bite this time.

Can't promise that.

No footing. Of course not. The pheasant isn't as vomit as it was last time. Cooper's eyes on the pot for days, squitting Mr. And Mrs.

Bed. How lovely to see. Right this way. Way. Were you invited to the ball at Cumberland Castle?

It sounds splendid. We were not all that interminable. Dinner for the the new Earl of Gloucester?

Sadly not, no.

And I'm sure it was a servant's error.

Yes.

Lord Mullig told me the most extraordinary tale this morning. Something called an eclipse. Apparently there's rumor from reliable sources. Evil spirits will pour out like an open spigot from the sky, the devil's doing for this wretched king. Reliable sources, you say?

Oh, it's true.

Yes. Evil.

First a German monarch, then the pox, and now this. A hole in the sky. Whatever's next, however problematic, you find Georgie's ascension. The bloody Jacobites are sulling the streets with violence and mayhem like snobbish children whose toys have been taken. Don't lift the King.

I'm Sorry, but they're nothing but seditious imbeciles masquerading as revolutionaries. You can't be serious. I've been accused of many things, Mr. B, but seriousness isn't one of them. A Hanover here is an affront for any self respecting Englishman.

The dismantling of the Tories, the Whig's cloak and dagger ascent. It's disgraceful. A vile coup. This is our land.

Yes.

Our crown, our birthright.

Yes.

And I'm not about to let some filthy German snatch it away from us.

He's right. If we're not careful, we'll be eating schnitzel for breakfast. Guten Nagd. Guten tag.

Guten Poppycock.

Indeed.

George Augustus. I don't trust an Augustus. No, no. But James Edward Stuart. There you are.

That's a King's name.

And this Johann Backfellow sounds suspicious too.

Everyone we've spoken to considers the accession illegitimate. Seriously, Humphrey, are you really worried that some wily Whig is going to come and seize your land while you're on the pot? Sir, do you mock me? By no means. Simply a disagreement between dearest friends, exchanging thoughts and ideas on politics of the day.

You, sir, have an astute, agile mind on such matters. I'm not much of a political animal. More of a peacock. Who wants cake? Only two servants.

It's barbaric.

Did you see this?

Sold their Van Gogh. Scandal debts. Obviously. Oh, Humphrey. Oh.

Never seen so much in my life. From the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. Urgent, Sir.

S Saw that telescope you got. How much did that cost?

I don't know what you're talking about, sir. D. It's a request from the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. They're to begin their yearly Yorkshire tour and one of their hosts, Lord Vernon, has apparently succumbed to. To a grizzly bat of the pox.

What? What? What? What is it?

They need a place to dine and sleep in 10 days time and are curious if we can accompany.

No. No.

Yes.

I'm sorry. No, you can't. No, please. Is this a prank? A spiteful jet?

I assure you it's quite real. Look at the penmanship. It's remarkable. Do you think he rated himself?

We have neither the means nor the staff to accommodate such a noble request. I'm sorry, but I will not be humiliated.

Wouldn't rejecting such a request be equally humiliating, if not more?

We could lie. We could respond with lurid accounts of sickness ourselves.

My darling, my love, please. Can't you see the opportunity? A Yorkshire tour during an outbreak and uprising we are the beneficiaries of miraculous circumstance.

Chauncey, please.

In Canada we were probably fifth or sixth on list. But that's neither here nor there to. And you see, we were chosen. This is our chance to restore your family name, to put us back on top. To rewrite history without anyone being the wiser.

Save for a few nosy neighbours and debt collectors. You are the company you keep. Imagine our lives after such a revered dinner. The invitations to balls and gods and various royal

filled with dueling wits and platters of pineapple.

Maybe. Maybe an holiday in old Paris with the Duke and Duchessy. Oh, my Lady Savage. You look particularly ravishing. Why, thank you, your grace.

This is madness.

But isn't it fun? Your birth is brutal and without distinction. You've had to claw and scratch your way every inch to pull yourself out of the muck and look where you are now. Lord of the bloody Bell. A Duke and Duchess to dine at my table.

You're an inspiration to lordborne raffians everywhere. After we've ran the Duke, our vex collectors will be forced to forgive their loans or ask for interest. Little shit. Fuck. I said it was an accident.

I'll sue you, Ax. Oh, fuck.

Sir.

Come here.

Seems like a rather large waste of money. No, you worry too much. You'll give yourself irritable bowels. Nothing set in stone, my love. But if we do accept, think of it as an investment in our future.

Imagine one day you're going to marry one and save us all from ruin. You speak of me as if I were property to be sold to the highest bidder. Tragic as it might seem, you are fertile land to be nurtured, gardened and on occasion, drunkenly ploughed in the night without adequate satisfaction. But mama, you married papa for love, who was nothing more than a charming rogue. Yes, and look where that foolishness has left us.

Oh, you're a fantasist, my love. Just like your father. Lost in the stars. Now get some rest. Say goodnight to the mice.

No, I'll do no such thing.

Please.

You're a disturbed child. But I love you.

Miss Neville, how curious to see you in the cellar.

I'm a. I must be lost.

Milad, if you're not too busy, perhaps you could help me butter my biscuit with a little clotted cream and gooseberry jam.

Why, of course, Milad.

Dirty little piggy.

You're a gifted swordsman, Mr. Halifax.

Next. It's all on the wrist, my ladyship. For what it's worth, I implore you to accept The Duke's request and to reply with haste. This is your chance to rebuild Savage House and finally return your name to his rightful place. You deserve to shine, my love, to be the golden beacon you were born to be before the men in your life sullied and squandered your good fortune.

Hold me. Don't touch me.

I think I love you.

In the sweet smelling sheets of her young lover, Lady Savage finally agreed to host the Duke and Duchess for dinner. A responsibility she did not take lightly. And so our march of folly begins.

Knowing my husband is prone to indulgence, I've taken it upon myself to guide the process of restoring our home to its former glory in 10 days time. Now, I've made a detailed list of all expected duties to eradicate any confusion or negligence. Mr. Halifax, you are to handle all manual labor, including but not exclusive to gardening, carpentry and general restoration. Ms.

Neville, in addition to your usual cleaning duties, you are to work with Mr. Walcott in conceiving and procuring the necessary items for our menu, as well as notifying the finest tradesmen in their various fields. Art dealer, jewel merchant, dressmaker, et al. This is a Duke's dinner. Ladies and gentlemen, it's a great honor.

No expense shall be spared. Now, the clock is ticking, so chop chop.

I've been thinking about dinner guests. We should invite Lord Cumberland and so and so. And to add a little culture, perhaps that witty doubler, Dean Swift.

At a short notice and during an outbreak. It'll be tough. We can try.

What? It's not my fault I'm a nervous eater, you know that. Sir. Please, please. Climbing the social ladder can be perilous if you're not careful.

Stop.

Stop horsing around, darling.

No need to cry about it.

Perhaps after you've finished, Ms. Neville, you can unearth my mother's china from whatever dusty cabinet you've hidden it in. Can't seem to find it anywhere. Yes, mom.

Oh, yes it does. Just like that.

I'd help, but I'm utterly useless with the hammer.

There's so much that needs to be done. The pressure's unimaginable. I don't know what to do without you. I was thinking of possibly selling off another parcel to bankroll the necessary additions for the dinner. You've already sold or loaned against every Parcel, sir.

Some 20. Need I remind you of our Mr. Black? Yes, yes, of course. Parcel 11.

I was merely musing. No self respecting gentleman knows his back balance well. If you're not careful, sir, we'll end up in Fleet. Or worse, bedlam. Never mind the particulars.

We'll think of something. What a fine collection, your ladyship. Your family's impeccable taste is well known and without exception, this item in particular is of great interest.

No, I'm afraid I can't, Mr. Brimsby. My aunt Elsa gave me that.

But, darling, you never wear it.

Only the pearls and the garnets. I won't sell my jewels.

And so Lady Savage sadly sold her mother's pearls, her aunt's earrings and a slew of venetian trinkets to Mr. Brimsby for a rather large pouch of coin. There was a great deal left to acquire for the Duke's dinner, and now they had the requisite means. First and foremost, with three notable paintings missing in the parlor room, Chauncy decided it was prudent to purchase lesser works of equal size to replace them. The large empty squares marked by dust and sun damage, were a garish sight to any learned eye, particularly a duke and Duchess.

This comes from Giacomo Adolfi. An incredible talent and a disciple of Caravaggio. His work isn't as known, but he is held in the highest regard in the essential circles. I sold one last month to the Earl of Leicester. All very hush hush, of course.

Of course. Yes, I see now. Quite magnificent. Brilliant. What makes, may I ask, is the price?

You have impeccable taste, Sir Chauncy. I'm sure we can come to a fair and equitable understanding.

Of course, not understanding the finer things. Chauncey painfully overpaid the nobleman Lord Wilbury.

These are Jacobian with a rattan back. These are Queen Anne with a cabriole leg. This is the latest fashion. It's Italian silk damask with a ball. And this fabric was woven by blind nuns in Holland.

They're lovely, but they have tiny fingers. These feet look like gold. They aren't, actually. And these are our chairs. Yes, Duke.

No, of course, Duke.

Did you hear? Duke

Chauncy and Lady Savage had agreed not to tell anyone of their illustrious dinner guests, but quickly abandoned such secrecy and proceeded to inform everyone that passed through their home. Or would listen, of course. They did so with great discretion.

And pigs can fly. Oh, that's true. Then you must have these for a Duke and Duchess. The curtains must always match the sheets. Duchess, your chariot awaits.

What's the occasion, your Ladyship?

Don't tell us all, but the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire are coming for dinner.

Oh, you must have the this, then. Lady Lennox wore it to the Cumberland Ball. Everyone at the Royal Court is wearing It.

Oh, it's stunning.

You're too modest. With a figure like yours, your ladyship, it'll be perfection. I'll tuck it here, here and here. Just you see.

Do I have to wear this?

Yes, you do, darling. You're like a beautifully wrapped candy that, once bitten, is laced with lye and hemlock.

And you, dearest husband, like a provenance rose, a charming and colourful creature that, on closer inspection, is actually quite born y and grown. And manure, sir.

I know, I know. I'll pay the rest next month, I promise, sir. A duke's dinner could be invaluable for business, especially during such a wretched outbreak. They'll be ready before the dinner.

With mischievous glee, the two continued to dig themselves into debt. For ambition, like any sweet elixir, can be a blinding thing. They even commissioned a family portrait to color them in a more lavish light than their circumstance suggested. For perception is everything, especially among the ruling class.

Why are you holding a pheasant, Papa? You don't hunt.

Nobody wants to see reality, my love. They only want fantasy. Don't move. I know you think you are not moving, but you are redempt.

Pablo. Pardon the costumes. I know this may sound rather peculiar, but you are to impersonate the Duke and Duchess, so we may rehearse the fashionable dances of the day whilst dearest Fanny can practice her harpsichord.

If anyone should be playing the Duke and Duchess in this game, it should be us.

Then maybe you and I, dearest. That's not particularly helpful. What about the eclipse? What about it? Some fear it's going to create a black mare in the sky for dark spirits to funnel through.

If you don't start playing, I'll show you a dark spirit in the form of a birch paddle. Or perhaps those rich mice of yours would like a little arsenic with their breakfast. Well, perhaps I should shave them and make myself a fashionable pair of eyebrows. You wouldn't. I most certainly would.

Now, this is the Duke and Duchess. We must be at our very best. Duke, may I have this dance?

Of course, your ladyship. If I may say, you are a vision this evening. You may not, Mr. Halifax.

Why, thank you, your Grace.

Duchess.

Fanny. How's it going with the leadership?

We're nearly there, my love. We are nearly there, I promise. In the moment, I'm sure of our affections. Chauncey will be plagued by tragedy.

Perhaps the poisoning of a tea cake or wine.

Or a hunting accident while founding. Oh.

Drunkenly tumbling from his windowsill.

I will ascend the lord of the manor and shower you with the riches you so richly deserve.

He's a sad old man and uncharitable lover, but he's not without his charms. While we're in the murderous spirit, why not kill off her leadership as well? A drowning at daybreak or an errant slip on the soapy floor.

But it's too suspicious. Then Burke dying of unnatural, curious causes. Not to mention little Fanny.

Who cares about that sniveling little snob? Those mycibers eat better than I do.

We have to think of the long game here. After the dinner, after the dust settles, we'll make our move. Good day, sir. How may I help you? Hi, man.

Ma'. Am. Ma'. Am.

Lower and a little to the left.

Who the hell. Don't. What's this talking?

But just.

Mr. And Mrs. Bennet. To what do we owe the honor? We were just taking our morning stroll and thought we'd stop by.

Are these savages in by chance? Of course. We don't mean to impose, but we.

You most certainly do.

Beg your pardon?

Whenever someone begins a sentence with we don't mean to impose, followed by the word but we most certainly mean it. Don't apologize, Mr. Bennet. Simply continue your imposition. We're all friends here.

It's not like that at all. We were just strolling, you see. We really don't mean to impose. But we did hear that the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire were coming for dinner. It's true.

How magnificent. Truly. Oh, all the gossip. We heard Lord Vernon's illness had taken a terrible turn for the worse. One man's tragedy is another's treasure.

Indeed. Is that a Caravaggio? Gentleman never boasts. You two look simply glowing.

That dress, your hair, your complexion.

I mean, it's. It is remarkable.

Oh, you're too kind.

Would it be too much to inquire our standing to that? I mean, our invitation. Oh,

dearest friends, I'm afraid that every seat is. But rest assured that if anyone should drop out, you are firmly in consideration.

Of course, of course. It's no imposition at all. Gosh, with the time, if you'll excuse us, we have a great deal to prepare. We're very busy. If anything should change, go to the door.

Oh, you're right, my love.

Oh, it's fine. It's nothing. It's nothing.

No, let me get a doctor to take a look at it.

Oh, don't be so dramatic. I've more than enough wine to quell the pain. Now show me the bloody flower options again.

Don't you raise your voice. With me. You're acting like a petulant child.

I'm sorry, darling. I'd simply like to see the flower options again, if that's not too much to ask.

You wouldn't know the difference between peonies and bloody daffodils, but very well.

I have a keen eye and a sharp nose, I'll have you know.

Don't forget a limp leg.

You're relentless.

Thank you. You quite finished? Good, because we need two more footmen for tomorrow's rehearsal. One for either side of the table.

Am I supposed to find two footmen

in the middle of nowhere?

I don't care if you have to dress up a donkey in a bloody Jacobite, just do it. We've got auditions this afternoon and they cannot be rescheduled.

You're rel. Dorothy. What the hell are you doing? Victor. Oh.

Oh. Morning, Barrel. Henry. Well round, everybody. Jacob.

Jacob. Well done, well done. Got some good news. All gather round. Don't be shy.

I need two fine men for an assignment in the main house. You'll be more than fairly compensated for your time.

Chauncy had sympathy for his workers plight, for he was once one of them. They were an unfortunate and painful reminder of his humble beginnings. Though he would never admit it, this was the reason Chauncey rarely if ever, visited the stables.

Now, who here has all their limbs, including their fingers? Hands up. Ah, you. And you. Excellent.

You two, come this way.

Chauncy even paid them a handsome stipend from his dwindling pouch. Far more than was warranted and expressly against her Ladyship's wishes.

Don't tell her Ladyship. This is our little secret. Yes, sir. What's your name, my good man? James, Sir.

James Darby. Oh, strong name. Very English. Yours, Leslie, not err, strong, little feminine. Now I'm going to call you Horace.

It's a strong name. My father was a Horace. Come along, come along. I leave you fine men in the care of my valet, Mr. Halifax.

Check them for all signs of pox, pig malodorous breath, fetid sweat and foul urine. Then boil their clothes, perfume their limbs, clean them up, show them the basics. Chop, chop. This is the only warning you're going to get, so heed it well. Do not take advantage of Sir Chauncey's charity.

He may be a kind and magnanimous man, but I assure you I am not. To even ponder Pinching a pastry would be to meet an untimely end. Am I understood? Good. Oh, not bad.

Not bad at all. Well done, Reginald. Fine work. Thank you, sir. How's it feel to be a footman?

To be out of the muck like a new man? Sir. Thank you. Brilliant. Less smiling, but brilliant.

Well done. Well done. Yeah, that's it. Hurry up. Pull it out.

That's it. Yeah. Yeah. Come on. That help?

But I'm utterly useless with a hammer.

I don't like that.

Sal. Val. Adonay.

He's good, isn't he?

What do you think of the new footman?

Very respectable. What do you think of our performers?

Oh, quite riveting.

Yes.

All the world's a stage. I could do this while I've tread the boards and played the bard. And all the men and women merely players. They have their exit and entrances. And one man in his time plays many parts.

Oh, yeah. Bravo. Bravo. Bravo. Jesus.

Put me up. Rack up. If you behave yourself, I'll have you severed and phantom of ice. You. It.

Tighter. Tighter.

Oh.

Ow. Be careful. Sorry, mom.

Sa. Sam. The rehearsal dinner is nearly ready, sir.

Darling, we're going to have to get the carpenter to raise the ceilings. If your wigs get any larger, I can hear the complaints of vexed theatre goers already.

Oh, it's not that bad.

It's a mountainous rodent.

Oh.

Oh, Duke.

What do you think of my gown?

Is it too much? Oh, your grace, you're too kind.

What did he say?

A woman never tells. You're both mad as a hatter.

She's such a car.

Oh, this looks divine.

Oh. I'd like to thank you all for your generous attendance and decorous gifts. We are humbled and honored to host the Duke and Duchess on such a glorious evening. I finish the rest later. Chin chin.

And bon appetit. What the hell is this? Send it back.

It's a little undercooked, but not that bad.

Look at this. Foul, positively rancid. And certainly not fish for a bloody duke. Will be sent to the gallows. Next course.

I'm so sorry, Duke.

After a long day of endless eating and drink, Chauncy finally succumbed to his considerable pain.

Darling, what is it?

Oh, my.

Get the doctor. Oh, darling.

Yes? It appears you have a touch of the King's disease, as they say. King's disease? It feels like the bloody thing is going to explode. I assure you it will not explode.

Duke is coming in less than a week. I cannot be hobbling about like some village idiot. Take this three times a day. It's the very latest. A peculiar, though effective combination of.

Of laxatives. Licorice and coriander. Licorice? If it worsens, let me Know at once and I'll apply the necessary leeches. I must advise the strict avoidance of all red meat and drink until the swelling and pain pass.

You have my word, Doctor. I'll not drink a droplet till the Duke's dinner. I swear. Duke and duchess are only days away. Would you like some more, sir?

Careful

with five days till the Duke's dinner. As was custom, they sent their luggage ahead with strict instructions on how best to prepare. From the precise fold of a precious garment to the herbs with which to scent their pillow.

And then. Movement isn't your first instinct. Should we try a little urgency? Through to the back, Samuels. Savage.

Why, Mr. Black. To what do we owe the honor? Enough tomfoolery, boy. I see our traveler has returned.

I need a word of Mr. Savage at once. It's true, he has, but I'm afraid he's fallen gravely ill. Possibly the pox. Last week it was Hamburg.

Now it's the bloody pox. You're shameless. This is Mr. Lawton, the gentleman to whom your employer sold the same parcel of land as he did to me. Next time you see us, we should be accompanied by the authorities.

Good day. Good day, sir. Come on, Darby.

With the duke's arrival imminent, Lady Savage called upon Mr. Brimsby once more. Against her better judgment, she sold a slew of family heirlooms to help pay for their mounting bills. She even conceded to sell her grandmother's cherished ring. That she had sworn she wouldn't.

Stunning specimen, your ladyship. Truly.

Thank you, Mr. Grimsby. Mama, you're going to send us to the poor house if you keep this up. Not now, Fanny. I'm in no mood.

Hurry, Harry. So much needs to be done.

Please remember what the doctor said.

I don't care what the bloody doctor says. What does he know? Licorice laxatives. I've been shitting in a bloody pan all night. I need some second preparations.

You're not going anywhere, per doctor's orders.

Perhaps Mrs. Bennet was right. Evil is afoot. These Jacobites and wretched revolutionaries are stirring up the masses. Cholera and typhus preying upon the poor.

Now pox creeping its way to the countryside and lurking in her doorstep, not to mention my bloody to.

Just relax, my lord. Everything's going to be all right.

You're a divine creature, a celestial being with sanguine skin and supple thighs.

I must confess I want nothing more than to bear you a son. The gift her ladyship has never been able to give, to be your actual mistress.

I promise Darling, it'll happen in due time. Now, do you have any clotted cream? Patrol. Um. Hypothetically speaking, could you ever envision me as an adequate replacement patrolcy if his gout were to worsen or something unforeseen were to happen to him?

What a perfectly absurd idea. Mr. Halifax, you jest, but if your insinuations were designs, I'd have to have you sent to the gallows. Now resume licking my bum before I give it another thought.

Of course, my nation.

Did you poison him?

Of course not. Did you?

Of course not. Probably just being dramatic. It doesn't handle pain very well. Is she any closer?

She's playing coy, but coming around. You'll see. By the time the Devers leave. Leslie didn't happen to hear anything, did you? You weren't eavesdropping, were you?

Spying like a Weasley knave. Come here, little shit. Come here. Essie. Help.

Help. Horace. Lesley.

Come here. They're all objectary letters, every one of them.

Or Dean Swift.

No.

Lord Cumberland?

No. They're all very genteel, but they're rejections nonetheless. It appears that no one wants to attend the dinner for fear of having to travel during an outbreak. We regret to inform you. We cordially have to.

It is with a heavy heart that I must decline your invitation.

It was as if with each rejection, he could hear them snickering. He wasn't noble enough, gentlemanly enough, smart enough. No matter what he did or how much he spent, what paintings adorned his walls or clothes, his person, Chauncey could never escape the simple fact he was born with the wrong last name.

Move your hand to the right. Bottom corner. Yep, that's it. And then up, up, up, up, up, up.

Higher, higher, higher.

Up, up, up. No, no. Now you've gone too far. Come down. Up on the left.

That's it. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

Keep going. Keep going.

Keep.

Keep. No. Keep going. Keep going. No, no, no, no, no.

Careful, careful, careful, careful. And now down a little. Yes, yes, yes. No. Stop.

What do you think? Darling? Darling.

No.

In her husband's absence, Lady Savage had commanded the ship qu. Quite admirably, leaving no stone unturned. She had led her listless staff the way a great general might stage a siege.

Mr. Derby, those vases don't belong there. They live in the parlor room.

Or.

Dramatist.

His opening night, Mr. Walker.

Darling. Doesn't it wonderful? Mr. Walcott, you've improved enormously. That pear is tart and delicious.

We'll have this. This, this, this and this.

Of course. Mom.

Ms. Neville. Is that a stain? Sorry, Mom. What if the Duke were to see it?

In his fragile state, Chauncy could no longer see the beauty of their home, only its warts. He became transfixed by a minuscule crack on a distant wall. The corner of a painting slightly askew. A sliver of dust on the mantle. Nothing was right.

A sort of madness had begun to sink in that could not be hindered or halted. Like an undercooked souffle, he was collapsing into himself.

Would you like some wine, sir?

No, no, he would not. Would you, darling?

Darling, It's. What happened to. What's his name? Oh, the toothless fellow. I haven't seen him all day.

Leslie. Yes, that's it. Horace. Where's Horace? He must have disappeared, sir.

Please. People don't just disappear. Perhaps he quit. Or joined the Jacobites. Horace wouldn't do that.

We had a connection.

Darling, can. This way.

He can't. Have you seen him? No, sir. Where the hell is he? I don't know, sir.

Maybe he fell ill with the pox or ran off with a barmaid. Well, find him, goddammit. Do I have to do everything myself? The Duke's dinner is an ay day now. I'm surrounded by idiocy, and that's Shall.

Please, sir, stand still. If you ever want me to finish this expeditious, hackneyed portrait of familial fortry and counterfeit love, then you will do me the kindness to stand bloody sill. I'm sorry, sir. I. I spoke out of turn.

I. I did not mean any offense. I. I have been under a great deal of stress and I am simply trying to illuminate familial forgery and counterfeit love. You, Mr.

Roose, have tact, taste and artistic acumen of a blind infant painting with his own feces. You little shit. I never heard such abrasive brush strokes in my life. May I remind you that it is you who works for me? You've been paid handsomely for your rapidity, and if I hear any more grumbling or grievance, I shall have no choice but to carve up your hands with a hatchet.

Am I understood? And you, dearest Reginald, mutinous dissident, are you trying to thwart and undermine this glorious dinner with your incessant incompetence? Hmm? Not only can you not lead your staff, apparently you cannot find them. And you, you're no better.

With your sympathetic ear, your generous bosom, your callous cunt and clotted cream, you're a chocolate covered spider. Where's Angus? Angus Walker. The only man in England who can cook a cow that even I cannot eat. You see this?

What did the Duke say? This entire house is covered in a film of filth and poverty. Our food is wretched, our. Our flowers stale. Our staff missing.

It has to be perfect. I will not be mocked. Nothing is right. Where's Horace? Where's Horace?

Who?

Your father's dead, my darling. And he has been for many years. Just. Just breathe.

What will the Duke think of us? I'm a monstrous sight. Look at us. A hunchback of Yorkshire in this house of horrors.

Be calm, my love. Be God.

Someone should sort out that crack. Your condition has worsened precipitously. How? Have you been taking your medication? Following my strict instructions.

I've fallen gravely ill, Doctor. Can't you feel my fever? You have no fever, sir. Perhaps it's pox. All the sweating sickness and all those wretched Bennets have poisoned me.

From my position, I can assure you you have not been poisoned, sir. It is merely gout. You just need rest. There's no time to rest. The Duke and Duchess are coming.

Search the Bennet's house at once. I demand it. Odis. Butchers. This is negligence.

Wickedness. Why don't we try a little laudanum to ease the pain? Now stick your tongue out and say ah. Ah. Now.

Opium. I shall apply the leeches.

One.

Two. Slimy looch. Yes, this one's a clever one. And my favorite. 4.

My best leech. Now, they will help. But you must follow my dietary instructions if you are to heal in time for your dinner. You have my word. God, I'm going to be late.

Where am I? What do I got? Here's my wife. If somebody sees me where the Duke sees me. You're going to be here in a moment.

The Joyce. Coming. The Duke is coming. Is everyone there? Reginald?

Dorothy? Georgina. Ocean world. Morning. Hello.

Hello. Sorry. Rachel. How could you?

He's.

I wonder whether we might just go back to the way things were a moment ago and pretend this never happened. Your cock is inside my wife. Is that my wig? Please, sir, let's not do anything brash. Juice wine.

You've left me no choice of the matter. I'm afraid I must. You mustn't. I must. He mustn't demand e satisfaction.

Really?

Chauncy found himself in a moral quandary of the most complex nature.

Double bubble toil, trouble, passions burn and bats a double

to defend his honor and adopted family name.

Yes.

Or to possibly kill his best and frankly, only friend.

I've never dueled without Reginald. Frankly, he usually defended my honor. I don't know what to do. Perhaps I should use the other footman as my second.

My love, he doesn't even know how to load a proper pistol, let alone the rules of duelling. No. As much as it pains me, you'll be foolish to select anyone other than Mr. Bennet.

But then we'd have to invite him to the dinner.

It's the lesser of evils, given the circumstances. Besides, no one else has confirmed yet. How's your foot, my love?

Leeches have helped. Why? Why did you have to fornicate with him? Why? No.

Well, it's actually been going on for quite a while. But that's neither here nor there. Why did you have to demand satisfaction?

I had no choice. I'm a gentleman.

Well, you've picked a funny time to start acting like one. Beg you. I beg you, my love. Please don't go through with this.

I must. But why?

Why can't it wait until after the dinner?

I can't have him serving the Duke and Duchess in front of me. It'll be humiliating, but no one will know. I'll know.

But it's suicide. I need not remind you, of all people, that Reginald is a marvellous shot. Not to mention the blatant hypocrisy of it all.

But. Hypocrisy?

I was simply trying to make you jealous and have a little fun. Whereas you, my darling, have a plethora of lovers, including my own lady's maid.

But I'm allowed to. I'm a man. Whereas you, my love, however glorious, are a woman by law, my property.

I'm well aware, husband, that everything that you own has been handed down and procured through my family. So let's not mince words. It's hypocrisy of the highest order.

I never knew you cared.

You're my husband. Of course I do.

But you never said a word.

Wife doesn't.

Well, I can't go back now. It's too late. I'll look weak and indecisive.

Oh, This wasn't the plan. How could you be so careless?

Everything's under control, my love. The man couldn't shoot a tree in a forest. This is our moment. Trust me. Everyone knows there's a vast chasm in our ability of shot.

And I'm a far taller target to hit. Not to mention I have a much bigger head. As daunting as it might seem, we must go through with it. It's the only noble thing to do. You can't be made a cuckle by your bloody.

I can hear the gossips already. It'd be a stain you'd never be able to rub out. You simply must. Of course, I wouldn't think of it as your second. I can't help but ask.

How's our invitation looking? Well, there's been an enormous amount of interest, but it simply wouldn't be the same without you and Mrs. Bennet. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I've heard from reliable sources the Duke and Duchess are quite excited.

Your wife's wit, your keen eye with the cards. Oh, it's going to be an absolute riot. Indeed. Look, I know this might sound crude or indelicate. Carp for horses, twere.

But may I? We receive the Duke if you happen to perish in the duel.

What?

You know, just in case. As a precautionary measure. I hope this finds you well and that you have a lovely dinner. I also hope to never see you again. Hans Roose.

I love the pheasant.

Did anyone see you? Will this suffice?

I don't understand.

For a momentary lapse in shot.

You want me to spare him?

Yes.

Why? I can replace him.

He's a dim and selfish man and a poor shot, I know, but I love him.

Do you? You are a woman of profound wisdom and strength. He's a petty opportunist who flogs your lady's maid.

I'm readily aware of how we look from the outside. But we love each other in our peculiar way. I know the rumors that he swindled me for my fortune. But that wasn't the case at all. I chose him.

His ambition, his zeal. He wasn't some stuffy suitor, inbred and idol. He was. Oh, he was fun. Life would be many things, but it would never be dull.

No, I refused to marry well and find myself in the enviable position of being nothing more than an elegant rug decorating my husband's drawing room. It's a virtuous life, I'm sure. Duty over desire, obligation over happiness. But that's not the life that I chose to live. I chose him.

I don't know if this sounds odd, but I truly believe that it's all been leading to this moment, to this dinner. And I refuse to let some lustful tryst, as pleasurable as it might have been, destroy it. Please don't kill him. Please. Reginald.

Come on, dobby. Aim for the head. The heart. The throat. I really don't care.

But shoot straight and you'll have a handsome promotion on the other side. Why is everyone trying to bribe me? I've heard tales of your mother. Marksmanship and dubious dealings. You're a killer, my boy.

I assure you, your compensation is kind.

These were your spectators. Spectacles.

They make me look bookish and fat. If I'm going to die, I'm going to look body good while doing it. I'm sorry I was so cruel the other night. I wasn't myself. I love you now more than anything in the whole world.

And I'm not just saying that because I'm at death's door. How could you? You put me in an impossible position. It was you to satisfaction, sir. Let's not point fingers.

I'm sorry, sir. Perhaps we can resolve this matter by merely nicking one another in a fleshy thigh or. Or losing a pinky. No one need lose their life this evening. We're nearly there, gentlemen.

I love duel, Sir. Chauncey, as the assailed, you may call. Heads. Heads it is The. Chauncey has won the toss and shall fire first.

Mr. Halifax must stand your ground, gentlemen. 10 paces. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Sat.

Didn't you feel that gust of wind, Mr. Bennett? There must be a technicality for such an occurrence. I should have another shot, shouldn't I, sir? Chauncey, I'm afraid you must stand your ground and receive Mr.

Halifax's fire. Then, and only then, may you return shot. Sam. Knock. Have you received satisfaction?

Do I look fucking satisfied, you insipid. Bored. Jesus. I thought you were just gonna nick me. You nearly ripped my bloody arm off.

You challenged me to a duel, sir. You should be grateful I didn't rip your head off. You ungrateful little. Gentlemen. You must stand your ground.

Once more, sir. Chauncey, it is your turn to return fire. Get the doctor.

Even though the shot was sheer luck, Chauncey was consumed with guilt. It ate away at his gut like hemlock.

Get the gun, Top.

In the end, Reginald Halifax perished in the very place he had been birthed. In the muck.

Good shot, old boy. What time should we arrive for dinner? Make sure you leave enough for the. For the head. There.

I'm certain you will not listen, but you must not drink. It thins the blood and your wound is deep. Do you understand. It? You're nice.

My arm is shut.

Oh, I'm sorry, my love. Where's Reginald?

I played him on the battlefield. Took his head right off.

What?

Why do you look so surprised. Is it he you wish returned in victory?

No, no, no, I.

Let's not overdo it now. Better him than me. I'm your husband, so shut up.

He's dead.

It's true. He's currently lying headless in a ditch near the pond. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but what's done is done. He was a good friend. Excluding the incidents where he sullied my wife.

Nonetheless, he'll be missed. I know I've been a wretched fool these past few days, but you've all done a remarkable job with the place. Now, fetch a bottle of bubbly so we can celebrate. Ch. 1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner.

The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. Dobby.

Dobby.

Dobby.

Dobby.

The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. The Duke and Duchess are coming for dinner. You.

It. Sam. Reginald. Reginald, come and see. Oh, right.

Of course. That's odd. Darling, does this look a little funny?

Oh, my love, it's gangrenous. You need to see a doctor immediately.

It's nothing, really. Just a little burn. There's too much to do for the dinner this evening.

Has this all been worth it? Digging ourselves into ruin? Felling your best friend your gout and your gangrenous arm?

This is the only thing I was ever really good at. And with you, my love, I found my partner in crime. This is my chance to finally prove that I belong.

You do belong, my love.

We both know I carry the odious stench of an outsider. One that no perfume, however floral, can eradicate or quell.

Oh, it's not how you were born, it's how you live that shows the depth of your character.

Tonight's going to be perfect, I promise. Is that the arm? I'll have it rewrap. Excuse me. Stinks

it.

Mr. Black. How dear of you to visit. Mr. Louden.

It's been too long. Officer. What. What seems to be the problem? Don't play aloof with me, savage.

Your shameful trickery is over. We have a warrant for your arrest. Trickery? Arrest? I see your pox has healed well.

Indeed. Hamburg, was it? The West Indies, perhaps? Your valet? Ah, I see.

My valet, of course. I thought this might concern him. Concern him? There's been a grave misunderstanding. You see, my valet, Mr.

Halifax, apparently was running a Duplicitous scheme to fleece my family and trusted associates such as these fine men. Poppycock. The man's a liar and a scoundrel. Sir. Sir.

Now, where might we find this Mr. Halifax? Reginald Stanley Halifax. Unfortunately, he fled in the night after I confronted him. I'd like to file a report at once.

Oh, of course. This is ludicrous. I don't believe a word of it. What are your plans for this evening, gentlemen? I beg your pardon?

We're receiving the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire for dinner and thought you might like to attend. We can discuss this sordid little affair over a good bottle of wine, like gentlemen. Really? The Duke and Duchess of Devonshire tonight? Be settled, then?

We'd be honoured. Honoured? After poor Leslie's disappearance and Reginald's death, it seems you're now my longest tenured footman. Thus promoted to valet. Congratulations.

Thank you, sir. Oh. Considering your predecessor's digressions, I thought it best to lay some ground rules. Namely, do not fuck my wife. Of course, sir.

You have risen quick due to a miraculous circumstance. You and I are not that dissimilar. What's your name again? James, sir. James Darby.

Wait. Right. Strong name. Now, we need to find two replacements quick for this evening's dinner. We don't have much time.

Oh, Sir Darby, do you smell? Smell what, sir? Oh, never mind. Oh, look at those two fine men. Stop.

Stop at once. Yes, you two. You're not Jacobites, are you? Do you have all your limbs, including fingers? Jimmy, come closer.

How about your teeth? Top, bottom, good Enough. Spend it. I don't like the look of them, sir. Behave, Darby.

You didn't look much better when I first found you. What about the eye patch, sir? Oh, I quite like it. Nice touch. All wounds from the battlefield, eh?

Say for less, sir. Oh, looks heroic nonetheless. I've been looking for two fine men such as yourselves. I'd like to offer you each a decent job and meal for the evening. Deal?

Excellent. Excellent. Tally ho. Pot on. This is the only warning you're going to get, so heed it well.

Do not take advantage of Sir Savage's charity. He may be a kind and magnanimous man, but I can assure you I am not. Tonight is of great importance. No mistakes will be tolerated.

Am I understood?

Good. Now clean up and scrub hard or I'll do it for you.

This is it, the reason and reflection for all our tireless work. The Duke and Duchess shall be joining us for dinner this evening, so let's be our very best. When one looks Back on one's tedious and often aimless life. These are the days, the moments that one shall remember. So chop chop.

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Everything all right?

Oh, it's perfection. Good.

Unknowingly, and rather ironically, Chauncy had invited two Jacobites into his home. They weren't especially politically minded, but they did, however, enjoy their looting and occasional pillaging.

Down with the room.

And to make matters worse, Mr. Darby had discovered an unfortunate bout of the pox. He knew full well the potential ramifications, losing his life, infecting his charitable employers, perhaps even the duke and duchess, but feared losing his stately new post as valet. He wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, or fingernails, for that matter. However miraculous or inevitable.

Jacobites and the pox had infiltrated savage houses without anyone being the wiser. Underneath its shimmering shell, a darkness had slipped through the cracks. In the words of Mrs. Bennet, evil was afoot.

And do you swallow the swords as well?

Papa, it's.

It's coming. It's coming. Mama. Papa, it's. It's coming.

It.

What the.

What the hell? Darling, get the doctor.

What?

I'm going to have to cut off your arm or you're going to die. Try to stay calm. Can't it wait till tomorrow? I'm afraid not, sir. But the duke and duchess are coming.

Sir, please. You're going to die. I'd like to thank you all for your generous attention. Attendance. And.

I'd like to thank you all for your generous attendance and decorous gifts. We are humbled and honored to host the duke and duchess on such a glorious. Oh. Evening. Such a glorious.

Such gloss. Oh, courage. More fre. No ears. Duchess.

On such a glorious evening. Need help, sir? Not sir, Darby. Just give me a moment. Oh, not bad.

Oh, boy. Not bad at all. A final touch.

I know you were quite fond of Mr. Halifax. I hope you don't hold his unfortunate passing against me, that we can continue working together as we were with this whole sordid mess behind us. If tonight goes as planned, then we all stand to gain immeasurably.

But.

Well, I hope you can forgive me as I have forgiven you. Yes, mom? The moon passed in front of the sun for exactly 3 minutes and 33 seconds precisely, as Mr. Haley had predicted. You're a radiant creature, my love.

I don't know how or when it happened, but you're all grown up. But I loathe grown ups, Mama. I know now. No talk of eclipses and Mr. Haley at the Dinner.

And certainly no mice. I don't know what's wrong with them. Guinevere and Wally are acting terribly bizarre. They keep walking in circles and making the strangest of sounds.

Oh.

Doesn't sound good, does it? Stand still.

I'm trying.

Does it hurt?

Unfathomably. Do you think anyone will notice?

Compliments to the chef, mom.

You've outdone yourself, Mr. Walker. Well done. Thank you, sir. Must be the Duke.

They're early. You see. Here, my love. Darby, Is your arm all right? Oh, it's you.

How lovely to see you. Are they here yet? Not yet. Oh, splendid. I hope you don't mind we came a little early.

No, no, not at all.

Oh.

As a precautionary measure, I feel I should warn you that there were certain complications after the duel and Chauncey's arm had to be amputated.

Is he all right?

No, he's in perfect health, excluding the missing limb. But I implore you not to speak of or to look at his arm or lack thereof.

Not a word. Lady Savage. I hope we're not intruding.

Oh, no, not at all. You must be Mr. Black. What a pleasure to meet you. As a precautionary measure, I fear I should warn you.

Civil war was so. She collapsed and died.

But he didn't.

He had penile warts and she did too. Well, we're here. Should have been with us, of course, but the best laid plans.

You can't host a dinner was half

an hour, can you?

It's grotesque.

I suppose they made a decent fist

of it to sell the R Family.

Aliens, apparently. Really? Mother's earrings.

Darling, however did you procure such an invitation?

Mr. Savage is a very dear colleague.

Oh, darling, when the time comes, would you like me to cut up your food for you so it's not to draw attention?

Where are they?

As the hours began to slip away, an unsettling dread washed over the room. Fanny fed her sickly mouse beneath the

table

as Chauncey's nub bled through its band.

Darling. Darling, I think you're bleeding.

Whispers and glances of suspicion spread, parched throats cleared.

Darling, do you think they're coming?

I don't know.

It's getting late.

I know, darling.

They're not coming, are they?

They're coming. They're coming.

Perhaps they're fashionably late.

Fashionably. I knew it.

Everyone perched perilously still, as if posing for a portrait, when the one eyed Jacobite's knees began to grow flimsy.

Don't even think of it, sir. What Nothing. You've been fed, bathed and paid handsomely to stand your ground till the completion of our dinner, whenever that might take place. No one is surveillance. Not an inch knotted errant cough or flared nostril.

Am I understood? Hmm?

Hmm.

Look at that. How dare you. Don't look at me. I'm idiots.

Pardon me, I be excused.

Everyone is the real as they are. They could be here any second.

Darling, calm. Be calm.

Sam. Reginald. Reginald, answer the door. It's them. But.

Darby, quickly, answer the door. Yes, sir. It's him. It's him. From the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire.

Good day. It's.

We hope this letter finds you well. It has come to our attention that Lord Vernon and his family didn't have pox after all. They're doing quite well now and in good spirits, and thus the Duke and Duchess will sadly not joining you. We hope our indecision has not brought you any inconvenience or harm and hope to meet you on our next tour. Our footman shall arrive tomorrow to retrieve our luggage.

Sincerely, the House of Devonshire.

The Duke and Duchess would, of course, never come, and the savages would fall precipitously into ruin. Their reckless spending and careless behavior would leave their once illustrious home nothing more than a poisonous plot, a crippling burden for young Fanny and generations to come. When one can see consumes at such a perilous pace, purchasing and devouring everything around them, inevitably they'll devour themselves from limb to limb. A rake's progress is one of descent and degradation, for the social ladder can be precarious if you're not careful.

Sit still. Finally, savage. Sa.

Sa. It.