All language subtitles for Upstairs Downstairs (S01E01) On Trial 1080p H.264 (moviesbyrizzo conv)

Well?

Mrs. Pratt's agency sent me.

Well?

I've come about the position.

House parlormaid, was it?

Under-house parlormaid, I
am the house parlormaid.

Well, come in.

I'll tell Mr. Hudson
you're here.

Who's Mr Hudson?

The butler.

Oh, the bloke all in
black at the front door?

Wait in there.

Oh, my finger, oh, it's
half coming off!

It's not gone altogether,
then, has it?

Oh, I daren't look.

If you got blood on
them potatoes, my girl,

you can throw them away,
and start all over again.

And get a move on, girl!

Who are you, when
you're at home?

-Where is Alfred?

He's taken my button hooks,
again, I know he has.

Well, what am I gonna do?

Go to Mr. Hudson, Miss Roberts.

Don't come whining round me.

I'm all behind, like
a cow's tail.

Well, well?

-Spying, are you?
-No, I've been sent by-

What have you done with
my button hooks?

-Oh!
-Alfred.

Get out from under my feet,

-the pair of you.
-

Somebody answer that
bell, Alfred!

Cat got you tongue, has it?

-Well, be off with you!
-No, I'm just about

-to explain.
-Blood everywhere!

Oh.

No one cares.

My name is Clemence.

Clemence.

I've come about the position.

Clemence?

What sort of a name is that?

Answer me.

Are they in your silver
box or not?

A silent woman is above rubies.

Well?

It's a French name.

We don't want no foreign
muck in here.

None of your nasty old
Josine, thank you very much.

Greasy mutton again,
then, Mrs. Bridges?

Ow!

None of that behaviour in
my kitchen, Mr. Pearce.

Keep that for your stables!

-Oh, Mrs.
-And be off with you!

Oh!

The milk's caught!

Now, see what you've
made me do, all.

This place'll be
the death of me.

What's wrong with
mutton, anyway?

-I'll bleed to death.
-Good!

Hasn't have anyone seen
my button hooks?

All twelve vanished.

Well, what's to become of me?

"Let your discourse be
'Yea, Yea' and 'Nay, Nay,'

for whatsoever is more
than this is of evil."

Oh!

Who's he?

Alfred, the footman.

Take no notice of him.

He was brought up religious.

-He's got a funny-
-I thought I told you

-to wait in there!
-I'm sorry.

Cook said she wanted to-

I said nothing of the sort.

And it's Mrs. Bridges,
if you please.

Not "Cook."

This is a gentleman's house.

We're not making a very
good start, are we?

Well, come on.

Mr. Hudson's waiting for you.

The new girl
about the position, my lady.

Yes, Hudson.

Ask her to come in, will you?

"To whom it may concern,

-the bearer of this-
-

The bearer of this letter

is well recommended
for domestic...

Mm-hm.

What is your name?

Clemence Dumas.

And you are French?

Half French.

You must call me my lady,
when you reply.

I'm sorry, my lady.

This letter appears
to be from someone

whose name I cannot read,

who lives at the Chateau
Lac du Champs, near Lyon.

I haven't heard of it.

No, neither did I, my
lady, till I got there.

Why did you leave your
previous employment?

My mother was took sick and
I had to return to England.

-I hope she's better now.
-Pardon, my lady?

It's important to be able
to concentrate on your work.

Oh, that's all right.

She died.

I'm sorry.

I must assume the agency
has checked your reference.

Yes, that's right.

You're new to service,
are you not?

This hat, all their
mitts and everything

-all over the chairs.
-They'd never

take that girl on.

Her?

She couldn't tell a feather
duster from a boa constrictor.

Quite unsuitable.

-She went to the front door.
-You're quite right, Rose.

Untrained and blind
to all decency.

Is luncheon ready, Mrs. Bridges?

I confess to a wholesome
appetite.

In two shakes of a
lamb's tail, Mr. Hudson.

I've had trouble with
the range again.

Damp's got into the coal.

Hasn't it, Emily?

-Oh!

That must be the morning room.

Yes.

Mr. Hudson?

Right,
thank you, Rose.

Clemence Dumas.

Fancy trying to get into
service with a name like that.

Well, I hope she gets taken on.

-I liked her.
-It's not for you to hope,

nor not to hope neither,
for that matter, Emily.

It's for you to keep
the fire in.

You let it go out on purpose.

Oh, I never did.

The coal's wet.

And that's Alfred's fault.

He always leaves the
coal house door open.

I'll put you in the coal house.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

Don't pass blame, Emily.

Ah, now, you're against me, too.

Oh, yes, Hudson.

I intend to engage
this young woman.

She'll have her dinner
in the servant's hall

and collect her belongings
afterwards.

Rose can show her what to do.

And the young person's
name, my lady?

Sarah.

-No, my name is Clemence.
-Clemence is not

a servant's name.

Yes, but, I don't like-

Go with
Hudson, Sarah.

And remember, you're
here on trial.

Yes, my lady.

Mr. Hudson, do I have to be

-called Sarah?
-Yes.

-I don't like it.
-It is not for you

to question your betters.

Are you my better?

-Indeed, I am.
-What makes you

better than me?

I'm not being rude.

I just want to know.

I am older than you,
and therefore wiser,

and I have learned humility.

You?

It is a hard lesson, but
once learned never forgotten.

How did you learn it?

My grandmother was a proud
woman and died of starvation.

I just can't abide cold food.

Greasy mutton.

It'll taste all the
better for the waiting.

Emily, another plate.

Alfred, get a chair.

Thank you, Emily.

May the Lord bless
our endeavours,

and grant us conciliation
to that rank,

in which, in his infinite mercy,

he has seen fit to place us,

and for what we are about to
receive of his great bounty,

may we be truly grateful

that in the end, we may
find favour in his eyes,

and sit in honour at his table.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Sarah is joining us

as under-house parlormaid,
Miss Roberts.

Indeed, Mr. Hudson.

On trial, I take it?

On trial.

Rose, you are to instruct
Sarah in her duties.

Yes, Mr. Hudson.

With a good heart and a glad
will, if you please, Rose.

Naturally, Mr. Hudson.

That's Miss Roberts.

She's her ladyship's
personal maid.

That's Mr. Pearce, Mr.
Pearce is the coachman.

That's Emily.

-Emily does-
-

Silence, if you please.

Everyone is served,
Mrs. Bridges.

Thank you, Mr. Hudson.

You may talk.

Mutton again.

What's wrong with mutton,
Mr. Pearce,

with a nice drop of caper sauce?

Nothing, Miss Roberts.

Nothing at all.

Perhaps you'd prefer to
eat hay, like your horses.

Forget
I spoke, ladies.

Can I have the caper
sauce, please?

It's not
food for young women.

Overheats the blood.

Millions would be grateful
for what we have, Mr. Pearce.

Yes, Mr Hudson.

Wouldn't
you agree, Sarah?

Mr Hudson's addressing
you, Sarah.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

It's just that the name's
so unfamiliar.

Couldn't I be called
Clemence, if only down here?

In all my years,

I've never heard of such
a name below stairs.

Whatever was your mother
thinking of?

Search the good book
from cover to cover

and not find that name.

Lady Marjorie's wishes
must be respected.

Clemence.

A good name for a filly, I'll
say that, but hardly a human.

I think it's a lovely name.

As I was saying,

millions would be grateful
for mutton once a week,

let alone mutton once a day.

Wouldn't you agree, Sarah?

Yes, Mr Hudson.

Did you really live
in France, Sarah?

Yes.

Were you in service there?

No, I lived in a chateau.

Once I had my own maid,
like Lady Marjorie.

I think we must learn to
take Sarah's statements

with a pinch of salt.

I don't lie.

She didn't say you did.

Perhaps you just exaggerate.

If our ladyship finds
Sarah satisfactory,

I'm sure we all do.

It is not for us
either to choose

or judge our companions
in service,

Rose, as you know very well.

Have a little more
caper sauce, dear.

Thank you.

Say something in French, then.

Some other time.

What are you laughing for?

Don't you believe me?

-You're as English as I am.
-I'm not.

My mother was a gypsy.

I can read hands and
tell the future

and put curses on people.

Lord, preserve us.

The Witch of Endor, herself.

If my mother was a gypsy
I wouldn't speak of it.

I nearly ran off with the
gipsies once when I was a girl.

That was a long time ago.

Oh, not as long as all
that, Mrs. Bridges.

A little more sauce, Mr. Hudson?

I think there's just
a scrape left.

Thank you.

I'm not ashamed of my mother.

She was a gypsy princess
and very beautiful.

More mutton, Mrs. Bridges?

Just a morsel, thank
you, Mr. Hudson.

A French count saw her
and married her,

and she died giving birth to me.

Well, my father married,
again, a very wicked woman,

and when he died, she
treated me like a servant

and in the end she
threw me out altogether.

But I've got lawyers
fighting for me,

and in the end, I'll
come into my own.

In the meantime, I must
live as best as I can.

Oh, it's just
like a story in a book.

Exactly, Emily, a tale
from a penny novelette.

All very well for
a kitchen maid,

but not what one expects
from a house parlormaid.

Say something in French, go on.

Would you like me to read your
hand for you, Mrs. Bridges?

Shall she read my
hand, Mr. Hudson?

By all means, Mrs.
Bridges, if it pleases you.

After dinner.

Oh, do mine, do mine!

Wicked nonsense.

There
are more things

in heaven and earth, Rose.

Truth is stranger than fiction.

It's unhealthy and dangerous.

Not if you have a
clear conscience.

It isn't given to
mortals to know the future.

Oh, yes, it is, but it's
against the will of God.

Look what happened
to King David.

He didn't do so bad,
though, did he?

Dirty old devil!

My gift comes from
God, not the devil.

-She ought to be locked up!
-Rose!

That's enough.

Well, why won't she say
something in French, then?

Answer that.

'Cause she can't, that's why.

Because she don't choose
to, that's why.

Don't let these old
prudes upset you, Sarah.

What's for pudding
then, Mrs. Bridges?

Roly-poly, Mr. Pearce.

And don't you go telling me
nothing I don't want to hear,

or you'll get your ears boxed.

And even as King David
went to the Witch of Endor,

so did Mrs. Bridges seek
knowledge from our Sarah, here.

Someone's gonna get
struck by lightning.

Oh, Sarah.

Say something in French, go on.

If you can.

Mm, very nice.

Come on, get up!

-It's half past five!
-

Oh!

Alfred, I'll kill you!

Where am I?

You're in Mr. Bellamy's house
in the servants' quarters.

Where else?

And it's time to get up.

If we get behind in the morning,
there's trouble all day.

-So, up with you.
-

Me legs won't work.

Me feet are cold.

Oh, they will, 'cause they must.

It's half past five.

Better once you're up.

-

Well, come on, you'll be late.

I trust you can remember
your duties.

When you're dressed and
ready, what then?

I must make sure

that Emily's got the
range working properly,

Bridges can get on.

Then, I lay up breakfast
in the servants' hall,

then there's Lady
Marjorie's tray.

And don't forget to shine
up the milk jug,

for goodness' sake, and don't
leave sticky finger marks.

The last girl always did.

Then there's the servants'
breakfast.

I suppose I'm allowed
to sit down and eat.

After breakfast,

make sure Emily's not hiding
in the boot hole, again.

If she is and won't
budge, inform me.

I shall be brushing and
dusting in the drawing room

and the morning room.

Well, go on.

Uh, then, upstairs and
clean out the grates

and relay and light the fires,

if I can find the matches.

You got a good memory,
I'll say that for you.

Oh!

Quiet as a mouse doing
the grates, please.

Call me to draw the
master's bath.

I'd better do that
for the time being.

But you fetch the hot water.

Now, If the boiler's
troublesome,

you'll have to use the
hot water kettle.

Now, after the baths, I'll
lay upstairs breakfast.

I'd like you to help me there.

And make sure Emily's got
all the boots and shoes done.

She keeps falling asleep in
the mornings, I don't know why.

And keep out of Mr. Bellamy's
way, whatever you do.

Why?

Just pretend you're not there,
especially in the mornings.

Scruffy boots.

That will never do.

Do you want to borrow
a pair of mine?

I have a spare pair.

Thank you.

A bit small, I daresay,

but better sore feet
than shabby boots.

Oh, and today's the day
for fresh bed linen.

Now, it's a bit of a rush,

'cause it's got to be done
while they're having breakfast.

And Lady Marjorie
eats like a little bird.

Oh, and the towels, of course.

-If they're at all damp-
-I'll never remember it all!

Well, you must.

Anyway, here's a list.

Oh, I forgot.

You've got it upside down.

Oh, so I have.

Put your collar studs in, girl.

I'm cold.

Hmm, well, work soon warms you.

Oh, Mrs. Bridges will kill me.

Oh, and I'm late with
their morning tea, again.

Oh! Oh, get the fire a
blown up for me, will you?

It's not going properly yet.

It never has and it never will.

-Who gets blamed?
-

Oh, who are you?

I work here.

Good luck to ya, then.

Where is she?

Who?

Who do you think?

Oh, it's you, Matty.

She's on her way down now,
only I was late callin' her.

She's in such a wax.

You should be laying out the
servants' breakfast, go on.

Yeah.

Well, go on!

You're 10 minutes late!

Pull your hair and tweak
your nose, Emily,

till you wish you
hadn't got one!

Tea like dishwater!

Not fit to drink, not
that it ever is.

If you put boiling water
on that pot, my girl,

may lightning strike me
before it gets to you.

Oh, I swear I did, Mrs. Bridges.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Bubbling its head off,

-the kettle was.
-Oh.

She's waiting for
you, Mrs. Bridges.

Who?

-Matty.
-Matty?

Why didn't you say so?

Put a cloth on the
table before you lay up.

-There you are, Matty.
-Thank you.

-It's a nice, plump one.
-Thank you.

Morning, Rose.

Morning, Mrs. Bridges.

Sarah!

What are you thinking of,
why isn't that table laid?

What have you been doing?

I shall
require my best silk hat.

Very good, sir.

I'll send it round to the
hatters for ironing this
morning.

The, uh, new under-house
parlormaid, sir.

I see.

Oh, it's quite nice, isn't it?

But why change?

Mornings, we're housemaids.

Afternoons, we're
parlormaids, see?

-Oh.
-Come on.

Is that kettle boiled yet?

Almost.

Get the silver sugar
bowl from the cupboard.

What for?

Her ladyship's tray.

She'll be expecting it
when she comes in.

The milk jug's in
the larder, Rose.

There we are.

Where does Lady Marjorie
go to in the afternoons?

Playing cards, mostly, or
just driving in the park.

To while away the
time, I suppose,

till Mr. Bellamy gets
home from Parliament.

I wouldn't fancy it.

Oh, I would.

Imagine driving round and
round in a fine carriage

with strong, white horses
and everyone looking at you?

That could be her ladyship back.

Always punctual.

Here, I'll take it up.

No.

Not until she rings for it.

And I'll take it up
this afternoon.

You can fetch it, if
you behave yourself.

A very pleasant afternoon,
milady.

Yes, isn't it, Hudson?

Your tea, milady.

Thank you, Rose.

Mrs. Bridges thought you
might be a bit hungry, milady.

Rose.

How do you find the new girl?

Quite satisfactory, my lady.

I hope you're looking after her.

Of course, milady.

Will that be all, milady?

She claims to be
something of a seamstress,

so I set her to repairing
the tapestry cushion.

I thought we were going
to send it out, milady.

It's very old and very delicate,

otherwise, of course, I would
have undertaken it myself.

Well, she
has delicate fingers

and nice, neat movements.

Yes, my lady.

Will that be all, milady?

I'd be interested to see it
as soon as she's finished it.

Very good, milady.

If I was rich, I'd have a
little cottage in the country,

and no one to shout to
me, and lots of kids.

I'd never forget their names
the way our mum did us.

Oh, that's boring.

That's not exciting.

I want excitement.

Time for a chat, I see.

Tea's a poison.

It's full of tannin.

-Sarah.
-Yeah?

I thought you were
supposed to be

sewing Lady Marjorie's cushion.

I hope you know it's
worth hundreds of pounds.

You might least be
getting on with it.

I've done it.

Where? Show me.

Oh, I see.

Well, you'd better take
it up to her, then,

-hadn't you?
-What, now?

-I haven't finished me tea.
-At once! Oh.

That's beautifully done.

Thank you, milady.

Where did you learn
to sew like that?

In a convent.

In France?

Yes, that's right.

Were the nuns good to you?

Most of the time.

But, sometimes, they'd dress
me in a long, canvas robe

and shut me up in a dark
cell with no food or water

for a whole day.

Why?

To teach me to be
thankful, milady.

What for?

God's mercy.

That was a strange way of
bringing you to know it.

Yes, that's what I said,
and back I went.

What other talents have
you besides sewing?

None, really.

Are you sure?

Well, I can tell fortunes.

Hands and tea leaves.

I could do yours, milady.

-What nonsense.
-No, I'm very good at it.

I'm never wrong.

I know what my future is.

Do you, my lady?

Very well, Sarah, what
do you see there?

A tall, dark stranger
from overseas, I suppose.

-Yes, there is.
-Bringing

good fortune with him?

Bringing mixed fortune,
good and bad.

He bears a sword, and he's
about to use it and should not.

Dear me.

Oh, does it mean
something to you,

-milady?
-Indeed, it does not.

You see, there's first
an increase in wealth,

then a decrease.

Now, you are surrounded
by many friends

and they all wish you well,
except one, a false friend.

How alarming.

You should watch your health.

That's all, milady.

Oh, there's a gentleman of
great authority near the rim,

nearly out of the picture,
but I think,

yes, I think he's coming
nearer to you.

Yes, Mr. Bellamy.

He'll be home soon.

This is superstitious nonsense.

-No, milady!
-That'll do, Sarah.

You can go, now.

Sarah?

Mr. Bellamy wanting
to dress for dinner.

Her ladyship's evening gloves!

Oh, there she is, ringing me.

I can't be in two
places at once!

Alfred, are you sure
you haven't seen them?

Gloves? What should
I know about gloves?

Well, I was sewing
a button on them.

You must have seen them.

Alfred, take these up
to the dressing room.

Give the trousers a final
brush before you lay them out.

Now, remember, that
waistcoat is white

and must remain white.

Now, look sharp, the carriage
is ordered for eight o'clock.

-Emily!
-

Yes, Mr. Hudson?

More coal in the boiler at once.

The bath water's not
properly hot yet.

Oh, everything's at
the last minute!

Her gloves in Alfred's
night box,

and make sure that her pearls-

Cool and calm, Miss Roberts.

Cool and calm.

-Be temperate.
-Mr. Hudson?

-Yes?
-The carriage is here,

and Mr. Pearce wants to know
what time they're leaving.

Tell him eight o'clock.

He's early.

No, no. Not there, my girl.

In my pantry.

Hat, sir.

Hudson.

Where are you going?

Out.

It's the gypsy in me.

I can't bear to be shut in.

Does Mr. Hudson
know you're going?

It's only for a minute.

But you have to ask
him or you get into trouble.

Well, I'm not asking him

and you're not gonna
tell him, are you?

-No.
-Right.

Then I'll tell your fortune
for you, when I get back.

But if you breathe a
word to a living soul,

I'll curse you,

and your blood will turn
to ice in your veins

and you will die horribly
within the week.

There.

You'll ruin your eyes, Emily.

What's it matter?

I won't be needing
them much longer.

No?

When I breathe, I get a pain.

The good die young, they say.

And I have a the impression
on me chest.

I wish you'd stop reading
that rubbish.

It isn't rubbish!

Things like that do happen.

I think Sarah is more
tragic and more romantic

than anything in a book.

I would lay down my life
for her, if it was asked.

Would you?

Well, where is she, then?

I do not know.

I am silent.

What's the matter with you?

Torture me to death if you wish.

My lips are sealed.

Oh, for goodness' sake.

I only want her to
turn down the beds.

It's on her list as
clear as daylight.

Or, do I have to
do her work, too?

And you can pull out
my toenails one by one

and I still shan't speak.

What's the matter
with that girl?

Why isn't she in bed?

I want to wait up till
they come back,

-please.
-There won't be

-anything to see.
-Oh, there might be.

They might bring someone
with them.

Oh, a tall, dark stranger
from across the seas,

who'll fall in love with me,
and take me away from all this.

It's Sarah.

She's been putting
ideas in her head.

She has strange powers.

She sees things we can't see.

Stuff and nonsense.

We can't have this, can we,

-Mrs. Bridges?
-We can not.

I'm just gonna fetch
some bread and cheese.

Do you care for a bit, Rose?

Very much, Mrs. Bridges.

I am a bit peckish.

Emily.

You sure you don't know
where Sarah is?

-She's not in the kitchen.
-I don't.

She's not in the pantry.

Emily, look at me.

I want the truth.

All right, then!

Who's been at my larder?

Where's Mr. Hudson?

It's a matter for the
police, nothing less!

-Mr. Hudson!
-Well, what's happened?

Somebody's stolen a bird
out of my larder.

-That's what's happened.
-Are you sure?

You think I don't know
me own larder?

Mr. Hudson!

Emily, where is Sarah?

She hasn't gone out, has she?

Did you call, Mrs. Bridges?

I did, indeed, Mr. Hudson.

Why was that, Mrs. Bridges?

Because a plucked and dressed
bird cannot walk, Mr. Hudson.

We have a thief in our midst.

A human fox, a chicken stealer.

When I lay my eyes on
her, I'll skin her alive.

-Or him.
-Silence!

Kindly assemble the
staff in question.

If that's what you
want, Mrs. Bridges.

How long has the melancholy
fowl been missing?

20 minutes, Mr. Hudson,

since I last saw it
laying on the shelf.

Oh, in that case, we have the
staff in question assembled,

with the exception of Sarah,

who seems to be temporarily
absent.

You would hardly steal your
own bird, Mrs. Bridges,

and then complain of it.

We know Rose would not, could
not, and if Emily had done it,

I swear there would still
be feathers round her mouth.

It was a plucked and
dressed bird, Mr. Hudson.

Not a feather left upon it.

Even the back fluff was singed.

I was speaking in metaphor,
Mrs. Bridges.

I'm led to the conclusion
that the guilty party

is none other than Sarah,
the stranger in our midst.

Not a gypsy princess after
all, but a common thief.

I knew it.

And what is to be done with
a creature so unnatural?

-I stole it.
-And in what dark hole,

I wonder, is she hiding?

It was me, not her!

Emily knows.

I know nothing.

I don't want my blood
turned to ice.

All this fuss about a bird.

It was you who summoned
me, Mrs. Bridges.

Well, perhaps a rat took it off.

Or a team of cockroaches
working in earnest, I daresay.

A principle is at stake, ladies.

A chicken today, emeralds
tomorrow,

and the whole staff
under suspicion.

It is not, after all,

as if Sarah had the
privileges granted by custom

and common humanity to the cook.

When she comes back,
I'll skin her alive.

Oh, I swear, I swear I
don't know where she is.

-I swear.
-If she comes back.

It'd be better for everyone
if she didn't!

Well.

-There she is.
-Sarah, I never told them.

-Sarah, come in here!
-They threatened torture

but I never said a word.

Shut the door.

-Liar!
-I didn't so much as

a little whisper, Sarah.

A little whisper Sarah,

-honestly.
-Slut!

Walking the streets at night,

not even bothering

-to turn the beds down.
-Rose, that's enough of that!

You, too, Emily.

We have reason to believe
that you have stolen a chicken

from Mrs. Bridge's larder,

that you have crept
out into the night

to dispose of your
forbidden loot,

and have returned with
your ill-gotten profits

concealed about your person.

What have you to
say for yourself?

Well?

If Mrs. Bridges can do it,
why the hell shouldn't I?

Well?

-

Thank you, Alfred.

You may go to bed now.

Thank you, sir.

Hmm.

You'll have nothing, my dear?

No, thank you.

Strange to see Archie Hasleff

across the dining table
again, and his new wife.

But I see why it all happened.

What eyes that woman has.

One can hardly excuse it.

It's the thin end of
the wedge, you know.

Soon, we'll see divorced
people everywhere,

be obliged to chat and smile
as if it were nothing unusual.

In a moment, I'm afraid
you'll say,

"And the old queen hardly
cold in her grave."

Well, it's true, I
don't like change.

It goes too quickly,

becomes not progress
but disintegration.

Spoken like a good
English woman,

and an excellent wife
for a Tory politician.

Oh, tomorrow doesn't
bear thinking about,

Joe Chamberlain on tariff
reform again,

and the front bench
shuffling in its shoes.

Well, the Prime Minister
should be more firm with him.

My father wouldn't have
put up with it.

Your father, he'd have
run England single-handed

if he could.

Knew the value of firmness
and resolution.

And you're your father's
daughter.

I hope so.

Don't bother your pretty head.

These are mens' matters.

Don't say that.

Now, why should I not
bother my head?

It has precious little
else to fill it.

No.

-You do so much.
-What do I do?

You run this house.

The servants do that
in their own way.

Yes, and a lot goes on
that I know nothing about.

I saw a light downstairs.

The servants are still up.

Have some hot milk.

Everyone worries too
much about me.

No, don't drink.

You know I don't like bells
ringing late in dark corridors.

One day, you know, if things
go on as they have been,

you might ring and ring
and no one would ever come.

-Hm?
-There'll be nobody there.

I'm not as bad as you think.

Don't get the police.

You're a thief.

Do you deny it?

When I saw Mrs. Bridges doing
it, I thought anyone could.

Then you were wrong to think
you were as good as her.

I didn't think of it
that way, please.

Oh, please, is it, now?

We have changed our
tune, haven't we?

Look, I'll never do
anything like it again.

I've given the money
to Mrs. Bridges.

What good will it do
to have me pinched?

I thought we was all
on the same side.

Poor girl, one could
pity her, I suppose.

-She's a moral imbecile.
-What have I done to you?

You pretend to be something
you are not.

You make yourself out
to be better than us.

Not better, just
more interesting.

Well, it does no one any harm.

It's only a bit of fun.

-How can lies be fun?
-They're not lies,

they're make believe.

You are what you are.

There's no escape,
not for you or me.

There must be some escape!

Oh, to be an under-house
parlormaid's not so terrible.

I think it'd be wonderful.

In a minute, I'll remember
you're here, Emily,

and send you to bed.

But I ought to be here, Mrs.
Bridges, as a lesson to me.

What in?

Pride going before a fall.

Murder will out.

Oh, a stitch in time saves nine.

Anything you like,
I believe you,

but please don't

-send me to bed.
-Bed!

Ah, please!

Nothing exciting ever happens.

Why can't I stay up and watch
the police take her off?

Because the police aren't
coming, Emily.

Not if Sarah chooses
to confess her faults.

You are a common, ignorant,
worthless girl, Sarah.

Can you deny it?

No.

-And a liar and a thief.
-Yes.

You are an ordinary person,
Sarah, like the rest of us.

Yes.

And you told lies
to Lady Marjorie.

You lied your way in,
where you had no right.

Yes.

And you have no French
blood in you,

let alone noble blood.

No.

And you are
lucky to have found

this home with us.

Yes.

Very well.

The police need not be called.

Thank you.

Ah, but upstairs
must be informed.

Oh, no.

With a recommendation for mercy.

Oh, coming from you, Rose,
I'm sure it'll be accepted.

Look, don't tell Lady Marjorie.

I'd be so ashamed.

Oh, she's not all bad, you
see, she's capable of remorse.

Look, take this Bible,
Sarah, and read...

Read this page.

You will find written
there, the Ten Commandments.

Now, take note of the
Sixth Commandment,

"Thou shall not steal."

Now, repeat it to yourself.

Make her write it out,
like at school.

Not a bad idea, Mrs. Bridges.

Rose, fetch the pen and paper.

She will write it out a
dozen times in her best hand,

just to suit you, Mrs. Bridges.

Oh, thank you, Rose.

There, now.

Take the pen, and write
for Mrs. Bridges,

"Thou shalt not steal".

I can't, Mr. Hudson,

-I can't.
-Go on, girl, write.

Mrs. Bridges is waiting for
proof of you reformation.

-No, please.
-And why not?

I can't write!

I don't know how.

You can't write?

Not even me own name.

Mr. Hudson.

Well, didn't they send
you to school?

I was needed at home.

Didn't your mother learn you?

I never had no mother.

I was everyone else's
mother from the age of five.

They went to school,
I stayed home.

She's very upset.

I think, perhaps, Mr. Hudson.

I daresay you're right,
Mrs. Bridges.

What?

I daresay there's no necessity
to tell them upstairs

about this unfortunate incident.

A missing chicken, a
dog, a cat, who's to say?

These things will happen,

even in the best regulated
household.

Thank you.

Now, up you go to bed,

-my girl.
-Yes, Mr. Hudson.

-Go on, I'll do that, girl.
-Oh, Rose.

I'll turn down the lamps.

Just you tidy up
a bit, will you?

Did I startle you?

No.

It's just I wasn't
expecting no one.

They've gone to bed.

Who?

The master and Lady Marjorie.

Oh.

-Let you go, have they?
-Hmm?

Bit of trouble downstairs.

Raised voices and that,
Mr. Hudson's mostly.

Oh, that, um...

We were just having a bit
of an argy-bargy down there,

all of us.

A little contretemps,
you might say.

I'll tell you something, Sarah.

They're all hypocrites,
the whole lot of 'em.

"Write out the Sixth
Commandment, 'Thou shall not
steal.'"

How do you know that?
You wasn't there.

I know everything that
goes on in this house.

You was listening
at the keyhole.

There's violence and
sin in all of us.

Filth and degradation.

Let go of my arm, Alfred.

Beware the lusts of the flesh.

Stop it.

Let me go to bed.

Kate was the same.

Who's Kate?

Under-house maid before you.

"Lust not for thy neighbour,

for the wrath of the Lord
shall be visited upon you."

It's cold.

Go to bed.

All those big empty
rooms down there

and us crammed up here together.

Well?

Who slept in this bed before me?

-A silly girl called Kate.
-What happened to her?

She isn't here anymore.

Why not?

Curiosity killed the cat.

I expect she just withered away.

We'll probably find her,

all shrivelled up in the
corner like a dead insect.

I know.

I'll ask Alfred what
happened to her.

Shall I?

He's only up top.

I could pop up there
and ask him.

You've got to be up at five.

I hope you know your list.

Yes.

But you can't.

You can't read.

Oh, I was
only saying that.

I was only making it up.

Then read to me now,

if you're not struck
dead by lightning.

I'm sorry.

I don't know what comes over me.

It must bit difficult
for you, I suppose.

I'll get up with you
in the morning

and show you what to do.

Thank you.

Now, go to sleep,

or we'll be good for
nothing in the morning.

Why are you being so good to me?

I like the house to run
properly, that's all.

And we should all help
our neighbours.

I used to dream of all
kinds of future for myself.

Never thought I'd
end up in service.

It's not so bad.

It's safe.

You know where you are and
what's gonna happen next.

The outside world is dangerous.

Or perhaps it only seems so
to us 'cause we're ignorant.

You know, if you could
read and write,

you would not be so frightened

and then, perhaps, you'd
behave yourself.

There are so many things
I wanna do and be

and time passes so quickly.

You've got to learn to accept.

Ugh.

Well, I was gonna
be married once.

Huh?

He was killed in the
war in Africa.

They gave him a medal
for being so brave.

Silly bugger.

Why did you go into
service, Rose?

Oh.

Well.

When I was a girl, on Lady
Marjorie's family estate,

a carriage used to pass
our cottage door

every Thursday on
its way to market,

and the lady and gentleman
what rode in the carriage,

well, they'd once been like
butler and housekeeper,

a big family house nearby.

Well, my mother put me
into service so, I too,

would ride in a carriage
one day.

Oh.

That was quite a sacrifice
for her.

Oh, just sometimes,

I do wish that carriage had
taken another route to market.

You're very
clever, aren't you, Rose?

Hmm.

you know.

What?

Shh.

Listen, Rose, what is it?

Oh, it's only Alfred having
one of his bad dreams.

Does it happen often?

Quite often.

He's a bit touched, see.

Oh.

But Mrs. Bridges
looks after him.

We all do, really.

You're good to him.

He's one of us.

He's not gonna murder
us in our beds, is he?

No.

I'll take care of you.

What's the matter?

I don't know.

I'm nervous, mostly.

-Shh.
-

Would you like me to
brush your hair?

Hmm?

Well, my mother used to do
it for me when I was little.

It makes you go to sleep.

All right.