All language subtitles for Upstairs Downstairs S01E01 On Trial.DVDRip.NonHI.en.ACORN

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Well?

Uh, Mrs. Pratt's Agency sent me.

Well?

I've come about the position.

House parlor maid, was it?

Under-house parlor maid.

I am the house parlor maid.

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.

Ooh!

Oh, my finger!

Oh, it's half coming off.

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

Oh, I daren't look.

If you've got blood on
them potatoes, my girl,

you can throw them away
and start all over again.

- Mrs. Bridges, look.
- And get a move on, girl.

Who are you when you're at home?

Where's Alfred?

He's taken my buttonhooks
again. I know he has.

Well, what am I going to 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 an agency.

What have you done
with my buttonhooks?

- Oh!
- Alfred!

Get out from under
my feet, the pair of you!

Somebody answer that bell!

Alfred!

Cat got your tongue, has
it? Well, be off with you.

No. I'm just about to explain.

Blood everywhere!

Nobody cares.

My name is Clémence.

Clémence. I've come
about the position.

Clémence?

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.

French! Huh.

We don't want no
foreign muck in here.

None of your nasty haute
cuisine, thank you very much.

Greasy mutton again,
then, Mrs. Bridges?

Oh!

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

- Get back to your
stables - Oh, Mrs...

And be off with you!

Oh!

The milk's caught!

Now see what you've
made me do. Oh!

This place will be
the death of me.

What's wrong with mutton anyway?

- I'll bleed to death.
- Good.

Oh, look, hasn't anyone
seen my buttonhooks?

All 12 have 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.

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.

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.

Mm. Yes, Hudson. Ask
her to come in, will you?

"To whom it may
concern, the bearer..."

"the bearer of this letter

is well recommended
for domestic..."

Mm-hmm.

What is your name?

Clémence Dumas.

And you are French?

Half French.

You must call me "my
lady" when you reply.

Oh. I'm sorry, my lady.

This letter appears
to be from someone

whose name I cannot read,

who lives at the Château
Lac du Chant near Lyon.

I haven't heard of it.

No, neither had I,
my lady, 'til I got there.

Why did you leave your
previous employment?

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

- I hope she's better now.
- Oh, 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?

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.

Two shakes of a
lamb's tail, Mr. Hudson.

I've had trouble
with 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.

Clémence 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 servants' 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 Clémence.

Clémence 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 learnt 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 endeavors

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 favor in His eyes

and sit in honor at His table.

Amen.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Sarah is joining us

as under-house parlor
maid, 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.

And 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.

C-Couldn't I be called
Clémence, if only down here?

In all my years,

I've never heard of
such a name belowstairs.

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.

Clémence.

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.
- And were you in service there?

No. I lived in a château.

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.
- Didn't say you did.

Bet she just exaggerates.

If her 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
Gypsies 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.

Uh, 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 parlor maid.

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 a 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, and 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.

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.

"Our Sarah."

Say something in French. Go on.

If you can.

Hmm. Very nice.

♪ Auprès de ma blonde ♪

♪ Qu'il fait bon,
fait bon, fait bon ♪

♪ Auprès de ma blonde ♪

♪ Qu'il fait bon dormir ♪

Come on! Get up!

- It's half past 5:00!
- Aah!

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 5:00.

It's better once you're up.

Oh.

Well, come on. You'll be late.

I trust you can
remember your duties.

When you're dressed
and ready, what then?

Uh, I must make sure

that Emily's got the
range working properly

so that Mrs... oh...
Bridges can get on.

Then lay up breakfast
in the servants' hall.

Then there's Lady
Marjorie's tray.

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.

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've 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
is 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.

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

because 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.

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.

Mm. Well, work soon warms you.

Oh, Mrs. Bridges will kill me.

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

Oh. Oh, get the fire
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 you, 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 calling 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,

'til you'll 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.

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
parlor maid, sir.

I see.

Sir.

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

But why change?

Mornings, we're housemaids.

Afternoons, we're
parlor maids, 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,

'til 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'll 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, my lady.

Yes, isn't it, Hudson?

Your tea, my lady.

Thank you, Rose.

Mrs. Bridges thought you
might be a bit hungry, my lady.

Rose, how do you
find the new girl?

Quite satisfactory, my lady.

I hope you're looking after her.

Of course, my lady.

Will that be all, my lady?

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, my lady.

It's very old and very delicate.

Otherwise, of course, I
would've undertaken it myself.

She has delicate fingers
and nice, neat movements.

Yes, my lady. Will
that be all, my lady?

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

Very good, my lady.

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

and no one to shout
at 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?
- Yes?

I thought you were
supposed to be sewing

Lady Marjorie's cushion.

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

You might at 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. Oh.

That's beautifully done.

Thank you, my lady.

Where did you
learn to sew like that?

- Uh, 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, my lady.

- 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, my lady.
- 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...

And he's about to
use it and should not.

Dear me.

Does it mean something
to you, my lady?

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, my lady.

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, my lady. I...

Now, 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-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 8:00.

Emily!

Yes, Mr. Hudson?

More coke in the boiler at once.

The bath water's
not properly hot yet.

Everything at the last minute.

Put 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 8:00. 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.

You have to ask him,
or you'll 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 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's more
tragic and more romantic

than anything in a book.

I would lay down my
life for her if I 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.

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?

Uh, I want to wait
up 'til they come back.

- There won't be anything to see.
- There might be.

They... 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 cannot.

I was just going to fetch
some bread and cheese.

Would 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?

Well, she's not in the
kitchen. 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 pox. A chicken stealer.

And 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.

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.

Oh, 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 harness, 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 f she comes back.
- I swear.

It would be better for
everyone if she didn't.

Well.

Sarah, I never told them.

Sarah, come in here.

But I never said a word.

- Shut the door.
- Liar.

Hypocrite. Slut.

Walking the streets at night.

Rose, that's enough of that.

You too, Emily.

We have reason to believe
that you have stolen a chicken

from Mrs. Bridges'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.

You'll have nothing, my dear?

No, thank you.

Strange to see Archie Hasleff
across a 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 will say,

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

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

Goes too quickly, becomes
not progress but disintegration.

Spoken like a good Englishwoman.

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.

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.

He knew the value of
firmness and resolution.

And you are your
father's daughter.

I hope so.

Well, don't bother
your pretty head.

- These are men's 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 ring.

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.

- Mm?
- There'd 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
that you were as good as her.

No, 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!

Well, to be an under-house
parlor maid is not so terrible.

I think it would 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. Uh, 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!
- Oh, 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.

- But upstairs must be informed.
- Oh, no.

With a recommendation for mercy.

Well, coming from you, Rose,
I'm sure it will 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 shalt 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-I can't, Mr. Hudson. I can't.

Go on, girl. Write.

Mrs. Bridges is waiting for
proof of your reformation.

No. Please.

And why not?

It's just...

I can't write!

I don't know how.

You can't write?

Not even me own name.

Mr. Hudson.

What, 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
mum from the age of 5.

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 heard
Mr. Hudson's mostly.

Oh, that. Uh...

We were just having
a bit of an argy-bargy

down there, all of us.

Little contretemps,
you might say.

Tell you something, Sarah.

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

Write out the sixth
commandment...

Thou shalt 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-housemaid before you.

Lust not for thy neighbor,

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

It's cold. Go to bed.

Nice 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.

I'll probably find her

all shriveled 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 5:00.
I hope you know your list.

Yes.

But you can't.

You can't read.

- Oh, I was only saying that.
- Oh!

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 be 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 neighbors.

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

I never thought I'd
end up in service.

It's not so bad. It's safe.

You know where you are and
what's going to 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'd not be so frightened,

and then perhaps
you'd behave yourself.

But there are so many
things I want to do and be.

And time passes so quickly.

You've got to learn to accept.

Well, I was going
to be married once.

Hmm?

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,

big family house nearby.

Well, my mother
put me into service

so I, too, would ride
in a carriage one day.

That was quite
a sacrifice of her.

Oh, just sometimes, I
do wish that carriage

had taken another
route to market.

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

Mm.

But you've got
more... Well, 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.

Mrs. Bridges looks after him.

Well, we all do, really.

You're good to him.
- He's one of us.

He's not... he's not

going to 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, miss.

Would you like me
to brush your hair?

Mm?

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

It makes you go to sleep.

All right.

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