All language subtitles for Crimson Petal And The White s01e01_English

[Pen scratching]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

London,

1874.

Keep your wits about you.

This city is vast
and intricate,

and you do not know
your way around.

♪♪

♪♪

[Shouting]

♪♪

Woman: Aah!

Aaaah!

Aah! Aah!

You imagine,

from other stories
you've read,

that you know it well.

But those stories
flattered you.

You are an alien

from another time
and place altogether.

You don't even know
what hour it is,

do you?

Nor do most,
where you're going.

♪♪

Here,
people go to sleep

as soon as the gin
takes effect.

You've allowed yourself

to be led astray,

and there's no hope

of finding
your way back.

[Horse neighs]

[Men shouting]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Squealing]

[Women laughing]

[Urinating]

Elizabeth?

I brought candles.

I won't need 'em.
I'm not a pretty sight.

You look all right.

Christ, Sugar,

don't you never blush?

What happened?

Two of 'em.

Wouldn't walk all the way
back here.

"How about a quick
soot-arse in the alley?"

Never stopped laughing.

I'm going to
hunt them down

and kill them.'Course you are.

Like all the ones
who ever done youmischief.

[Crying] Tomorrow,
I'll be cold meat.

They'll toss me
in the river.

They won't.
I won't let them.

Eels will eat out
my eyes.

No one'll know
I ever lived.

I'll know.

[Panting]

Leek: You again.
Who have you come to rescue now?

I brought Elizabeth
some calf's-foot jelly.

Too late.

She's dead.

[Leek laughing]

[Shuddering]

[Panting]

[Rings doorbell]

[Gasping]

WOMAN: Aah!

[Gasp]
-She's okay.

Oh! Oh!

Oh!

AGNES: Fly. Fly now.

Please help me.

I'll help you.
[Crying] Fly. Fly now.

Fly! Fly.

Fly!

My -- It's from my hat.
She struck at me with --

Curlew.
-Dr. Curlew's been sent for.

Oh. My dear Mrs. Fox,
please, this way.

It is we
who must apologize.

The party ended
prematurely.

I'm afraid
my sister-in-law

brought it to a halt
with a most unfortunate turn.

Oh, poor Agnes.

I think it best for me
to...see you home.

I'm sorry, William.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

No need for that.

Am I still
your little girl?

Yes.
Of course you are.

[Crying]

[Whispering] Always.

[Creature shrieks
outdoors]

[Dog barks outdoors]

Don't touch me.

No.

No, of course not.

[Dog barks]

[Creature shrieks]

[Crying] You know very well
Agnes is delicate.

Our current
financial woes

place an intolerable strain
on her nerves.

It's hardly surprising that
little incidents like this --

"Little incidents"?!

She knocked a woman's hat
clean off her head

with a poker!

She could've had
her eye out!

She felt trapped,

sh-she said.

Next thing,
she caught sight of

the stuffed bird
on Lady Bridgelow's bonnet

and believed it was
about to take wing.

She sought only to free it
from its yards of net.

Can you hear yourself?

An erroneous impulse,
certainly,

but a generous one,
at least,

and, given our current
financial circumstances --

If you want your
circumstances to change,

you know
what you have to do --

turn your mind
to the business.

I gave you this year's
accounts a month ago.

Have you looked at them?
No!

I have tried.

Ido not have a flair
for business.

I am not like you.

I'm a writer!

What have you written?

A small pamphlet.

Not yet published.

[Whispering] Dear God.

Father, if you were only
to sell Rackham's

and invest the proceeds,

we could all live quite
comfortably off the interest.

Your allowance was
somewhat reduced.

You may now consider it
altogether withdrawn.

You go ahead.
You be your own man --

at your own expense!

But, sir --

Write your way out of that![Door slams]

Sir?

S-Sir?

[Footsteps depart,
door opens in distance ]

Why, pray,
was the vintner unable

to make this delivery
in person?

How did it come to pass
that I had to ask you

to collect the claret,
Christopher?

He says, "Tell Mrs. Castaway
it's 'cause of Christmas."

Oh, Christmas.

What is Christmas?

It's the day
Jesus was born.

Who's Jesus?

He died for our sins.

Evidently, unsuccessfully,
since we're all still paying.

One squirt of slime
from the man,

one fishy egg in the woman,
and, behold,

"They shall call his name
Emmanuel."

[Door opens, closes]

Got some bear's grease
for you.

Thank you, Christopher.

Mrs. Castaway:
All alone, is it?

[Soft music playing]No gent in tow?

Elizabeth is dead.

Gone to a better place.

Ha! Always said
she would, didn't she?

Ha!

[Music continues]

Who's next?
You? Me?

Be sure and carry a knife
in your bodice from now on.

I'd never have the wit
to use it.

Watch your dress.
[Laughs]

Don't want to spoil it.

A lot of trouble
you go to,

for clothes that only
stay on five minutes.

Excuse me, ladies.

I would be honored to preserve
your image for all time.

For all time?No, thank you.

Go on, Shush.
Why not?

I'd rather notspend
an indefinite future

being passed from hand
to hand by strangers.

Wouldn't have minded
being remembered

for eternity,
that's all.

Elizabeth asked me
to put her in my book.

Thinking the same,
I suppose.

I used to love it when you
read your book to us.

But I wondered

whether you ever thought
of putting

a bit of good fortune in,

like a miraculous rescue.

No.

It's a book of hate,
Caddie,

to wreak revenge
on every pompous,

trembling worm who taps
at Mrs. Castaway's door.

[Laughs]

Bill!

Oh!
Bodley, Ashwell.

Oh, what hashappened
to your hair?

Ah, it's -- It was supposed to
look like Matthew Arnold.

I'm actually pleased
it doesn't.

I think his latest work
to be overrated.

[Laughing] Come on, old chap,
let's get you a drink.

So, we're, uh,
we're quiteworn out

by the research
for this book.

And -- And do you have
a title yet?

"The Efficacy of Prayer."

[Cackles]

It's ironic.

Yes.

Is there any hope of finding
a publisher for such a piece?

There's a thundering call,
these days,

for books that destroy
the fabric of society.

Speaking of which,

how goes the great work?

At its own pace.

Mmm. Well, um, don't let
the book consume you entirely.

You're a virtual recluse,
these days,

and such
opportunities lost.

Opportunities?

Lucy Fitzroy.

Only 14.
Oh!

Wields a vicious whip
at Madame Georgina's.

An absolute fizgig.

But the one we're just dying
to have a crack at is Sugar.

Sugar?

Over at Mrs. Castaway's,

a very high-class house.

Of course,
one can never get her.

I'm beginning to wonder
if she even exists.

The most intriguing
reputation.

They say she
neverdisappoints.

[Sniffs] That'd put ink
in your nib, man.

[Chuckles]

[Rings doorbell]

[Ringing]

It should never be necessary
to ring a doorbell

more than once,

especially if it --
it is one's own,

Letty.

How is Mrs.Rackham?

Well, sir, I believe.
Dr. Curlew is with her.

Mr. Rackham?

We're short on coal.

The delivery never arrived.

I've changed supplier.

Our fellow was becoming
quite erratic.

♪♪

♪♪

[Sighs]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Mr. Rackham.

Curlew.

Please.

Well, she's
tolerably lucid,

but I expect a full
collapse very shortly.

Really?

I had been thinking
she seemed rather better.

Then you're deluded.

Rackham, every time
I visit her,

she has to fight
that much more strenuously

to compose herself.

She finds your visits

very stressful.

Perhaps --

I do understand
that having Agnes

temporarily committed...Committed?!

...will cause you personal pain
and social embarrassment,

but I have seen other men
wrestle with the same decision,

and, believe me,
once they have made it,

they are relieved
beyond words.

[Sighs]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

BODLEY: The most
intriguing reputation.

They say she
never disappoints.

Sugar: The jewel
in Castaway's crown.

WILLIAM: Sugar.

Pay for cotton
but lie in silk.

♪♪

Beg, borrow, or steal

to buy my services.

♪♪

Seek me out

at the Fireside Inn.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Blowing]

♪♪

How do I look, Clara?

Beautiful.

The doctor says I'm not
to read anymore.

He -- He says
it excites me.

Well, he doesn't know
everything.

No.

[Shudders]

[Exhales]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Indistinct conversations]

[Piano playing]

Woman: You've been
a very naughty boy!

[Whip cracks]

[Music continues]

So, you never told us what it is
you do, what line of business.

Business? There's a word
I've no time for.

[Laughs]
No, I am a writer --

novelist, critic.

What's your name?
I might've heard of you.

I very much doubt that.

You ladies don't,
if you'll excuse me,

look like readers.

[Scoffs] I know more
than you might expect.

I've had Charles Dickens.Ain't he dead?

Not the bit she sucked on.[Laughter]

Who's that?

Is that who
you're waiting for?

Him and half
the fools in here.

Eh, Sugar!

No.
Writer, he says.

Waiting for ya.

All his life,
I don't doubt.

[Laughter]

[Music continues]

Good evening,
Mister...?

Hunt, with an "H."

Uh, George Hunt.
And you are...?

"Sugar" is all there is
to myname, Mr. Hunt.

Sugar.

I do hope you haven't been
waiting too long

with the Three Witches
for company.

The Three Witches?
That's "Macbeth."

You must forgive
my appearance.

This foul weather
plays havoc with my hair.

Oh, mine, too.

I had it cut.

It was supposed to look
like Matthew Arnold.

It doesn't.
Be thankful.

I think he's
rather overrated.

But I'm sure you know

much better than I.

No, uh, I agree.
Absolutely.

Give me Ruskin any day.

If it is Mr. Ruskin's prose
you're referring to,

then I quite concur.

Spare me his poetry.

In verse,
he's a major minor.

Tennyson's latest work?

Pure whimsy.

It's whimsy. It's whi--
It's whimsical.

It's -- There is
a poet, James "Thaumson."

James "Tomson."

Yes, James "Thaumson,"
who, in his latest work,

is truly
breaking new ground.

"The City
of Dreadful Night."

You know it?

"The world rolls round
for ever like a mill.

It grinds out life and death
and good and ill.

It has no purpose,

heart,
nor mind, nor will."

These are dark notions

for a beautiful young woman
to take to heart.

My life canbe dark
sometimes.

But kindred spirits
like yourself

are difficult to find.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Banging on door]

Your lips are like feathers.

[Whispering] Shall they
help you take flight?

[Hinges creak]

[Cello plays]

Welcome to
Mrs. Castaway's, sir.

The use of the room
will cost you five shillings.

There can be good wine waiting
for an additional two,

but what happens up there,
and for how long,

is for you and Sugar
to put a value to.

Here's 10 shillings.

Send up some wine.

[Thunder rumbles]

[Rattling]

[Woman giggles]

[Man groans]

WILLIAM: Witchery.

[Man continues groaning]

You're tired,
Mr. Hunt.

I haven't been sleeping.

I go to bed at night,

and I just lie awake.

Well, we shall have to
take good care of you.

Strong ale
at the Fireside.

[Glass rattling]

[Gasps]

[Asphyxiating]

SUGAR: He woke from his
dreamless drunkard's sleep

and found her poised
to cut his throat.

Uh!

[Glass rattles]

[Gasps]

Good morning, Mr. Hunt.

Morning?

I've slept so long?

Well, you were very tired.

Yes, I was.
I believe it's --

[Gasps]

Miss Sugar, I have suffered
the most regrettable,

most shameful
lapse of control.

Throw off your wet things,
Mr. Hunt, at once.

That is quite beyond --

I-I can't expect you to --Your things, please, now.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

This really is --

Lie back now.

♪♪

All will soon be set
to rights.

Poor baby.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Speaks quietly]

♪♪

Oh! Oh!

Ah!

[Panting]

Oh. Oh.

Oh!

I have taken up

an unconscionable amount
of your time.

Not at all.

You are a very interesting
man, George Hunt.

I shall look out
for your books.

Uh, Miss Sugar --

No "Miss," just "Sugar."

My name is not, um --

Please,
just call me "William."

Forgive the deception.

A man has a reputation
to uphold.

And what's in a name?

Indeed. That's actually
a line from --

"Romeo and Juliet."

Also, you may struggle to find
my work in published form.

Writing is not
my sole occupation.

Of course.

Why would a man with your
unquenchable curiosity,

your Renaissance grasp
of the world and its wonders,

limit himself
to just one sphere?

Surely, you would bring
the same originality of mind

and fixity of purpose

to anything
you were about.

All turns to art
in the artist's hand.

[Wind blows]

Mrs. Fox,

I must apologize again
for our last encounter.

You found my brother and I
at our absolute worst.

Oh, I doubt that.

And Iperhaps owe you
an apology.

I was much preoccupied
that night.

Ah. I put your reserve
down to good manners.

No. I had, that afternoon,
visited a bawdy-house

to see a girl plainly
not long for this world.

Good L--

It's not uncommon.
There's a trade in sick girls.

I once complained
to a madam

that one of her employees
could barely stand.

She told me standing
was not mandatory,

that I looked
a bit peaky myself,

and would I like to lie down
in the spare room?

A most sly and licentious
suggestion.

Do I look ill to you?

Not at all.

♪♪

[Doorbell rings]

Better, Letty.

Much better!

Though you might tidy
yourself up a little.

[Scoffs]

Fixity...of...purpose.

♪♪

I am going to get well,
even if it kills me.

♪♪

♪♪

Agnes, dearest.

They've really pushed
the boat out.

I hope you have
an appetite.

♪♪

What a happy coincidence it is
that you've come down today.

Coincidence?

I am ushering in
a new regime,

including a review
of the staff.

The household is
out of hand.

And it's not just today.

The rain makes the servants
skittish, of course.

I've observed this
so often,

I mean to write a short piece
for Punchon the topic.

The fact is,

servants look to their
mistress for guidance,

and a return
to overseeing them

might be good
for you, dear.

Can't -- Can't they just
sort it out among themselves?

I mean, isn't that what
you always used to talk about,

socialism?

There is a difference
between socialism

and the staff
running amok.

I wonder if Henry
will come after church.

I like him.
Don't you?

Henry, lately, seems
to spend his Sundays

in the company
of Mrs. Fox.

Dr. Curlew's sister, the widow?
You don't mean --

No!

God, no.

And Mrs. Fox is
far too preoccupied

with her beloved
Rescue Society.

Mrs. Fox rescues people?

Prostitutes, dear.

A pointless crusade,
if you ask me.

[Knife clatters]

It doesn't seem to have
occurred to her

that many of these girls
enjoy their work.

[Shuddering]

Are you quite
all right, Agnes?

Would you like...?

[Sputtering]

[Sobbing]

Clara!

Letty! Janey!

Mrs. Rackham?

Mrs. Rackham.

Clara, send for Dr. Curlew.
at once.

[Sobbing] No, no.

No, Mr. Rackham.

Do as I ask!

[Door slams]

♪♪

"All turns to art
in an artist's hands."

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

All very sudden,
this change of heart.

A revelation of Damascene
proportions, sir.

I am a new man.

And I'm expected
to jig for joy

and slap a fat check
on the desk, is that it?

No. I wish to prove
myself, Father.

If I may?

I have brought my...

"unquenchable curiosity" to bear
on the Rackham accounts.

[Woman shouting]

Aah! Aah! Aah! Aah!

Why, William,

what a pleasure to see you
again, and so soon.

I brought you something.Really?

Something I forgot
to give you last time.

You spoil me.

♪♪

Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

Oh!

Ah! Ahh! Ah! Ah!

Ah! Oh, Mr. Hunt!
Ahhh!

Oh, Mr. Hunt!
Ahh!

Oh, Mr. Hunt! Oh!

Oh, Mr. Hunt!

Oh, Mr. Hunt!

Oh, Mr. Hunt!

No! My name is William
[panting]

Rackham!

Ohh! Ah!

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

I never thought
I'd see the day.

[Indistinct conversation,
laughter]

Christopher: You're too late.
Sugar don't wait for no one.

WOMAN: Get off me!

Agh! Ah!

[Piano plays]

[Laughter,
indistinct conversations]

WOMAN: Oh, excellent.

[Laughs]

[Cellist plucking strings]Will you consider it?

Exclusive patronage
of Sugar by me.

No.

What?

These matters
are complex.

We have
a small house here.

If a third
of what we offer

is unavailable,
where does that leave us?

[Man moaning]

Then there are
other complications.

Such as?
Our bond of --

of mutual regard
with the Fireside.

Surely you,
who are so appreciative

of Sugar's merits,

can see
she is a draw there.

These are details.

It's the principle of the matter
that I'm concerned with.

The principle?

Whether Sugar herself
would agree.

Might she come down?

It is herfuture
at stake, after all.

There is another thing
you haven't allowed for.

You don't consider
the possibility

that Sugar might prefer --
forgive me --

she might prefer variety.

Well, we shall let
herdecide.

Why, Mr. Hunt,
what a pleasure.

Mrs. Castaway:
Mr. Hunt

has a proposition
for you, Sugar.

So I understand.

If I may,

what none of us
understands is,

outside of
your arrangement

with the house itself,

what will you
pay Sugar?

I will pay her
whatever makes her happy.

Well, Mr. Hunt,

I am willing.

[Sighs]
What time is it?

[Bells tolling]

Oh.

You don't need
to take in

copy work anymore,

or whatever it is you do
to get yourself in such a mess.

You know,

Rackham's does manufacture
a product for dry skin.

But I'm a slave
to Atkinson's Bear's Grease.

Oh!

[Both laugh]

Your life is going to be
very different from now on.

I hope some things
remain the same.

Ooh! Ooh!

[Chuckling]

[Moans, smooches]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Doorbell rings]

[Ring]

♪♪

Your men work
on the Sabbath?

As do I! Not enough hours
in the day, Henry.

Did you know that there's
an octave in perfume,

as there is in music?

Anyway...
how can I help?

Do you ever think
of mother?

No.

You were very young

when she, um...

passed on.

Henry, she ran off
with another man.

She abandoned us.

I am conscious, sometimes,
that we lacked,

growing up, any, um...

female society.

You know, of course,

of Mrs. Fox's efforts
in the, um,

in the darkest recesses
of the city?

Well, I thought that
her practical support

might be well supplemented
by my more doctrinal approach.

My problem, though,
is this --

if I am to minister
to, um...

...fallen women...

...how shall I
recognize them?

[Laughs]

Your hands any better?

This bear's grease
is miraculous.

How's your book?

You know, I taught
myself to read.

I could teach you.

Don't need it.

[Indistinct conversation]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Mind your back!

Woman: My hand is yours

for a shilling, sir,

and any other part
for two.

Please,
cover yourself up.

Your body parts
are not yours to sell.

They belong together,
and the whole belongs to God.

My hole belongs to anyone
that's got two shillings, sir.

Listen to me -- I want you
to see these two shillings

as an act that's
no longer necessary.

It's in lieu,
which is to say,

whatever you were
about to do,

please, I beg you,
don't.

Sugar: "Please," he begged,
tugging at the silken bonds,

"Let me go.
I am an important man."

"So tell me, exalted sir,

where is it your pleasure
to have this blade enter you?"

[Muffled screams]

[Doorbell rings]

Sir.

You're late.

Hard at work,
Mr. Rackham?

I brought you
something.

A couple of my friends
produced it.

It's called
"The Efficacy of Prayer."

Bodley and Ashwell.

[Snickers]

Well, how perfectly
childish.

Have they nothing
better to do?

No, nothing.

Whereas you...

Exactly.
How is the business?

Splendid.

And your rivals?
Ah.

Is the competition stiff?

[Laughs]

Well, Pears and Yardley
are unassailable.

Rowland and Rimmel
are in good health.

Nisbett is ailing,

perhaps fatally.

I-I'm sorry.
Is this terribly dull,

all this talk
of business?

Dull?

Who understands
better than I

the connection between
commerce and art?

On which subject,
I've been thinking

about this
Rackham's catalog.

"Lavender foot balm.

Are malodorous feet
your Achilles' heel?"

[Both laugh]

I know, I know.
It was written years ago.

Father's work.
Hardly elegant.

So why not rewrite it?

It's early days.

I'm not sure
Father's ready.

It's time for you
to lead, not follow.

Let's make the business
worthy of the Rackham name.

WilliamRackham,
that is.

What would I do
without you?

Ah!

Mmm!

Oh!

[Laughs]

Ahhh! Ah.

Ahh! Ah!

[Both moaning]

Ah! Oh!

Ohhh!

[Both moaning]

Clara: [Singsong voice]
Mrs. Rackham!

Oh! You're awake.

Yes. I mean to take breakfast
downstairs this morning, Clara.

Have you remembered
that Mr. Rackham is away?

He has gone to Dundee.

So you'll take
breakfast alone?

I think I shall find it
easier that way.

[Crying] I feel so light
this morning, Clara.

I can't tell you
what a relief it is.

After breakfast,

I shall work
on my dresses.

The Season is almost
upon us, after all.

Would you bring them
for me?

Clara, with, um --

with the Season so close,
there are certain, uh,

skills I will need
to remaster, such as, um,

well, going outside and, um,
walking unsupported.

I was -- I was thinking
we might try, later.

If you feel up to it.

Perhaps after
Dr. Curlew's been round.

But, surely,

surely, he isn't
coming today?

No, um --

Um, I won't see him, Clara.
I simply won't.

Chepstow Villas.

I'm sorry you've come
all this way

because, unfortunately
for you, I am quite well.

You're looking
very pale to me.

That may be the face
powder, mayn't it?

Have I not cautioned you
against the use of cosmetics?

And did you not tell me
that you had disp--

Disposed of them.
Yes, so I did.

So it cannot be that.
[Chuckle]

But I am too tired
to be examined.

Your tiredness may, in itself,
be a symptom of illness.

You examine me
every week.

What harm can it do to leave it
undone, just this once?

Only a madwoman would willingly
let her health decline.

I am not a madwoman!

Which is why
I ask permission,

rather than obliging you,
as I would an asylum inmate.

Clara.

Should I stay?

[Whispering] No.

The pain lies entirely
in the resistance.

Little more.

Lit-tle more.

♪♪

Good!

Thank you.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[Door opens]

♪♪

♪♪

The dresses will be hard
to mend, don't you think?

I don't think
we can mend them.

[Shuddering]

I dream, you know,
Clara.

Dream?

Of a place.
Not a --

Not a place with
a physical dimension

but one that does exist...

full of nuns...

so gentle, they --
they might be angels.

I wish they'd send
for me.

♪♪

♪♪

[Muttering]

♪♪

My God.

William Rackham.

You'll keep me better
than you do now.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Wait. Wait, wait.
[Sobbing]

♪♪

[Gasping]

Oh, my angel...

come at last.

[Crying]

[Birds chirping]