Original subtitles

I was born a good story.

And I'll be remembered for blowing the family fortune

whilst dancing in jewels.

But it was never about the money.

Treat his Lordship as you would his father, the Marquess.

- He is the now head of this household. - Yes, sir.

- Oh, and Ffion. - Sir?

Keep this key safe.

Lily!

The swell is unusually gentle.

Never underestimate the Swellies!

- The Swellies! - The Swellies!

Indeed.

What was it Nelson said?

The man who can navigate the Menai Strait...

- Can navigate the world. - Quite!

Quite.

And here she comes.

- Don't run. - Good grief!

Lily.

Oh, there he is!

When you've seen one lord, you've seen them all.

Good afternoon, my Lord. Welcome to Anglesey Castle.

I'm the butler. Your father liked to call me Gelert.

My Lord, this is your aunt, Lady Chetwynd.

My Lord.

Is that Parisian fashion?

Your Lordship, Neville... Neville Fitzroy.

It is my pleasure and privilege

to assist you as you acclimatise to your new life here.

Lily.

We are cousins.

Gelert said I was to isolate.

Hence my use of protection, sir. Gelert doesn't know it all.

This is Wales.

The weather can be brutal, like the people.

Sea air is good for the chest.

Henry. Henry?

The bark...

is soft.

Big.

Big tree.

- Stop! Stop! Stop! - Whoa!

Hello!

Come here, I'm so proud of you.

My Lord, are you perhaps thinking that the scullery

is perhaps a more appropriate location for washing your dog?

- Queenie's too delicate for cold water! - Oh.

Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay

Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay

Fa-la De-jay-de

Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay...

News from Father? He didn't respond to my letter.

My Lord, your father is the Fourth Marquess of Anglesey.

- He is heavily committed with his... - Third wife?

My Lord.

Surely he'll want to see me?

I wish to visit him.

Without invitation, it is not done.

Here, a handkerchief, sir.

Do you have a father?

I had the privilege of a childhood...

spent in the orphanage, sir.

So, Gelert isn't your real name?

Oh no, sir, your father named me after a dog.

Where's Lily?

Loneliness will kill me.

Miss Lily takes her meals privately

with Lady Chetwynd and her family.

Allow me, sir.

Very sensible to avoid alcohol, my Lord,

in the interest of my Lordship's health.

There you are my Lord.

It's time for your tonic.

- And what about Queenie? - Oh, strong as Zeus, my Lord.

Thanks partly to the finest cuts from Your Lordship's plate.

Oh, Lady Chetwynd, Mr Neville, and Miss Lily will be joining you for tea.

Thank you very much.

Perhaps not, though.

Yes!

Oh!

A feast worthy of Marie Antoinette.

Very good, my Lord.

Is your mother still alive, Fifi?

Yes, sir. I'm gonna visit her on Sunday.

You should take her a present.

Here, have this. She'll love it!

- Time for you to get dressed... - Gelert darling, order another teapot.

Very well, my Lord.

Be gracious.

- This is his property. - He wouldn't force us onto the streets.

- Worry not, Mama, he seems fun! - Hmm.

Tea, then we shall leave the gentlemen to their business.

Oh, what gentlemen they are!

Indeed.

Hello.

Hmm... Gelert.

- Do sit down, Neville. - Miss Lily.

My Lady.

He's late.

It is most irregular.

Hello!

Oh!

Afternoon!

With the dog?

This is Queenie.

- Oh, Lord! - You are well acquainted, Neville.

Queenie! She's so cute!

Teal

Oh, allow me, my Lord.

No! Fifi...

One lump or two, dear?

What?

- Nothing, my Lord. - Okay.

Hello.

May I... advise you on your next frock?

Tea, Neville?

Ridiculous creature!

- Is she hurt? - What have you done, Neville?

Are you okay, Queenie?

Fine, that's enough! Come on, I'll look after you.

Bloody family!

Lily. Lily!

I thought you were going to be such a stiff.

Why?

Because everyone is.

Don't go back there. Stay with me.

There's a whole world of fun to be had besides embroidery.

Who said I like embroidery?

I'm going to call you "Toppy".

What?

Toppy.

But this was His Lordship's first social engagement in Britain, sir.

And the last in this reckless fashion.

Thankfully it was only family exposed to the circus,

but I shall inform the Lord Paget there is much work to be done.

It is I who have been formally charged with the protection of His Lordship.

You'll be relieved to hear your generous rump hasn't hurt Queenie.

- Sir... - So you may sleep soundly tonight.

Sir, if you will...

your papa has entrusted me

with the broadening of your cultural horizons.

What does that mean?

Your Lordship, Mr Neville has been briefed by your father, the Marquess,

to represent the family in supporting your transition to public life.

- Father trusts you? - Implicitly.

And given today's antics, we should start forthwith.

Walk with me.

- Bien sûr! - My Lord.

Your forefathers are responsible

for building the Empire with loyalty, industry and self-sacrifice.

I shall commission one of ma mère.

Your mama is not of this lineage.

- Blanche birthed the next marquess. - As your duty is to your papa...

you must learn to behave as a lord,

and respectfully evoke these great men, upon whose shoulders we stand.

I am already one of these, Neville, and not only by blood.

Look at the way they pose, their costumes, theatricality.

I already know them, because...

I am of them.

Sir's decorum is sadly lacking.

To be born of the ruling classes is to accept a rare responsibility.

- Decorum never ruled the world. - No, wealth does!

Money.

- And if I spent it all? - You couldn't if you tried, sir.

Is that a challenge, Neville?

- Damn it! - What the...

God!

Be careful of Blanche!

You cannot serve tea to the staff,

don your mother's frock in public, and carry this.

It is not done!

Whatever I wear, sir,

I am still heir to this illustrious dynasty.

Clothing changes nothing.

Now, come on.

On with the tour.

- Gelert, darling. - Yes, my Lord?

I dreamt an idea to tempt father.

Unfortunately, my Lord, your father has been dedicated...

Would he miss an opportunity to meet his tenants en masse?

For my 21st, let's invite the islanders here for a picnic.

The entire island?

- Order every ampule available. - Very well, sir.

And rouge.

No need to look like shit just because one feels it.

- Of course not, sir. - Into bed, then.

There we are.

- What would I do without you? - Well...

- someone would come along. - I'm sorry. Really, I am.

Why did my father name you Gelert?

Once upon a time, a Welsh prince, Llewelyn,

had a much-loved dog, Gelert.

And, well, they always went hunting together.

Until one day, an heir was born,

and then Llewellyn went hunting on his own,

leaving Gelert to watch over the baby.

One night, on his return, the prince found an upturned cradle

and Gelert smeared with blood.

Convinced that he'd killed the child,

Llewellyn drew his sword and slayed the hound.

As Gelert yelped for the last time, the baby cried out.

Llewelyn lifted the cradle to see his son unharmed,

but lying beside him was a dead wolf.

It is said Llewelyn never smiled again.

Will you keep the wolves away?

Goodnight, my Lord.

Oh darling, I'm not fit for Dick.

Your father has finally accepted

that you are his true heir.

It's so far away.

Untold riches, hmm?

New lands. But not without you.

You can take me with you, look!

I don't know how to be a lord.

I'm scared.

Always be true to yourself, Henry.

It's the greatest gift you have.

Oh, she's moved, has she?

Better?

Divine.

Williams' Swiss Violet Cream for shaving,

a tin of Dr Bellois Lozenges, Ayer's Cherry Pectoral,

Holloway's Ointment,

a menthol inhaler,

Dr Booker's celebrated Egyptian Oil, and a thermometer.

And anything for...

night terrors?

Right.

Calcarea carbonica, sir. A homeopathic treatment.

Very effective, if I do say so myself.

My dear man...

thank you for caring.

- How dare you come out without me! - Well, you're never about.

They plot and plan to keep us apart, but Mama had a headache.

You escaped?

Well, I just had to see you!

Well, you know...

Happy to deliver anytime, sir.

Isn't shopping on account the most marvellous thing?

You're very well dressed for the rustic locals.

- Quite the exotic. - Hmm, thank you.

Well, Blanche, i>ma mère, introduced me to the finest of things.

- Which are? - Accoutrements.

- Gloves and hats? - No!

Silks, trims, pearl buttons...

- In fact, all types of haberdashery. - Well, then you'll love the draper's.

Oh!

Sometimes one simply needs to dance, and you make my heart sing!

Excuse me.

Come on now, everyone move back.

Move back! Move back, I said!

I told you to get back to work or leave the quarry peacefully.

You chose this.

Get out of the way!

Go on! Over here!

- You heard, everybody back. - Come on, for god's sake.

- What just happened? - Lord Penrhyn, from the mainland.

Starving his men back to work.

- Lord Penrhyn. - Oh, good day, Your Lordship.

John Wickens. Photographer.

My card.

Mama says photography is ungodly.

But how can they capture your soul in a box?

Tres jolie, monsieur!

Oh!

- Oh, I love that one! - I would look gorgeous in that!

Morris Price, jeweller.

- Enchanté! - Oh, lovely, yes.

Now, accoutrements!

- Good day, Your Lordship. - Hello.

- My Lady. - Sir!

Go on in.

I must set up an account here.

Magnifique!

Lily!

This is quite inappropriate.

Now stand absolutely still, the right knot is essential.

Will you stop!

That's embarrassing.

Lily.

Hey, freckles!

- Why do you always carry this? - I like to keep her close.

Blanche, I formally introduce you to Lily.

Enchantée.

She's lovely.

Mama ordered Neville to chaperone me.

Normally I can't open a window without him lurking, but...

Gelert kindly made my excuses.

- What does the old dragon fear? - The rules.

The aristocracy shuns women who hang out with men.

And the daughter of a dead baronet needs a blemish-free reputation.

But you're family, you old boot.

Until I'm married off, honour...

is this boot's only currency.

Do you really know my father? I'm the only one who doesn't.

I don't think he wants to know me.

If he does disown you, we shall all be affected.

The next heir might force Mama and I onto the streets,

- despite having grotesque riches. - Grotesque?

While you remain Lord Paget, you're disgustingly wealthy.

- How disgusting? - More money than sense.

Stick with me, chuckaboo.

Where's it gone!

Oh!

- Sir. - Thank you!

You only photograph graduates?

Sadly, Your Lordship, I am limited by the incomes of our community.

The university is my most loyal client.

Now what do they get up to?

The better question would be, what don't they get up to?

It is a theatrical hobby of mine. The bards of the annual Eisteddfod.

It's my 21st soon and I want a commemorative gift

for each man, woman, and child of the isle.

That is a magnificent gesture, sir.

Although it may take some weeks to produce an order of such a size.

If dimensions are an issue, how about something smaller?

Well, it is possible to print quickly in volume onto a postal card, sir.

Bijou representations of me could find their way beyond Wales?

Indeed. And then nations other than our own

may acquaint themselves with Lord Paget's...

inimitable style.

- Shall we say 200 cards? - A thousand! For now.

Let's saturate eyeballs the world over!

Now, where should I place my daddles?

As you were, sir. I can see that Sir is a natural model.

- Father is going to love this. - Patience, please,

whilst I facilitate the delicate mechanical process.

Hold... and still.

Still, still, still...

still...

Voilà!

- Is that it? - Oh, yes.

Oh.

- Shall we do the next one? - Good idea.

Your way. And still and still...

No, no, no, no... Thank you very much!

Yeah!

Oh, no, no, no!

There we are.

I'm afraid it was for the best, my Lord.

Father never replied, did he?

Well, Lord Paget's lawyers required his attention in the French Riviera.

It's my birthday.

Lord!

A mighty, mighty hammer!

A knickerbocker glory!

It was the most fabulous anniversaire, Father.

Neville said that everyone was asking after you.

I've bought you a little something, which I hope will amuse and entertain.

The very first motorised carriage on the island.

Exhaust fumes really are smelly, but...

I've solved the problem with a lavender box to scent the air.

Now we can take trips around our estate and...

you can teach me the secrets of land ownership.

Would you, Father?

In the meantime, I'm bringing my

joie de vivre to this...

rustic little island.

And I am trying my best to be a really good lord.

Well, we have done what we can.

I'm trying to secure our position here.

- Darling boy. - It's his exorbitant wardrobe

that's depleting our funds and jeopardising even our lodgings here.

I have repeatedly petitioned my brother to allow us to stay

at least until Lily is married.

Well, on that point I have some good news.

Indeed.

- Speak of the devil. - And he doth appear.

- Mama, Neville. - Lily, stand there.

Lord Penrhyn, welcome.

My pleasure.

Lily.

Leaving so soon? Lady Chetwynd?

Magnificent beast!

The fastenings are all Parisian.

For a taste of home, sir.

Oh!

Fifi, I'm famous!

Oh, sir!

- The Queen of Romania! - That's me, in the fabulous hat!

That neckline is so flattering, sir.

- Take one for your mother! - Thank you!

Mr Taylor, you have exceeded yourself with this sublime fabric.

Just...

- What's Lily doing? - Oh ju...

She's taking a walk with Lord Penrhyn, sir.

Marry him?

Normals should not set rules for exceptionals.

Although he is exceptionally old for you.

If this goes ahead, we'll never be able to do this again.

What, go for a walk?

You have no idea. You face the same fate, Henry.

- Your papa has never truly accepted you. - Nitwit!

Mama plans to keep us apart, and Lord Penrhyn...

Why? What?

To protect my honour.

What honour?

You need to secure your position.

You should provide your papa with an heir. Yes! Yes! Men love sons!

I am more than just credentials!

Or...

Or we could free each other.

Walk the aisle as allies. With a no-children guarantee?

Mutuals?

If we did, you must be true to yourself. Blanche would insist.

Protected by marriage, I'd be free to be myself.

And no... doing the bear.

I'll take your word for it. Come along, Mrs Paget.

Toppy! Marry me!

No! No!

Your Queen...

wishes to raise a toast to her fabulous bride...

and darling chum...

- Lily! - Hear, hear!

- Hip hip! - Hooray!

- Hip hip! - Hooray!

- Hip... hip! - Hooray!

- Toppy! - I say, sir,

the professional men and trades of Anglesey

would like to thank you very much for your loyal custom.

What's the occasion?

A wedding.

Is this a joke?

Shame!

The Fourth Marquess... will not believe it.

- Excuse me. - God, sorry.

So sorry!

Enchanté...

dear... wife.

Dear...

husband.

Regretting it?

Maybe we should have waited.

- You'd prefer Lord Penrhyn? - No! God, no, no, no...

I just...

I just...

feel so grown-up.

Hmm.

Let's never behave like grown-ups.

You could look a little more impressed.

Marvellous!

I have a physical attraction to jewels

that I am powerless to resist.

This glass simply isn't big enough.

I need a grander scale.

I wish I were a jewel.

The moon looks gorgeous tonight.

Toppy?

Toppy?

- Toppy! - My Lord!

Good dog, Queenie! Good girl!

Toppy!

Take your medication!

And my advice, huh?

Then we can someday live to toast

to your long and happy...

marriage.

Whatever... took him last night

has threatened his already weak lungs.

Is there anything we should do, sir?

Just enjoy every minute of health.

What does that mean, sir?

Let his Lordship seize every bloody day!

Hear hear!

Hello!

Bonjour, my... dirty darlings!

Well, we provide clean clothes, food, accommodation,

all entirely dependent upon patrons such as Your Lordship.

Is it just as you recall, Gelert?

Some things never change, my Lord.

- Hello. - Bonjour.

Bonjour!

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

- I'm very well. How are you? - Good.

- They like me. - They can't afford not to.

And what's your name?

Gelert, we need toys, clothes and bath salts.

Start at the pharmacy.

We're going to be good friends.

Medieval Europe.

Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Henry II of France.

Hold please, sir.

Still, still, still... Gorgeous.

Now close your eyes.

No, really, close your eyes.

Tudor England. Queen Elizabeth I.

King George IV's extravagant lifestyle earned him

the contempt of the people.

You must rest, Toppy.

- Remember the doctor! - Balderdash!

He said you must take your medication.

Seize the day when energy comes!

- Now remember, smart yet... - Sassy!

I wish I were wearing trousers.

Why do you never wear that tiara?

- On that matter of accounts, sir... - Chop-chop!

Now, the draper has some fine gossamer from Paris.

My Lord, might I cover your legs with this scarf?

- I'm just a bit worried about the draft. - No, no, no need!

- That's the point. - Oh!

My blood is quite high from my exercises.

- It is quite warm today. - It is not.

- Perhaps a shawl? - Oh...

- There you are. - Thank you.

I've missed you, Mr Fitzroy.

- How are our friends in London? - Well, talk in the capital is entirely

of Lord Paget and his stage "antics".

- They like me? - Your bizarre theatrical leanings...

- Are delighting the aristocracy! - Are causing mayhem for your papa.

Father ruined his own rep with three wives.

He still... writes you?

Yes.

And he reminded me in our recent correspondence

that Oscar Wilde rots in Reading Gaol for similar theatrical debauchery.

My Lord, the players have arrived with their luggage.

- Send them in! - Come on in.

Luggage?

Hello! It's lovely to meet you properly.

How long are they staying, Toppy?

Wilde, the idlest man in London!

That'll irritate those beaky peers!

- Is it complete? Or... - Not yet.

There are still wings.

Henry, it's just very unbecoming of a lord.

It's not a lord's outfit, it's a dancer's attire.

Your papa will hate it. Let alone Neville, the peerage...

Yet it will delight and entertain my friends and allies.

What? Because they'll see more than they expected?

My Lord, Mr Morris Price.

- Oh! - Morris!

Now Morris has imported rarities from the four corners of the globe.

Come on, dazzle me, Morris. I'm ready.

My Lord, what an original method to exhibit one's passion for gems.

I do hope you have a strong thread, Mr Taylor, some...

are quite weighty.

Morris!

- What a great choice. - Has he gone too far, Gelert?

It depends what we are using as a unit of measurement, Miss Lily.

- Sir, you are complete. - Oh, Toppy.

A living masterpiece.

Do you really think so?

Sir should be mindful of gyrating.

Ha, electricity!

You are always telling me of your bad qualities, Lord Goring.

I have only told you half of them as yet, Miss Mabel.

Are the others very bad?

Quite dreadful!

When I think of them at night... I go to sleep at once.

A scandalous entertainer in the bloodline.

Behaviour so un-English.

Clearly attributable to a French childhood.

This profligate hunger for fame comes at a very heavy price.

Be careful. It'll all be mine.

Be careful. There may soon be nothing left for you.

Unless his reign is fleeting.

Ill health.

What?

Ill health, my Lord.

Ill health.

Yes, of course.

Well, he's so pale, he's so fragile.

Of course...

Ill health.

Ladies and gentlemen, now for an exceptional and memorable

interval entertainment.

Lord Paget, the modern bard of fashion,

will seduce you as he presents the premiere

of his incomparable "Butterfly Dance".

Wonderful!

Bravo!

Nick Durrant?

"Dur-ront".

- It's French. - What brought you to my production...

Nick... "Dur-ront"?

You are a rare and unique proposition, sir.

Enough about me.

Tell me more!

A lord who doesn't care for the old-fashioned rules,

whose theatricality transgresses the status quo.

A man...

Who has the strength to be entirely himself.

Be yourself, everyone else is taken.

Sir should be free to imagine fantastical shows,

without being burdened by the mundanities of staging.

And Sir needs an ally to share his vision

and to realise subsequent shows at none less

than Sir's own high standards.

You, sir?

- Sir is wasted dancing in a parlour. - Drawing room.

A rare and unique individual, such as yourself...

deserves a professional stage and full-length curtains.

Red velvet.

Footlights, using the latest electric technology.

We must do something about the acoustics.

Of course.

Are you a godly man, sir?

Well, god gave me my talents,

he shouldn't mind that I have my own particular type...

of worship.

Then I shall make you a star.

Neville, how can you just stand by and watch?

Your husband, head of the house, let the vampires in.

Cheers.

- No whooper-ups, mind. - No, only trained professionals.

- Toppy! - Oh, guess what!

- I'm bringing theatre to the island. - I am fed up with those parasites.

- The Anglesey Castle Players? - Yes, they must go.

They live on site, as per contract.

They're taking advantage of you.

They are... They are employed by me.

As now is Mr Durrant, our producer.

Congratulations, Mr "Dur-rant".

- I wish to speak... - "Dur-ront", as you were.

I wish to speak with my husband alone.

Sweetheart, hello. Tell Mummy, "Daddy will be there soon".

Toppy, do not let him speak for you.

My Lady.

- Please tell me! - What?

- Have I upset you? - No.

No!

Then why not invite your oldest friend to your wedding?

- It just happened, suddenly. - You were clearly not with child.

- No. - So why marry your first cousin?

Because the alternative was unthinkable.

Mama needed a home,

and Toppy was always fun, when it was just us.

Yes...

Men are all the same.

I prescribe weekly visits to me, as a break from his...

egotistical madness.

- Clara. - Oh, I've missed you!

I can't believe you're a mother now.

Yes.

Oh...

Theatrical props by a trusted Liverpool firm,

who also do hand-painted scenery.

We must have the finest costumes.

Morris Angel and Son.

Shaftesbury Avenue, London. Gorgeous.

And the wigs can't itch, it's terribly distracting.

How's the script?

Sir has a particularly amusing role as the Vizier's son, Pekoe.

A funny fellow who's a bit moony over Yummy Yum, his guiding star.

- Pekoe? - That's right.

I... like it.

You'll love it!

I'll be playing Abanazar.

And brief John to photograph the cast.

And...

On the question of...

budget, sir?

Well, funds are available wherever creativity and inspiration are concerned.

It's not about the money, is it?

- No. - Good man.

Dear Father,

please would you teach me how to manage my financial affairs?

I want to be as exceptional as you,

but I fear that because I'm not as worldly-wise,

I will always struggle with budgets and numbers and responsibilities.

Gelert does all he can,

but you are the oracle of clever situations.

In other matters, the Anglesey Castle Players

have settled in nicely and Blanche Junior looks divine in our matching costumes.

How's that?

Sounds wonderful, sir. Very inspiring.

Good.

Could we go back to...

"I want to be as exceptional as you”?

- I'm afraid that's as far as I got. - Okay. Well, come on, keep up.

We need more wine!

Money is such hard work!

Talk to me about future productions that you want to put on,

because if we put on the right productions...

money will flow in and we won't have to worry about it at all.

Okay.

There, you love it!

- I'm having the best time. - It's your birthday.

- Amusing. - That's what's important.

We're here to celebrate Clara!

Right, cheeky.

Right!

I've got my eyes on you, Clara. And you!

- You're out, Penrhyn! - I'm out, sorry!

Yes, get out! Goodbye! Thank you!

Go again!

- Neville! - Oh, no! Really!

Your bizarre domestic situation

is causing all sorts of tongues to wag.

In the press, of course, and in the beer taverns of the nation.

- Do you know what they call you? - What? What do they call us?

The "Peculiar Pagets".

- Do you know what they call you? - No.

Lord Penrhyn, who starves his quarrymen.

Their wives and children beg for scraps, as you...

as you feast in the castle their pitiful blood has built.

Tell me about the marriage bed.

Excuse me?

Has it...

- the marriage, been... - What?

Has it been consummated yet?

- You should be proud, she's magnificent. - How dare you!

You monster!

You should put your wife on a leash, sir.

- Until she learns to behave like a lady. - Shame on you, sir!

For embarrassing Her Ladyship.

What is your issue with me?

What is it?

This obsession you have with my lifestyle?

Fun, is it?

Who wouldn't want to live in a dream, sir?

The trouble with dreams is, we have to wake up from them!

No wonder your father abandoned you.

Happy birthday, Clara. Choose any.

Lily!

He shall reduce our good name to an unpleasant anecdote

in the private clubs of Mayfair.

What?

You want to talk about us, Clara? Us! Not you!

Your husband should stop performing and protect his wife.

- I married him to protect myself. - Oh?

A marriage shared with a theatrical producer?

Your reputation is fragile, Lily,

you can't touch pitch without catching smear.

You!

You have the cheek to comment on my marriage in my own home,

yet at the same time happily accept Toppy's gifts.

We...

are the same.

Both smeared by his notoriety.

- Joining the Anglesey Players? - Ho ho.

What's less amusing is your husband

looting your family, our family, for baubles,

and discarding them as cigarette ends.

You wish you were next in line?

I would be better at it.

And I'd make sure you

and Lady Chetwynd were protected from... this.

- But you're not a Lord Paget. - Do you honestly believe he'll live

even five more years?

He's a consumptive, and upon his death you'll be forced to remarry.

But who will marry the widow of a showman shunned by his peers?

Or... we could do something.

What do you want in return?

Whilst he can afford it...

a divorce.

Profligate and shameful.

Single-handedly desecrating the beloved Paget ancestry

and ruining centuries of hard-won lineage

with his folly and extravagance.

- It's gone! - I'm sure it won't be far.

I had it here somewhere. I'm sure of it!

- Try to stay calm, for your health. - I've lost Blanche's cigarette case!

You left without me last night.

Oh, that fool, Penrhyn!

Me, Toppy, me! You left without me!

- Nothing to do with another drunk lord! - I was only half-rats.

- Judgement? - I'm your ally!

This excess that seems to be driving you, it's not you, Toppy!

- I've looked everywhere. - I'll look in the drawing room.

These gifts, this lifestyle, it is making you sicker!

Please.

I am living according to our plan.

You are not living according to Blanche's plan.

This relentless extravagance, it's not your truth.

Household running costs have escalated

beyond the means of this estate, my Lord.

We must face the facts.

We cannot sustain the theatre company.

I'm supposed to be rich.

In a way you are, sir, but you see,

the Paget estates across England raise substantial funds,

but for your father, the Marquess.

Until he... well...

until you receive the title,

you must depend upon income from the island.

Rental income from the island properties, which I've managed for you.

It will all be mine one day, can't we manage until then?

Lord Paget will terminate my employment if I can't balance the books.

I refuse to let that happen!

I'm sorry.

When my health allows, I must perform.

- Nothing else matters to me, Gelert. - Not even Her Ladyship?

I don't deserve Lily.

- Come. - Your Lordship.

Your Lordship.

Father wants to meet me.

Wonderful!

Alright!

I searched high and low, there is no mauve Welsh tweed.

- It's needed most urgently. - Quality garments take a week or...

Time is of the essence you see. We plan to leave this week.

No expense spared!

- Quite right. - For my father.

You're too ill to travel, Toppy.

At long last!

Now I can introduce you to your father, the Fourth Marquess.

I'll come too, to represent his Lordship's creative interests.

This shall be a private visit, for husband and wife.

- Should I have worn the pearls? - Would you like me to take the wheel?

No, I can do it, however long it takes.

Thank you, Neville, for taking care of Mama!

I... I... am more than happy to accompany you.

No, it's fine.

Give my best to the Marquess.

At last!

Father! I'm here!

Lord Paget?

Lord Paget, yes, that's me.

Lord Paget, Fourth Marquess of Anglesey...

My father, yes.

Is dead, Your Lordship.

Deepest condolences on behalf of the principal estate staff.

I...

You are the Most Honourable Fifth Marquess of Anglesey, my Lord.

Earl of Uxbridge and Middlesex,

Baron Paget of Beaudesert, the County of Stafford, et cetera.

Was His Lordship's death expected?

We have been sadly aware of His Lordship's declining health

- for some time. - He knew...

he was dying.

We're finally free, Toppy.

His Lordship instructed me to pass a keepsake on to you.

It belonged to your namesake, your great-grandfather,

Field Marshal Henry William Paget, the Most Honourable Marquess of Anglesey.

The First Marquess.

Is there a note?

Regretfully, no.

May I see him?

Of course, Your Lordship.

Too late.

Never good enough.

I've...

itched in this suit the whole way for you.

I built you a throne, Father.

But still you didn't come.

You should have seen my Butterfly Dance.

I was... magnificent.

Why didn't I come sooner?

Useless boy I am.

You never taught me how to be a lord!

You... never did that, I needed you.

Blanche was right about you.

- My Lord! - Calm down!

You're an utter bastard!

You have to go now! Calm down, sir!

Advise the Marchioness that I'd like to view her closet, sir!

Apologies, William, for any breakages or distress.

He doesn't know himself.

Which is why he'll empty us all of everything.

He's your charge, so take charge, sir,

or this tail of yours will certainly wag the dog.

I'll take care of this.

Summon my advisers, I intend to mortgage all the estates.

Mortgage?

Use the money to take the Anglesey Castle Players to the next level.

- What? - Nick, consider yourself green-lit.

We shall launch a complete season of events,

each designed to inspire and delight,

with all proceeds in aid of the orphanage.

- Variety? - An extravaganza of epic proportions!

Dancers, exotic animals, burlesque,

male impersonators, female impersonators,

a gift for every man, woman and child, jugglers, clowns,

marvellous curiosities!

Every night, and twice on Saturdays.

Nick Durrant presents an Anglesey Castle season

of unsurpassed magnificence.

Wales won't have seen anything like this.

We're gonna make history.

The Fifth Marquess

and the showman that made him.

We're gonna need coaches and boats to bring people in from the mainland.

It's gonna cost a pretty penny, but boy will we put on a show.

On the double, I've got a world to make.

What about the funeral?

That's very kind of you to offer.

You are, after all, the son he never had.

Theatre trumps family, hmm! Again.

Excellent choice. Excellent.

Actually, I'll take the lot.

Very good, sir. Very good, the lot!

I mean the lot.

Wonderful.

Yes.

Mr Spinks is a trusted business adviser of mine,

who has, as per your instruction,

opened a case regarding the Fourth Marquess' legal documents.

- My instruction? - As per your instruction, yes.

The Lord Paget's Last Will and Testament clearly indicates

that the next heir is his son Henry.

- We are very aware of that. - Patience. Please, sir.

Mr Spinks is greatly experienced in finding ways and means

of interpreting such documents, with specifically defined provision for...

illness of the mind. Hmm?

The Fourth Marquess was of sound mind right up until the end.

- Oh, Jesus Christ! - Undoubtedly.

However, our enquiry was directed at his heir.

If not in his correct mind, should the hereditary right stay with him,

or should it transfer to the next in line,

in order to protect the interests of the dynasty?

- May I speak to Lily first? - Let me have a word with her.

Neville.

We would do well to trust Mr Spinks. Hmm?

Really. Trust him.

- Love interest? - Sexy love interest.

I'll be the judge of that. Drag king, drag queen,

burlesque dancer, juggler, clown.

This is an original Nick Durrant production.

Rehearsals start at 9 am, prompt.

And...

what role do you have for me?

Oh!

No production of mine would be complete

without our patron and benefactor, the Dancing Marquess.

Quite.

The interval just wouldn't be the same without you.

Mr John Wickens, my Lord.

Sir, your promotional images.

I must say, the stage is looking particularly resplendent.

Send them to my father, marked "Hell".

Is it time for your nap, my Lord?

Sir, if I may, your account is somewhat overdue.

Help me, Gelert.

Come, my Lord.

Always be true to yourself, Henry.

It's the greatest gift you have.

Henry!

My boy, Henry!

This family is now constantly faced

with defending its reputation, thanks to yet more theatrics.

Exorbitance on such a grand scale indicates an unsound mind.

Single-handedly letting down the peerage.

- No, I can't go on. - You can.

- I can't. - You can.

You must.

What are you doing? Stop!

- Get off me! Stop! - Ffion!

Sir, stop it!

- Right, take anything you can sell! - Chop-chop! Take the lot!

Hurry up!

Sit down! What are you doing? Stop!

Ffion, call the police!

Go fetch.

- This is my money! - Good boy.

My Lord!

Ffion, come over here! Help me pick him up!

- Sir! - My Lord.

Come on.

He's got it in his nose.

Lady Chetwynd, Mr Spinks.

A fellow member of Whites.

You!

Okay.

Oh!

He has impoverished this island.

Distracted the islanders, used their wages to buy jewels.

Does that make you feel ashamed, Lily? Hmm?

He has betrayed you!

You should put him in an asylum!

- The Anglesey Players have gone. - You can divorce me.

In fact, I will pay you to divorce me,

and I'll arrange a rising income for you, for every year we stay divorced.

- Oh god! - Just...

please be my friend.

And Nick Durrant?

He's gone.

But not before the...

fool had dispensed with staff wages and piles of jewellery.

I've ruined everything.

You don't listen.

You're right, you're always right.

You're the only one who doesn't want anything from me.

That's not true.

I do.

Don't carry on so much, girl. These things happen.

- Nobody's died. - Sorry, sir.

You know, once his Lordship has got himself back on his feet,

we'll be back on the road to recovery.

Sorry.

Good girl.

- My Lord. - My Lord.

- Fifi, what's wrong? - Get on with you, girl.

Sir.

A matter of staff wages, sir. To make a saving.

We'll make it work somehow, Gelert.

I want to do something for Lily.

A surprise party in her honour.

Breathe, slowly.

I'll fetch your inhaler.

Oh.

My Lady.

I don't know what to do about Toppy.

Neither do I, my Lady.

Lily Paget!

You spoke of a falling out?

Champagne appears to have rekindled their friendship.

Not to worry, sir.

There is more than sufficient evidence of madness.

All we need now is a compliant doctor to commit him.

- We have a family doctor. - Bribeable?

Bring me the seal of the Fourth Marquess

and I will arrange...

everything.

Here it comes.

Bloody Wales.

That was marvellous.

Who are these people, Toppy?

Well, it's a fancy headgear ball. You're not supposed to recognise anyone.

Is there one of my friends here?

Must we do this now?

Come on.

John could have filled a whole album from tonight's affair.

You've failed him, Toppy.

I can't afford to pay them.

Nor could you afford tonight's party, but you still went ahead with it.

It's a sickness that you have.

And I don't mean consumption.

You're leaving me, aren't you?

Our marriage has been a ride,

but this is where I disembark.

Did Neville promise to take care of you when I die?

Yes.

Yes.

Gelert, what is he saying?

If you wish to protect the people of this island...

And their livelihoods.

Bankruptcy?

There is nothing more that can be done, sir.

- Estimates suggest... - Cautious estimates.

Estimates suggest, my Lord,

that you've amassed half a million pounds of accumulated debt.

No case I have ever seen has come close to this

level of reckless, irresponsible spending, sir.

Complete negligence towards the tradesmen who have supplied you.

You are in danger of losing the entire Paget fortune.

The land here which has given employment, protection,

to the people of this island for centuries.

Furthermore, your tenants will be swallowed up by this debt.

You have stolen the trust of all those

who have depended on you for their livelihood

and forever impoverished their families.

By laying waste to the business community,

the islanders will be forced to migrate to the mainland.

To Lord Penrhyn's quarries.

John.

He's here.

- Exquisite suit, sir. - Don't.

No, I've said it.

Thank you, Mr Davies.

Forgive me for being blunt, sir.

You have set me free.

I never asked to be titled.

My highest achievement was...

becoming Mr Lily Paget.

I've an idea. It won't make up for everything, but...

it should help some of those I've wounded.

It is regretful, sir,

but despite your idiosyncrasies,

you are very well liked on the island.

Please consider the highest possible values in your estimates today.

The folk of this island, who I have so let down,

deserve the best price for their goods and services.

In the absence of mental clarity,

power transfers to the next heir.

- The Marquess never mentioned... - Lord Paget's legal advisers

drew up this document to protect the lineage.

It states that until the next heir is chosen,

you shall answer to Mr Fitzroy.

The wheels of progress are cruel, Mr Spinks.

He did this to himself, with his bad behaviour.

Bad behaviour?

I am preserving the line for future generations.

The keys, Gelert.

What are you doing Ffion? There's work to be done.

They're gonna do something bad to his Lordship.

What?

And you can't fine me, sir, because I'm not being paid.

Have you still got that key?

You have taken advantage of his Lordship's trusting nature.

You were perfectly happy to take his money until it ran out.

You, sirs, are guilty of encouraging him.

- His Lordship invited it. - He likes to shop.

- Shall these bills never be paid? - For god's sake, sir!

Is there nothing more to life than money?

- Four shillings for this? - Yes, sir.

It's a pound at least, surely?

There is a legal document,

drawn up to protect this estate, which ensures

that his Lordship will be committed to an asylum.

I don't understand.

His Lordship may have danced in jewels, but the chap's not insane.

You can't reduce someone's whole life...

to the size of their debts.

We provided his Lordship assets in good faith.

Now, you cannot deny, we have been badly let down here.

Morris, you have benefitted greatly from this.

We all have.

Benefitted?

Benefitted?

I've acquired jewels from the finest suppliers.

I've turned a business from a humble backwater

into a luxury destination,

and all on the promises of a dreamer!

And when you look at it like that...

It's been brilliant!

- Marvellous! - Beautiful!

- Shall we all have a little drink? - Oh, very good idea, yes.

Don't blame me for what Mr Fitzroy has done.

I've only ever done my best for you.

You and I, stronger aligned.

He cannot deny us, together.

Not now, Mama.

I love you.

Step aside!

Keep that rabble out until we've taken His Lordship away.

- If that proves to be necessary. - My Lord, it is not dignified.

Don't lecture me about dignity.

The Fifth Marquess always wanted an audience.

- My Lord. - Come on, quickly.

This could have been so much easier, Lily.

Neville, please! Please!

You can take his titles and estates, but don't take him.

- It's done. I'm thinking of your welfare. - Don't! Don't!

He's fading fast.

Move idiot, you're irrelevant.

The peace and quiet of an institution is what he needs.

- I shall be the judge of that. - Oh yes, of course.

I wouldn't dream of interfering, not at all.

Lord Henry Cyril Paget.

What?

Now!

Follow me, quickly!

- She's only a maid! - Come on! Move!

Stop her!

Move! Get out of the chair!

Here he is!

- Who the hell are you? - Mr Taylor, sir.

Mr Taylor...

- Henry Paget! - Quickly!

You!

Stop him. Stop him!

We're getting you out of here, Toppy.

My Lord, we must leave!

Tell me where he is!

One of you must know!

What are you looking at, you inbred idiots! Do something!

You two, go find him! You, follow me!

- Wait! Stop! - No, Neville!

Let us pass, please!

Help us!

Balls to it.

Be good for Mama Bird.

Tweet, tweet.

Our Dancing Marquess. What larks, eh?

- What larks! - Thank you, sir.

- Please remember me. - Always, always.

I kept it safe.

From you.

I tried to follow her advice.

Blanche should be so proud.

Thank you for always loving me.

Go fly now.

Fly.

Quickly, come here, sir, let me do that up.

Come with me, Gelert.

I'm too old, my Lord.

- I'll wait here. - Thank you for your service.

This has been fabulous.

Oh...

Mad...

but fabulous.

Madfabulous, my Lord.

Madfabulous.

Bravo!

Toppy!

♪ I feel love, I feel love I feel love, I feel love

♪ I feel love...

♪ You and me, you and me You and me, you and me

♪ You and me

♪ I feel love, I feel love I feel love, I feel love

♪ I feel love

♪ I feel love...