All language subtitles for Emily.of.New.Moon.S03E08.1080p.WEBRIP-Hallmark

Emily:
Thirteen pages!
Practically an epic novel.

It begins with
a perfect couple.

By page two,

they're dead
in each other's arms.

Ooh!

A gruesome death
that makes your skin crawl?

(Sighs)
As I was saying,

at the funeral,

old lovers
show up to mourn

countless children born

on the wrong side
of the blanket.

Ooh! Gossip!
A genuine potboiler.

Only hacks
write gossip.

Real writers
write literature.

Wait for me!

Emily:
The point of the story is,

nobody knows what goes on
between the couple

behind closed doors.

Ilse:
Except for the fly
on the wall.

Now, if I were a mucky muck
publisher in New York,

I'd pay gobs of money
for a fly to tell all.

Mr. Stuart:
Miss Murray,
have a look at this.

Emily:
What's cousin Isabel
doing here?

The green would
set off your eyes.

And I have dress patterns
from Paris.

Oh! They're shameless
in Paris

the way they show
their ankles.

Besides, where would
I wear velvet?

Oh, to the next
prayer meeting.

In fact, that's what
I was dreaming about...

When I saw the velvet.

You and I walking in
to church together.

Violet eldritch:
Hunh! Philip Stuart!

Velma's side of the bed's
still warm,

and you're stepping out
with Isabel Murray!

Mr. Stuart:
Can't you understand
how lonely I've been?

Violet eldritch:
Same as me!

Ain't it grand?

Now we have each other.

You're my sister-in-law.

Once the wife
is out of the picture,

the Bible says
I'm next in line.

It's my Christian duty.

I can look after rhoda.

And I'm ripe and ready

to bear
a whole new brood.

You deserve better than
a two-timin' hussy like velma,

or a dried-up old prune
like Isabel Murray.

Violet, I, I, I...

I appreciate everything,
the way you came to...

Look after rhoda,
but...

Isabel Murray is no prune.

She's a plum.

Rhoda:
And what are you doing here?

Emily:
(Clears her throat)

Posting a letter
to New York.

Rhoda:
And who would you know
in New York?

Wouldn't you
like to know?

Emily:
For a writer,
it's always a bit demoralizing

that truth can be so much more
interesting than fiction,

and good gossip is
the most fascinating of all.

Hamlet may have asked,
"to be or not to be."

For me, the question was,
to tell or not to tell.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Cousin Isabel,

when you think
of a metaphor

for the word woman,

do you think of a flower
or a plum?

I think
of a work horse.

Interesting choice.

Personally,
I like flower.

Mr. Stuart prefers plum.

Mr. Stuart?

After Mrs. Eldritch called you
a dried up old prune.

She did not!
She did?

Out of pure spite
and jealousy,

after it became obvious

that Mr. Stuart likes you
better than he likes her.

Och, Mr. Stuart
and I are friends.

Did he say he likes me?

I happened to overhear.

Young lady, you know what
I've told you

about eavesdropping.

It was an accident.

Sometimes you hear
the juiciest bits of information

by mistake.

Once it's in your mind,
it's impossible to forget.

Forget what?

Pinky swear
you won't tell?

Who am I gonna tell?

Emily:

Swear on the lives
of your unborn children

you won't divulge a word
to a living soul?

Oh, it's a scandal,
Jimmy.

But I'm just...

Just sayin' I gotta take it
to my grave,

even if it kills me
not to tell ya.

Tell me what?

I'm not going to gossip,
Jimmy, but...

Isabel told me
the strangest thing

about that eldritch woman.

Violet.

It appears
she's no shrinking Violet.

Mother heard it
from a chambermaid.

A secret wedding?

But Mr. Stuart's
still married!

Philip Stuart,
a bigamist.

Ilse:
I swear I only told my father.

Only!

He practically knows everyone
in Blair water!

Doctors don't give a fig
for gossip.

Besides, he already heard
the whole story

before I got a chance
to open my big fat mouth.

Jenny:
I hear your aunt Violet
had some fun in her oven.

Commiserations
are in order.

It's "bun" in her oven,
you dolt!

And even if it were true,
it's a lie.

If the truth hurts,
wear it.

(Frustrated groan)
Oh, I hate you!

Perry:
Hey! Hey!

Rhoda:
Listen to me, Jenny!

Perry:

Hey, no, no.
Easy, easy...

Rhoda!

The vicious gossip

that's being spread
about my family -

who would start
such a thing?

Ah, well,
people love to talk.

As if I haven't suffered
enough humiliation.

You can't believe

what they're saying
about my mother.

Perry:
Oh heck, rhoda,

if it was half as bad
as what they said about mine,

your ears would smoke.

It's funny,
we're so different

but we have so much
in common.

Yeah, I suppose
you might say that.

I'm saying it.

Well, then it's...
Been said.

Nothing more to say?

Well,
I ain't saying that.

What are you saying?

Well, rhoda, truth is,

I'm not used to saying
much of anything

to girls.

Except Emily.
But she don't count.

Let's speak again.

Yeah.
Whenever you want.

Perry Miller,
don't you know anything?

The girl never sets a time
for the rendezvous.

Perry:
Rhoda!

Thursday,

I'll call for you
at the general store.

Girls:
(Giggling)

Isabel:
Now... (Tapping pointer)

Today we will study words
that sound the same,

but are spelled differently.

Here's an example.

The boy took the long way home.

Yes, Jenny?

Can I be excused?

Isabel:
May I please be excused.

Jenny:
I asked first.

(Annoyed chuckle)
Mm-hmm.

Right, the boy took
the long "way" home.

A pound of feathers "weighs"
the same as a...

Jenny:
Pound of flesh.

Antonio's debt to shylock
in "the merchant of venice"

by...

Francis carpenter.

Back in Blair water.

Why am I not surprised?

Emily:
Mr. Carpenter, I missed you.

Perry:
Well, I'll be damned!

You're back.

You're really back.

Isabel Murray,
I do not believe my eyes.

Is that really you
at the front of my class?

Your class, is it?

Still reeking from
your last bacchanal no doubt

and you presume to come in here
and talk about your class.

Please, Mr. Carpenter,
come back and be our teacher.

I'll do anything.

Ilse:
I'd even do a book report.

Ah, but would you
read the book?

For you,
I'd read it twice.

Emily:
You're the best teacher
I ever had.

Thank you, Emily.

Isabel:
Mr. Carpenter, excuse me,

the children have lessons
to learn.

Mr. Carpenter:
As do we all, my dear.

A word with ye outside,
if you please.

Go on, children,
back to your desks.

Go on. Hurry up.

Go on. Do as I say.
Come along.

Students:
Yes, miss Murray.

Isabel,
you are radiant.

And you're a teacher too!

I'm not interested
in your false flattery.

Do you have any idea
how hard it was

to get control
of that class?

Mr. Carpenter:
You're a poem.

To knock the poetical nonsense
out of the children's heads.

You simply arrive

and there's a lesson
in grace and beauty.

What are ye on about?

Well, your eyes
for one thing -

how they Blaze
with anger.

Oh, is that your purpose

in coming back
to Blair water?

To make me angry?

Not at all.

I came to visit the people
and places

that make me happy.

Right!

And I suppose I considered
pleading for my old job.

Ah, ha, ha,
the truth.

Until I laid eyes
on you.

I don't want to hear
all this malarkey.

Isabel, have you ever heard
of the subconscious mind?

The deepest, darkest part
of the human soul

where there are neither
illusions, nor secrets,

only a sea
of naked emotions.

Now who do you think
you're talking to?

One of your empty
headed students?

I mean what are you goin' on
about this tommyrot,

filling their head with ideas
that don't make sense.

There's a vienese doctor
by the name of Sigmund Freud,

whose theories
you should read.

Sigmund...

I don't care about
doctor who-knows-who

in Vienna!

Are you drunk
or what?

No, I haven't
touched a drop in months.

In fact,
Dr. Freud's belief

in the power of
the subconscious

has helped me immensely
in that regard.

And,

he is dead set against
the societal repression

that shackles
women like you,

into prisons
of your own making.

Oh, really.

Isabel,
will you allow me

to release you
from your prison?

And how do you propose
to do that?

Hmph!

Oh!

(Gasps) Terribly sorry.
Did that hurt?

(Laughing)

Och!

Oh, dear!

Emily:
She's not as deadly dull
as she used to be,

and she is devoted.

Mr. Carpenter:
(Laughing)

She's hardly dull at all.

Emily:
Mr. Stuart is positively
obsessed with her.

Oh, the drama
in my absence.

Where did you go?

You just disappeared.
What happened?

Well, they say that hell
is a bottomless pit.

And after I hit
rock bottom,

I proceeded to fall
even further.

If only you had
told me,

maybe I could have
helped.

If only you had written.

All I did was write.
Just not letters.

A novel?
Can I read it?

Well, it's not
finished yet.

But when it is.

Mine is.

I laboured over
every word.

I thought of you
the whole time -

what you would say?

"Too flowery.
Too melodramatic."

(Laughing)

You were my conscience.

You inspired me
to write every day.

(Laughing)

Emily starr,
you are an inspiration.

Wait until you see
the first page -

the dedication.

I'd let you read it
but I sent it off

to a real publisher
in New York.

I am in awe.

I haven't heard back.

Minor detail compared
to the courage it takes

just to send it off.

I'm keeping
my fingers crossed.

Well, uncross them
and close your eyes.

All right.

(Gasps)
A typewriter!

I've only seen them
in the catalog.

A gift for a dear friend

and a most gifted writer.

You're giving this
to me?

This is such
a responsibility.

What shall I write?

Lately,
my greatest stories

have been fit
for a pot boiler,

but hardly
great literature.

The greatest
responsibility of all

is the giving of advice.

And what teacher hasn't
offered up this old Chestnut

to an aspiring
young writer?

Write what you know.

Write what you know.

Ilse:
People will die to read
what we know.

Perry:
Ilse, what you know
is just kicking the cat.

Emily:
Precisely why we named it that.

Gentle readers,

this is my solemn pledge to you
on this our first offering.

I will never stoop as low
as to propagate rumours

or make up lies.

Ilse:
There goes all the fun.

I will only print
the truth.

Perry:
How you gonna do that,
Emily?

You can't be everywhere
every time something happens.

So, if you ain't got no facts,

all you're writing
is scuttlebutt.

Fact:

Mr. Carpenter's dramatic
reappearance -

is he a stinking drunk?

Will he ever teach again?

Emily:
Fact:

Mr. Stuart
and Violet eldritch.

How she threw herself at him,
shamelessly,

and how he's still devoted
to his true love.

Emily:
Who we shall name lady x,

which, strictly speaking,
is not a lie.

It's a pseudonym.

Readers will itch
with curiosity.

Now ain't that the very thing
that killed the cat?

Meow!

Girls:
(Laughing)

Emily:
Okay, ilse, and now the school.
Come on.

(Tapping)

(Tapping)

(Tapping)

Laura,

a guest found this
tacked to a tree

on the road
to Blair water.

Author unknown.

It's called
"kicking the cat."

Oh my! Can you believe
what's written here -

what they say about
a well known merchant?

Well, that must be
Mr. Stuart.

Mmm.

Does he really have
two women

falling all over themselves
for his affections?

Well, I'll wager one of them
is Violet eldritch.

And the other one?
Lady x,

her beauty as glorious
as the setting sun.

Oh! The man
is insatiable.

Casanova pales
by comparison.

Well, that's not true.
He's just confused.

Maybe he needs to see
the minister.

Oh, for affairs
of the heart,

he'd be better off
to write a letter to...

Mademoiselle d'amour.
Advice to the lovelorn.

Chere mademoiselle d'amour.

Isabel:
I've heard of a certain woman
of fine reputation...

Oh, of impeccable character
and very intelligent...

And of extreme intelligence.

A private person,

she cannot divulge her dilemma
to a living soul...

Her dilemma
to a living soul...

Her confusion regarding love.

Suddenly,
this woman has two men.

One is good and practical

and wishes to escort her
to church.

The other is a rotter
and a rake,

but his kiss seared her soul
like an all consuming flame.

(Tapping)

Emily:
Her head tells her one thing

while her heart tells her
another.

How can she choose

when she fancies both of them
in different ways?

Yours truly,
friend of confused.

I don't believe it.

I recognize
the handwriting.

It's cousin Isabel.

She's in love with two men!

Girls:
(Laugh)

Why stop at two?
I prefer ten.

One to kiss
each of my toes.

Ilse,
be serious.

Well, one's Mr. Stuart.
That's easy.

The second can only be
Mr. Carpenter.

Isabel Murray kissing
Mr. Carpenter?!

Can you imagine?

Ugh!
Not in a million years.

It has to be someone else.
But who?

Emily:
Uncle Malcolm,

can a person really love
two people at the same time?

Take aunt Laura,
for instance.

She's caught between Ian bowles
and Dr. Burnley.

And you were trapped
between Megan Moore

and your wife
all of your life.

Ah, Megan,

I knew true love
in my life, Lassie.

But at what cost?

Well, loving two people
makes life so dramatic.

All you need is a lot of room
in your heart.

Aye.

If I had been true
to my heart, Lassie,

I'd have been honest
and made a choice.

My wife and I were...
Ill suited.

Very unhappy.

And then I met Megan.

Uncle Malcolm,

what if loving
two people at once

is a trait that runs
in the Murray family?

It's not a trait,
Lassie.

It's a curse.

Violet eldritch:
What? What do you want?

Out of my way!
Excuse me!

What?!

I never dreamed
there'd be such readership.

I never thought
anyone bothered to read

unless they absolutely
had to,

'cause I never do.

Violet eldritch:
A certain well-known merchant...

Why, this piece of trash

ain't worth the paper
in the poop house.

Philip Stuart!

Mr. Stuart:
What is it, Violet?

Violet eldritch:
Oh, just our moth-eaten
dirty undies

flapping in the breeze

for everyone in Blair water
to see.

This is nothing
but a gossip rag.

Its sole purpose is
to stir up trouble.

(Crumples paper)

Folks come from miles
around to read it.

Good for business.

Well, I don't care.

We have to stop this
right now.

Make an honest woman of me,
Philip.

That'll stop their tongues
from waggin'.

Put an end to the loneliness
we both suffer.

I need to feel
the arms of a man

around my waist
at night.

Not even a gorilla

could get his arms
around that waist!

Mr. Stuart:
Velma?

Hello, Philip.

You came back.

I'm here ain't I?

Violet eldritch:
You think you can walk back
in his life,

just like that?

Well, how'd you expect me
to walk in,

with bells on?

You two-timin' tart.

You think you can waltz
back here

after what you did?

Well,
you're too late.

Philip Stuart has asked me
to marry him.

Marry you?!
That's pure hogwash.

He's my husband!

Not anymore.
Tell her, Philip.

Mr. Stuart:
Does anybody tell
the truth anymore?

Violet knows very well
that I...

I talked nothing
about marriage.

Oh, too busy chasing
after lady x.

Don't worry,
I read all about it.

Velma, you can't believe
what you read.

It's all nonsense.

If we write this,
no one will believe us.

Well,
I don't believe it

and I'm looking
right at it.

It's just...

It's such a difficult
time for me and...

I need someone
to talk to, but...

Jenny's as dumb
as a frog on a log,

and my aunt Violet,

she's more righteous
than the pope in Rome.

Well, rhoda,
I'm happy to talk to you.

Um, but...

Why do we gotta
talk alone?

You know, maybe we should go
back to the general store

and do our talking
out in the open,

like most folks do.

But I could never acknowledge
our friendship in public.

What would people think?

A dirt poor chore boy
from stovepipetown

and... me.

Rhoda, I ain't ashamed
of being a chore boy.

I'd be damned ashamed
of being a hypocrite though.

I'll see you later.

Mrs. Stuart:
And you, you, my own sister!

The minute my back is turned
there you are

with your hands
all over my husband.

Mother?

You think you can
change men

the way decent women
change stockings!

Mrs. Stuart:
You don't seem to mind
my hand-me-downs.

Mother.

Oh rhoda, dear.

You came back?

Violet eldritch:
Dumped, like a load of manure.

Rhoda, forgive me,
I made a mistake.

Forgetting your hat in church
is a mistake.

Violet eldritch:
Forgetting you have a family
is blasphemy.

Oh, you're a fine one
to talk!

The way you moved in
on my husband.

You dropped poor Philip
down a hole,

and it was my Christian duty
to pick him right back up.

Don't worry, child.

I won't let you grow up
motherless.

Mrs. Stuart:
...You wouldn't have enough

to stretch around the hair
on a flea's leg.

Violet eldritch:
Well, if you weren't as stupid

as the cat who couldn't climb
the tree,

you wouldn't of left him
in the first place!

(Humming)

Mr. Stuart,
what a pleasant surprise!

Well,
what's all this?

This is for you,
miss Murray.

Oh?

Or may I call you Isabel?

Well, let me see.
Oh, it's so lavish.

I could never
afford this.

Well...
Hmm.

This is a gift.

You must have it.

On any other woman,
it'd be an injustice.

Well, let me see.

What do you think of this,
Mr. Stuart?

Philip.

Phil...

Oh, mm, ach,
you're a married man.

I couldn't possibly take a gift
from a married man.

Well, I was hoping
to remedy the situation

as soon as I uh...
Get a divorce from velma.

Divorce?
Oh my lord!

I haven't told her yet,
but I will.

Well, you, you must.

Well, I've tried
but you know velma.

She's always
prattling on.

Huh.

But I will,

as soon as I can get
a word in edgewise.

Velma's back? Oh!

Oh,
poor dear Philip.

Well, if she's come back
to you then,

you should try to work
things out.

But she committed
adultery.

She left me.
She...Lied to me.

She...hurt me
to my very core.

I know.

My father did much worse
to my mother.

But they stayed
together.

The marriage vows
are sacred.

But what about
my feelings?

Well, you must
hide them and...

Not talk about them,

and then it'll be
as if they don't exist.

How can a person
live that way?

People do.

Believe me, Philip,
people do.

Lord!

Well, you've got
a lot of nerve

showin' your face
around here.

Mr. Carpenter:
We too have unfinished business.

Mr. Stuart,
if you would be so kind?

I was just leaving
as it is.

Bless you, Isabel,

your friendship
will always be dear to me.

Oh.

Velma will have a fit
if she sees this missing.

Yes, yes.
I understand.

Ilse:
Mr. Carpenter!

No wonder he can't write
anymore.

He's too busy trysting
in the woods!

(Laughing)

I cannot put you
from my thoughts.

I have never made
the acquaintance

of so enchanting a woman.

All that passion simmering
beneath the surface.

First you kiss me,

and now you're comparing me
to a pot of soup.

(Chuckles softly)

What's next?

A lifetime together,
is what I'm hoping.

You and I?

How can you presume?

I, I, I realize
I have few prospects.

And, uh,
I haven't much to offer you,

other than my word
as a gentleman

that I will never
lie to you.

Nor will I ever,
ever hurt you.

Good lord,

you're serious,
aren't you?

I've never been more serious
in my entire life.

Can you deny your feelings
for me?

Aye, I can.

I've been denying
my feelings all my life.

What makes you think
I can stop now?

Love.

After a lifetime of sacrifice
and duty to others,

we deserve some happiness
of our own making.

We're not young,

so each and every moment
is precious.

My sweet man.

(Breathlessly)
Oh dear...

Oh my dear, sweet...
Oh...

Ilse:
Are they ever coming out?

Why would they?

Now that Mr. Carpenter
found true love,

he'll never leave
Blair water.

But if he can't teach,

then what is
he going to do?

He can't live on love.

Love can free
a writer's soul.

He'll finish his novel

and I'll recommend him
to my New York publisher.

For all you know,

that publisher could be
reading my submission

at this very moment.

Emily starr,

even the greatest writer
couldn't have imagined

what's right in front
of your nose.

The return
of Mrs. Stuart.

Only to be shucked
like an oyster.

Perry Miller
tries to fend off

the desperate advances
of rhoda Stuart.

Emily:
Mr. Carpenter loses
his teaching position

but finds his muse.

Cousin Jimmy:
Where you headin'?

For a ride.

Not that I have
to explain myself to you

or anyone else
for that matter.

Well,
it's just not usual.

What is not usual

about wantin' to seize
the moment?

As Mr. Carpenter
so aptly points out,

every moment is precious.

Come on, boy.

Mr. Carpenter.
Hmm.

And cousin Isabel?

And to think I was
so happy and hopeful

he'd found true love.

Cousin Jimmy:
Well, the two of them
make sense.

Emily:
But Mr. Carpenter's so creative

and free-thinking;

cousin Isabel's so stubborn
and unbending.

Well, maybe that's
what makes sense.

Each one has
what the other hasn't.

Of course!
Opposites attract.

Here I am pretending to be
an expert

and I'm still missing

the most plain and simple
things about love.

I know what you been doing.

You're not gonna write
about them are ya?

But if you see something
with your own eyes,

then it's not fiction.
It's the truth.

Maybe the truth for you,
but not the truth for them.

Who knows the truth
between a man and a woman?

Ian:
Mademoiselle d'amour replies,

"if a sultan in persia is
allowed sixteen wives,

then surely your friend
can have two men."

Oh Ian, don't read
that silly rubbish to me.

I, I don't find it amusing,
I find it sad.

But darling,

if you took the time

to write a letter
to an expert on love,

surely you have the time
to listen to her reply.

You don't actually believe
I wrote that letter?

A woman writes
for advice.

She's in love
with two men.

How many others do we know
facing that dilemma?

Other than the person
that wrote that letter,

I couldn't really say.

Even mademoiselle d'amour
counsels caution.

To live happily ever after,
she advises to make a choice.

I made that choice.
Don't you know that by now?

Tell me the truth.

Look into my eyes.

Who do you see?
Who do you really see?

I see you.

All the time?

More often than not.

Well, I'm sorry,
my dear,

but that's just
not good enough.

Tell me you never think
of any other women

when we're together.

They never cross
your mind?

I'm a man,
it's only natural.

Oh, I understand.

A man is forgiven
and a woman is condemned.

When will a woman live
as freely as a man?

Never.

Hmm.

Mr. Carpenter:
"I have great hopes

that we shall love each other
all our lives

as much as if we'd never
been married at all."

Isabel:
If I hear you correctly,

it sounds as though

you're speaking out
against marriage.

Mr. Carpenter:
Well, these aren't my words.

Lord Byron wrote them
to his lover Annabelle

to whom he was married
a month later.

She left him
the following year.

No woman in her right mind
should marry a poet.

(Laughs)

Alas,
Byron was a romantic,

not much of a husband.

But he was
a brilliant poet.

You're giving me
love poems?

Love is poetry.

They are inseparable
companions.

Like we two.

To lady x
from her secret admirer.

Is that what
you're up to, Francis?

A secret romance.

Ah, I don't think
I have much use

for your poetry.

Ah,
you misunderstand me.

Oh no, I understand
you perfectly.

On the one hand,

you're saying
you want to spend

the rest of your life
with me.

And on the other hand,

you're saying
we'll never be married.

Marriage or no,
we will be together,

freely and openly,

and our love will have
no boundaries.

I do love you,
Isabel Murray,

and just once
I'd like to hear you

say it back to me.

Perhaps I will.

After a lengthy
courtship,

followed by
a long engagement.

Well, two people have to get
to know one another,

so there'll be no surprises.

And no secrets.

Well then, there's something
I must tell you about myself.

(Keys clacking on typewriter)

People are so desperate
for advice.

There's so much heartbreak
and confusion out there.

Perry:
And you're causing most of it.

Emily and ilse:
What are you doing?
Perry!

Something I should've done

before this little enterprise
even got started.

You're just mad at us
because we wrote about you.

Perry:
Look, ilse,

say what you want about me.
Go ahead.

But rhoda Stuart does not
deserve more hurt.

You've heard the expression

"the pen's mightier
than the sword"?

Think about that next time

you use your pen
to stab someone in the back.

(Paper crumpling)

(Humming)

What do you think
you're doing?

What does it look like
I'm doing, father?

I meant,

what is lady x
doing with a secret admirer?

I put two and two
together

and the secret
was no longer a secret.

Aye.

But it's still
none of your business.

My only daughter
courted by a married man

bloody well is my business.

Who told you
he was married?

His wife may have run off
with a perfume salesman,

but under the law...

(Burst of laughter)
Father!

It's not Mr. Stuart,
it's Francis carpenter.

Ancis carpenter?
Aye.

You're in love
with Francis carpenter?

I didn't say that.

But...
We spoke of love.

What a man says
and what a woman hears

is often
two different things.

I am not a child.

You're my child until
your heart stops beating

and the breath
leaves your body.

Francis carpenter
is a bounder

without backbone
or character.

Ask Emily starr
about Francis carpenter.

She'll tell you
he's the kindest,

gentlest man in the world.

He cannot hold
a decent job.

And he runs to the bottle
whenever there's a problem.

There's the pot
calling the kettle black.

I still forbid you
to marry him.

Who said anything
about marriage?

Any man that proposes love
without marriage

to my daughter...

Reminds you of yourself
and Megan Moore?

Megan Moore is fine, and good,
and decent,

and she has loved me
beyond all.

If your Mr. Carpenter
had half her qualities,

I might begin
to tolerate him.

Well, you'll have
a chance to decide.

I've invited him
to Sunday dinner

and he's accepted.

I beg you father,
be fair.

If we apologize
to rhoda Stuart

then all of Blair water
will know what we've done.

Then we have to apologize
to the whole entire world.

It's not our fault

that we're always
in the wrong place

at the right time.

(Bell jingles)

Rhoda:
Don't go, aunt Violet.

It ain't my business.

I ain't wanted.

I wash my hands of this family.

Mrs. Stuart:
Rhoda!

Go on.
Go back.

Your mother's
calling you.

Mother!

You mean that heartless
creature

that will do anything,
say anything,

now that the perfume salesman
sent her packing?

Mr. Stuart:
Rhoda, please!

Rhoda:
And you, father!

Do you actually expect me
to believe

that she's here to stay?

Rhoda, we have to learn
to trust.

Trust her?
That's not trust.

That'd be stupidity.

Now, you listen to me,
young lady!

Our family has been given
a second chance.

Now don't go ruining it.

What have I done?

Don't go blaming me
when it's all her fault!

Oh god,
here we go again.

Oh, maybe rhoda's right.

Maybe, it is foolish
to try again.

I'm willing.

Philip,

I know I can't turn back
the clock

or undo the harm I done.

But, from now on, I...

I promise to do right
by you and rhoda.

Velma,
that's the sweetest thing

you've ever said.

But I just gotta know
one thing.

Lady x thrilled to be
in the company

of a certain gentleman.

That certain gentleman
is you, ain't it?

As you said velma,
I can't undo what's done.

But I promise you,

there's nothing between me
and Isabel

except friendship.

But if Isabel Murray
ain't in love with you,

who is she in love with?

Well, you can't tell
a living soul, but...

It's Francis carpenter.

Woman:
Excuse me.

Mrs. Stuart:
It's Sunday, we're closed.

Now...
How can I help you?

Well, I've just arrived

and I'm inquiring
after the school teacher.

That'll be Isabel Murray
of new moon.

Oh, I don't understand,

I thought that
Francis carpenter

was the teacher
at Blair water school.

He was discharged.

(Sighs) Drinking again,
I'll wager.

Relation of yours,
is he?

Yes, I'm Evelyn.

Evelyn carpenter,
his wife.

Emily:
"Chere mademoiselle d'amour,

I have a friend
who is a talented writer,

but instead of practicing
her craft,

she's wasting her time meddling
in the affairs of others

and tampering with fate."

Signed,
Francis carpenter.

(Scoffs)
He should talk.

He's lower than a worm
in a wagon rut.

He's no worse
or better than we are.

He's a rotten liar.

All this time
we've known him,

he never even mentioned
anything about his wife.

What other deep dark secrets
is he hiding from us.

Poor cousin Isabel.

She's lost her heart
to a married man

and she doesn't
even know it.

His wife's
in Blair water!

I think you owe it to her
to spill the beans.

No, I can't.

As much as I hate
to admit it,

Mr. Carpenter's right.

Mademoiselle d'amour
is dead.

I've learned my lesson
about kicking the cat.

Well, if you're not
gonna tell her,

I will.

Isabel:
Tell? What is there to tell?

Ilse:
T-t-t-to tell?

Oh, oh, the time.
I have to run.

Oh, for goodness sake.

Emily starr,

you're supposed to be
helping me,

not yammering
with your friends.

Cousin Isabel,
you look so lovely.

You deserve everything
you've ever dreamed of

in the whole
entire world.

Most of all,
you deserve to be happy.

Happy?

Maybe I already am.

Emily:
Cousin Isabel! Quick!
He's here!

Mr. Carpenter:
My compliments, Isabel.

This is a feast

for a man who lives the life
of a bachelor.

Emily:
(Choking)

Isabel:
Emily starr!

I don't know what's gotten
into this family.

It's just our usual
Sunday meal.

(Choking)

Isabel:
Cover your mouth!

I'm sorry.

I got a fishbone
stuck in my craw.

Isabel:
We're eating lamb!

Oh, well, I'm just so used
to eating COD

and potato casserole
on sundays.

Cousin Jimmy:
He's right.

And eatin' the leftovers
all the next week.

Isabel:
I do love to cook.

Mr. Carpenter:
I myself am adept
at the culinary arts.

Isabel:
Are you?

Just with the teachin'
nowadays,

sometimes the housework falls
by the wayside.

Uncle Malcolm:
From the looks of things,

you'll be back to th cooking
and cleaning soon enough.

Cousin Jimmy:
You can't... be a teacher
and be married.

That's against the law.

Perry:
I know!

Ain't that the stupidest law
you ever heard of?

I mean, what...

You're getting married?!

Emily:
Cousin Isabel, I'm sorry,

but there's something
I must say.

You can't marry that cad,
he's already married.

Isabel:
Emily starr.

This ain't another one
of your fibs, is it?

I wish it were.

Emily:
My heart breaks for you,
cousin Isabel,

but I had to say something.

What makes you think
I didn't already know?

You did?

Mm-hmm.

How?

I told her.

Isabel:
As he tells me everything.

As any honorable gentleman
would.

But it's still
none of your business.

Mr. Carpenter:
This is no one's business but-

uncle Malcolm:
Mine!

What are your intentions,
Mr. Carpenter?

Mr. Carpenter:
Sir,

that I am married is true.

However, my wife left me
and I, I do not blame her.

It cannot be easy
dwelling with a writer,

especially a failed one.

Living hand to mouth,

rejection letters,

and in my case,
the drinking.

I wish I could make amends,

but I have not seen her
in a decade.

Emily:
Why are you lying,
Mr. Carpenter?

I don't understand.
I thought you cared.

I do care, Emily.

What would I gain from lying?

Cousin Jimmy:
Well, he's, he's a good fella.

He owed me three dollars once
and he paid it right back.

Please, cousin Isabel,

I saw his wife
with my own eyes.

Mr. Carpenter:
You saw Evelyn?
Here in Blair water?

Emily!

At the general store.

Please, cousin Isabel,
you have to hear me out.

Emily starr, I forbid you
to say another word to me.

This is not fodder
for your wee tattler

so that everyone can have
a good laugh at my expense.

(Knocking at the door)

Mr. Carpenter:
Emily, these are our lives
that you're toying with here.

(Insistent knocking)

For god's sake, Perry,
answer the door.

I didn't mean any harm.

Well, you've caused plenty,
haven't you?

Sir, if I might finish
declaring my intentions?

I had hoped to speak
to you privately.

I will find a way
to get a divorce.

Oh, good lord.

Tell the whole world.

Shout it down
from the highest mountain.

Isabel Murray,
I love you so deeply,

and it is my intention
to marry you.

Oh.

If you will have...
Evelyn?

Francis.

What...
What are you...?

I wanted to meet the infamous
Isabel Murray of new moon.

The woman with whom
my husband is in love.

Mr. Carpenter:
Evelyn, I never...
I'm...

Speechless.

Aye, speechless.

As are we all,

at this unexpected
pleasure.

I am Isabel Murray.

And I am delighted
to finally meet you.

Oh, as for this drivel...
(Paper crumpling)

Nobody in Blair water
takes it seriously.

Isn't that right, Emily?

Our Emily is the wee sprite

who makes up
these tall tales.

And I don't have to tell you
how writers are.

Well, they simply can't tell
the difference

between fact and fiction.

Emily:
She's right,
none of it's true.

Mrs. Carpenter,

your husband is a dear friend
of this family.

He has spoken of you often,

of his love for you,

of his belief in the sacredness
of the marriage vows.

Should you ever return.

Is this really true,
Francis?

I couldn't have
said it better myself.

Thank you,
miss Murray.

(Crying)

Oh daughter,
oh Lassie.

Oh, ye poor Lassie.

If it's any help
at all,

(wracking sobs)

I am proud
of what you did.

(Sniffles)

(Sobbing)
Father, father.

(Paper crumpling)

Emily.

I'm not speaking
to you.

Except to say,
take this back.

Well, I, I came to say
goodbye to you,

now I find I don't quite
know what to say.

The truth.

Isn't that what
you always told me?

Yes, it is.

You know, Emily,

if only we could plot out
our lives in advance,

instead of stumbling
through them

like blind animals.

Well, then we could
wrap it all up

in a neat package,
with a happy ending.

However, life is anything
but neat.

(Laughs)
It's messy.

Well, you certainly made
a mess of yours.

Every time things
get too complicated,

you either take to the bottle
or leave town.

Or both!

Well, it's different
this time.

I have a responsibility
to my wife.

Uh, to uh,

explore the possibilities
of making a life together.

To my, uh,
to myself,

for the work of my writing.

I've uh,
I've chosen a path

and, and I'm gonna see it
through to the end.

I guess I have Isabel
to thank for that.

Don't bother!

She wouldn't speak to you
in a million years.

Her heart is shattered.

As is mine.

As is mine.

Well, uh, goodbye.

(Shouting) Don't you go
drowning your sorrows

in a bottle!

Don't you dare...
(Quietly) Go.

From one writer to another,

any good?

"The heart knows"
by Francis carpenter.

Dedicated to my inspiration,
Emily byrd starr.

Oh, how I pray he has
the courage to finish.

Emily:
Mr. Carpenter wrote
to cousin Isabel.

He didn't promise to return,

but should he ever come back,

it will be as a free man.

Isabel:
Rubbish.

Emily:
As for the manuscript
I sent away to New York,

I received a letter
from the publisher.

He said he found my story

to be lacking emotion
and passion.

Too much like the day-to-day
grind of life

and not dramatic or romantic
like good fiction.