Original subtitles

In Brussels, Becky made a triumphant entrance into high society

on the winnings of her talented husband.

I believe your Rawdon is widely famed for his skills as a player.

Becky's charms worked all too well on the wrong man.

Bad and wicked woman!

False friend and false wife!

The world at war, the women left behind.

The battle so close.

Tonight, Becky decides that war isn't so bad,

so long as there's money to be made.

Yes, it's Vanity Fair.

A world where everyone is striving...

for what is not worth having.

If we don't get there soon,

it'll all be over without this regiment firing a shot.

Somehow I doubt that, George.

Lord, the poor fellow, sir.

Help will come to them. Eyes forward, lad.

We will fight together bravely, as we've been trained to do.

No harm shall come to us.

Oh, gosh, oh, gosh, oh, gosh!

Oh, dear. Oh, dear me!

Keep calm, don't panic! Oh, dear heavens!

Mr Joseph!

How is your poor, dear sister today?

He... says that the French have left

20,000 British dead upon the battlefield,

and she says the army are retreating in the utmost confusion!

- Rumours? - Yes.

The French are within ten miles of the city

and have orders to kill every man within the walls.

Did you find any horses?

- Non. - Try again!

Merde!

Yes, my sister, good question!

Even I, a peer of the realm,

cannot be expected to spirit horses out of thin air during a battle, madam.

Shame on a husband who cannot defend the virtue of his weak and feeble lady.

Weak and what...? Good God, madam, have you never looked in the mirror?

- Testing times, my Lord Bareacres. - Oh, indeed!

Oh, madam, if you should know of any horses hereabouts that have,

yet to be requisitioned...

None to be had for love nor money.

You do know there's a war on?

Here, my darlings.

Here I am.

Do you miss my Rawdon?

Madame!

Silence!

The boy will tell the lords, the lords will tell the ladies,

and you... my pretty ones...

will make my fortune today.

Sounds just like my grandmother shaking out her blankets.

Tiffin?

Your husband mustn't find you ill when he sends for you after the victory.

- I can't. - Try, Emmy.

Please try!

The soup is very good.

How can I eat?

Remember, you're not the only woman whose life is in God's hands today.

Begging your pardon, miss.

Lady Bareacres sends her compliments,

and desires to know the price of Captain Crawley's horses...

..What are hidden in the stables.

How odd...

that your mistress should think it could ever be in my custom

to transact business with a servant.

Send me her lady's maid, would she?

Whatever next - would her ladyship require me to saddle the horses myself?

Muck out their stables? I am insulted, sir!

Yes.

Quite.

Can you hear something? Halt!

Quiet, boy!

Take cover for the cavalry ride! Form square! Quick, spread out!

Protect the colours!

- We're too late. - Gad, they're upon us.

The French have broken through our lines!

Hold the line!

Standard-bearer, to me! To me!

I cannot sell my horses to such as will not love them.

I shall love any creature that will get me home to England.

Ah, but you won't get home, my lady.

The French are at the gates, and they'll get you first.

You, and the two great rubies you wore to the Duchess of Richmond's ball.

But fear not.

I imagine the gems will interest the savages much more

than the lady who wears them.

Sell to me, and not only shall you have my rubies,

but I shall so far extend my dignity

as to invite you to dine with your betters at Bareacres Hall.

If I had any betters in this world,

Bareacres Hall is the last place I should expect to find them.

Name your price, woman!

Beyond rubies.

Are you hurt?

There we go, darling. You all right?

The strumpet refuses to sell!

"March to Waterloo," He says.

I can't see any such place on this map.

Crawley!

Crawley!

Where in buggeration is Waterloo?

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness.

The guns!

- What? - The guns, listen! They are silent!

So they are.

For tonight, at least.

The men on that hill over there.

I see no hill.

Not in this murk.

Hundreds of them.

Thousands.

All God's creatures, just like you and me, George.

And yet, tonight, with all my soul,

I wish them as dead as the earth they sit upon.

What kind of world would it be if the wishes of dear old Dobbin of ours

fell always on deaf ears?

Ours shall be the glory, old friend. Depend upon it.

Mr. Joseph!

Sit.

No appetite?

What can ail you so?

A most tragical want of horses.

What do you need horses for?

You can't imagine Amelia would leave without her husband.

And clearly, you would not leave without your sister, so...

..here we shall remain...

to await a fate worse than death.

They say the enemy shall spare the women.

How unusual!

I do fear for you, Mr. Joseph.

Should the French find you looking quite so much the military man.

Your military greatcoat, monsieur, with the gold frogging.

Take it!

- Your velvet cap with the ostrich feath... - Take it!

Take what you like, but find me some damned horses!

I have heard a rumour, sir.

Beneath a confident rider, he is as quiet as a lamb and as fast as a hare.

- Can he stand my weight? - Oh, and strong as an ox!

So you and Amelia on Bullfinch, and your servant and Mrs O'Dowd on Foxcub.

Buy both animals?

The horses are inseparable, sir.

As are the ladies.

But when my Rawdon comes home.

If he comes home. Oh, Mr Sedley!

Mrs Crawley...

I beg you, how much for Bullfinch and Foxcub?

It'll break his heart.

Becky, for the love of God, how much?

God forgive you, Mr Sedley, for you are nothing better than a coward!

Don't listen to her, Emmy.

Fine sight I would be riding pillion behind that great dandy!

I have two horses. I have near bankrupted myself to get them.

I don't budge till I get the word from Mick!

And I'm not asking you, you mad Paddy witch!

Amelia, dear sister, for the last time, will you come with me?

Joseph, dearest brother...

..I cannot leave without my husband.

Then dear God preserve you.

How bad is it?

Oh, now, look.

Our first poor fellows are back. Come on.

- George, George... Please, God! - Don't wish for anything,

and remember, we are in God's hands.

God!

George!

Mrs Osborne.

- Ambushed. - George?

- He lives. - Oh, thanks be to God!

- The Major? - All spared.

Captain Dobbin said I was to be taken in here.

You've to pay the driver two Napoleons.

My mother will pay you back.

Right. Yes! Who can help him, come on.

Help him down.

Be careful!

Epaulettes, plumes, straight from the battlefield.

The blood still warm on some of this latest German stuff, madame.

No, I only want French ones.

Onwards, Isidor. Ever onwards!

You can get a new hat.

It was Captain Osborne who cut down the Frenchman who slashed me.

Slowly, slowly, slowly.

- Voila. Voila. - He was a hero.

And so is Dobbin.

Best officer in the army, is Captain Dobbin, ma'am.

So kind. And modest, and cool under fire.

- And so... we saw them off. - And so the war is over?

Lord, no, miss.

No.

They're only waiting for the ground to dry.

Come on, be brave. Come on.

That's it.

Well prepared.

Brave lads, all.

The French artillery are coming about.

Indeed they are. Tell the 44th and the 47th to expect cavalry.

Right.

Sergeant Major, fix bayonets.

Battalion will fix bayonets.

Battalion fix bayonets!

Prepare to receive cavalry!

Prepare to receive cavalry!

Steady! Their artillery is coming into range.

Hold the line, men!

Steady, boys!

Into your hands, O Lord.

Steady your nerves! Keep the line tight!

Steady! Hold your positions!

Keep the line tight. Hold force!

Hold Force!

Sir...

May they be cut down like a field of corn!

Sergeant Major, block up.

Steady!

Please, someone, help me!

Hold the line!

Captain Osborne! Right section. Prepare to give fire.

Prepare your fire!

Wait!

Hold your fire!

- Captain Osborne! - Open fire!

I said hold your fire, damn you!

Captain Osborne, hold your fire!

Captain Osborne, wait!

Right section! Open fire!

B company, front right, fire!

B company, front right, fire!

A company, centre, fire!

B company, centre, fire!

Centre, fire!

The French are retreating.

Not for long.

It's getting hard to see, sir.

Vive la France!

Vive la France!

Vive la France!

Vive la France!

Here they come. Steady, lads. Steady!

Now!

First rank... FIRE!

Second rank, fire!

Halt! Port arms!

Charge bayonets.

By the centre, ordinary march!

Well done, lads,

take them all the way to Paris!

Now is our time!

No!

It is a letter from Mrs Crawley.

I see Rawdon has sold out of the Guards as a colonel.

Well, the valiant creature does deserve a quieter life.

A pair of French epaulettes.

With the Cross of the Legion of Honour.

And the hilt of a sword.

And does Mrs Rebecca claim, as usual,

that the heroic Colonel Rawdon cut said objects from a Frenchman,

begging for his life?

Well, it... It could be true. Matilda.

It was entertaining at first, but I'm bored with the Battle of Waterloo.

We did win, after all.

Is Mrs Osborne quite well?

Is Mrs Osborne warm enough?

- Mr Osborne! - Drive on, damn you!

Hold, driver!

I will see you, sir.

You presume to command me, Captain Dobbin?

Or must I now salute... Major Dobbin?

Since better men than you have died, and you step into their shoes?

But the men are dead.

Yes, sir.

Nothing could have prepared us for the slaughter.

There were times when I thought...

I thought this might be the only battle in the sorry history of the world...

..When not a single man on either side was left alive.

Job was done.

We move on.

His widow is without means, sir.

And soon the poor lady will be a mother.

Will you punish the child for the sins of the parent,

or will you forgive the child, your grandchild, sir?

For the sake of George, who fought more bravely than even you could have hoped.

That boy died

without ever confessing he did me wrong.

Without... ever apologising to a father...

he wronged so wickedly.

Believe me, he deeply regretted the loss of your affection.

She may have seven children and starve, for all I care.

She is dead to me.

Oh, don't cry, little man.

How am I supposed to know what's the matter with him?

Oh, it's a long journey, perhaps he's tired.

Or hungry. Are you hungry, little man?

Well, he'll have to learn to wait, like the rest of us.

Oh, is that nice? Did you like that? Did you?

Yes, you did.

I don't know why you bother when there'll be servants at the hotel.

He likes it better from me, don't you, young man?

Who's a nice soldier? Who's my little soldier?

Who's my little soldier?

Right, it's been long enough.

- We must go back to London. - Why?

Because... he is the image of you.

And the money's all gone.

I brought him something.

Oh, so sweet, William.

What would we do without you? Just pop them over there quietly.

It's wonderful to see the change in you, Amelia.

He is so beautiful. So like my George, isn't he?

Perfect.

I am come to say goodbye.

Why, where are you going?

The... the regiment is under orders for India.

I shall be gone a very long time.

I'll write to you.

All about Georgie.

All his adventures, and all his scrapes.

Dear William, how good you've been to us both.

Come closer.

Look at him.

Isn't he an angel?

He is shaking your hand goodbye.

God bless you both.

Present arms.

Mrs Crawley.

I thought you were the doctor.

I wish the doctor would come. I did not know what to do.

She will not let me near her.

Oh, dear Miss Crawley.

Remember how well I nursed you once?

Please, heaven, this time.

I shall nurse you again, if you'll permit me.

I'm so sorry.

Everything's gone wrong since we parted.

I regret it so much.

I love Rawdon and he loves me.

But I never wanted to be a mother.

I never had one of my own, I don't know how to be one now.

And to be excluded from the light of your love has caused us so much hurt.

Oh, Miss Crawley, please forgive us!

We could move in.

- What, here? - Why not?

Because it's not ours.

Because, the whole family will stand up and drive us out.

Why can't you see that?

Well, where do you suggest we all live?

For our invalid.

Oh, Mr Raggles, such terrible news!

It's not a palace, Mrs Crawley.

Not even a mansion such as you and the Colonel are used to.

It's quite charming, Mr Raggles.

Oh, some might say it's a big step

for such as me and Mrs Raggles to set ourselves up as landlords.

Why shouldn't honest working people see the fruits of their labours?

As soon your aunt's will is read.

The poor old girl is not yet cold in her grave.

And who's to say if she will favour us at last?

I, Matilda Crawley, do by this, my last will and testament,

further give and bequeath to my companion of many years,

Miss Arabella Briggs, my second-best tea service

and the sum of 600 pounds.

Oh, no, not deserved.

No, no!

To my younger nephew, Rawdon Crawley,

My prize collection of souvenirs from the Battle of Waterloo,

and a single payment of...

..Yes...

one hundred pounds...

in full valuation of my esteem for the choices he's made in his life.

Oh, dear!

Oh, my poor dear Rawdon!

You jumped the wrong way there, Becky, my girl.

The residual part of my estate, the house and some 70,000 pounds,

I leave to my nephew, Bute, and his heirs in perpetuity.

They poisoned her against us, the villains!

The smug, poisonous, black-hearted devils!

All the rage in the world won't get us your aunt's money now.

Rawdon, listen to me. Listen!

We must stay friends with your brother.

There's no point making enemies where the money is,

and if things go really badly, well,

I'll be his governess and you can be his butler.

No? All right, stable boy.

Dearest husband, show me a smile.

You know I'm right.

And why shouldn't I live in Mayfair?

Because I cannot afford the rent.

Listen to me.

This shall be our gaming room.

Here, you will play all-comers in all games.

Faro, piquet, ecarte.

It'll be like a club. In a private house.

Warm, comfortable, respectable.

You will win, except when I judge it helpful for you to lose,

and I will grow in charm with each profitable day.

What could possibly go wrong?

Mrs Rawdon Crawley...

This might be...

your best plan yet.

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Look, Georgie, happy Christmas.

I wish you could see how delighted he is with the gifts you send.

Oh, William. I wish you could see him growing up.

Rules over us.

Rules over us all. As did his father.

Every night, we pray together, to ask our dear Lord

to bless my husband, as if...

as if he had not left us.

And we always add a little prayer for you.

For our only friend, on the other side of the world, in India.

Major Dobbin, won't you join us for a cup of tea?

I... I'm afraid... Um... Excuse me.

Dear Jane, I hope this letter finds you well,

and the worst of your grief is past.

I think of your dear brother every day and mourn his loss.

I think also of his child, and the poor widow he left behind.

I wish with all my heart they had a friend closer than 5,000 miles.

I still long to believe, for Georgie's sake,

your father's heart may one day melt.

In God's name, Miss Osborne, what is the matter with you tonight?

I've seen him, sir.

I've seen little George, and, sir, he's as beautiful as an angel,

and he's the living image of...

Who are you? What do you want?

Georgie! Where are your manners?

- I am alone here. - Just a little ride together.

Just half an hour.

My parents are from home, Jane.

It's the child's grandfather.

Amelia! Please...

Wait there.

Ready?

Go to Auntie Jane.

So, young George.

Yes, sir?

Do you know who I am?

No, sir.

I'm your grandfather.

No, you're not!

Marry again?

He's very generous, if you listen, he says even if you marry again,

the allowance he makes you will continue.

Take money to part from my child?

It doesn't say that.

"It must be understood that the child will live

"entirely with his grandfather at the Osborne residence,

"and will be occasionally permitted to see Mrs George Osborne."

It is an insult!

Amelia, it doesn't do to be selfish.

You call a mother selfish who will not give up her child?

Mr Osborne says here in black and white that he will make Georgie his heir,

that he will inherit everything his father lost...

When he made the dreadful mistake of marrying me

Every child must leave his mother's petticoats someday.

I lost my husband.

I will not lose my son!

The answer is still no!

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Oh, no, you don't, there'll be hell to pay if you disturb your mamma's singing!

Ah, please take Rawdy up to bed.

I don't want to!

Why can't I stay down here with you and Mamma?

Hush, hush.

You mustn't bother Mamma... not when she has guests.

- There's a brave boy. - I wish Mamma would sing for me!

Stay with him till he sleeps.

Come on. Let's go back to bed. I will sing you something.

My Lord Steyne.

And how is Mrs Crawley's husband?

Still busy keeping the wolf from the door?

Milord.

Comme je suis enchante.