All language subtitles for Renegade.Nell.S01E07.720p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DD5.1.Atmos.H.264-playWEB_eng

Sofia, I will teach you everything
I know about the arts.

- Newgate Prison knew your name.
- Why?

- You're going to die, Nelly Jackson.
- Sofia?

Rasselas! Rasselas!

- The Queen is a traitor.
- You are a Jacobite.

The rightful monarch of this country
is James Stuart.

This time tomorrow
we'll be planning the wedding.

- Or you'll be dead.
- Hm?

If the verdict is guilty,
they'll hang you immediately.

The guard will allow me
to take the Queen in hand

so James's troops can advance
without opposition.

You can end all of this, Sofia,
just by telling the truth.

Don't you know what they'd do to Thomas?

- Leave me alone!
- What about Nell?

Go back to her.

What are the news sheets saying?

- They just say...
- Nell Jackson eats babies.

The apple doesn't fall far
from the tree. People won't believe it.

This will light a fire under her.

We are gonna smash the presses up.

People need to know
that the truth matters.

♪ Another day the sun doth rise
The city stirs awake ♪

♪ But while you slept, in shadows crept,
a tale to make you quake ♪

♪ From Queen's own court
where traitors hide ♪

♪ To Newgate's empty cells ♪

♪ One name rings out from London's mouth ♪

♪ Nelly Jackson ♪

Or as I like to call her...

♪ Devil Nell ♪

Ooh!

I said all right,
all right, all right.

Listen, you'll get your news,
you'll get your news.

- All right.
- All right, all right. Take some.

- Her horn-ed head.
- And scaly skin.

- Are plain for all to see.
- Are plain for all to see.

- But "how?"
- ♪ I hear you ask my friends does a-- ♪

- Monster!
- Monster!

♪ Monster come to be? ♪

Nelly! Nelly Jackson!

♪ Pa Trotter I was a poacher ♪

♪ Is she penance for his sin? ♪

♪ They say it was the mother
who had quite a taste for gin? ♪

- Gin?
- Gin.

- Gin!
- Hyah!

♪ Two more were born ♪

♪ The Trotters had ♪

♪ A clutch of daughters three ♪

♪ But hear my take, make no mistake ♪

♪ Them apples fell close to the tree ♪

♪ That's Nell! ♪

♪ I can't believe it! ♪

♪ She's scum! ♪

♪ Devil-made, low grade, scum! ♪

Nell Jackson.

- Nell Jackson.
- Jackson, Jackson, Jackson.

- You're a disgrace here.
- Jackson.

Nell Jackson.

♪ Now beware the evil in your heart ♪

♪ Unless you want to find ♪

♪ Your children to be rotten through ♪

♪ Like Nell and all her ♪

♪ Kind ♪

No denying!

Right.

George!

What are you doing?

Traitors at court.

Trouble a foot.
Godolphin sent to the Tower.

And he will pay
for his betrayal with his life.

Godolphin was one.

There will be more Jacobites
who wish to see James on the throne.

He's a child,

and will be little more than a puppet
for whoever is behind all of this.

You believe there may be more traitors
at court?

Oh, I'm sure of it.

Then you cannot stay here.

I won't hide, Poynton.

If your suspicions are correct,

and there are men within the court
who wish you harm.

Well, I fear there will be little
I can do,

even with charge of your Bodyguard.

Oh.

Your Majesty, the people need their Queen.

Allow me to take you to a place of safety.

Yes.

Nelly.

- Nelly.
- George.

Nelly.

Oh. Fuck.

Nelly.

- This is the place?
- Yeah.

All right, let's go.

Nelly Jackson. It's Billy. Billy Blind.

What are you doing?

Uh.

What, what is this Billy?

I've been thinking.

All this smashing up the presses,
isn't it sort of playing into their hands?

- Whose hands?
- Everyone's.

You steam in there all Nelly Big Boots,

tomorrow it will be
"Three-headed Jackson storms the papers."

You've seen how this stuff spreads.

These news sheets are powerful.

They don't mind using people.

Well, maybe we should be

- using them back.
- Using them back. Yeah, but how?

Well, I was hoping you'd come up
with that.

Billy?

I should've known.

- What?
- Moggerhangar.

It's Devereux's Mrs.
This must be her place.

Oh, Lady Moggerhangar
is much more than someone's "Mrs".

She's a pioneer
of the printed word.

A maverick.

Yeah. That's one word for her.

Wow.

No, get out! Out!

- I shall have you removed by force.
- You have to believe me.

All right. All right.

- Mr. Rasselas!
- Hey.

- You been selling stories on us?
- No.

- Explains why you legged it.
- I didn't leg it. I mean I did.

But not like that. I wouldn't--
I would never sell a story on you.

On any of you.

- Polly Honeycombe. Nice--
- No, Polly.

No.

After the madness in the prison,
I lost Nell. And then...

Sofia was there.

- At Newgate?
- Yeah. Well, no. Sort of.

That dark magic? It was her.

- You what?
- Sofia.

- She was behind all of it.
- But how?

There's this posh fella, Poynton,

he's got in her head and well,
Newgate ain't the half of it.

They're going after the Queen.

What?

- We need to speak to Moggerhangar.
- You again?

If you're going to try
and sell me some tall tale

about Lord Poynton--

- It's not a tall tale.
- Rasselas heard him.

The Earl of Poynton is one of Queen Anne's
most trusted advisors.

- Not a traitor.
- I told you he wouldn't listen.

We should go to the palace
to warn someone.

You think anyone there's
more likely to believe us?

But if it's in the papers,
everyone believes them.

We don't print unsubstantiated stories.

- You don't mind printing rot about Nelly.
- Nelly?

So, you're Nelly Jackson?

Nell Jackson.

Well, you're the third Nell Jackson
I've met this morning.

Though at least she made an effort.

Now, if you'll excuse me.
I have a newspaper to edit.

What? Well, hang on.

- No, I won't hang on.
- No, but this is news.

It's a proper news.

Yes. I cannot print anything
without Lady Moggerhangar's approval.

Well, so tell her I'm here then.
Because I'd also like a word about this...

- Whoa! Get down!
- About this guff.

About my Pa being a poacher.

Who substantiated that?

Eh?

You-- You're-- You are Nell Jackson!

I did say.

- Let's not do anything hasty.
- Oh, please. Just don't hurt us.

No, no. No, I ain't gonna hurt no one.

That's the thing.
See, it's all a big misunderstanding.

You say you need Moggerhangar's sign-off?

I'm sure, I'm sure
we can make an exception.

No, we'll go through the proper channels.

That way you can tell everyone
I'm not how they think I am.

Just fetch your old Mogs for me.

- That'd be lovely.
- Mog-- Lady Moggerhangar...

is...

- Is in court.
- I can't...

George.

- Mr. Devereux has been hanged.
- No. No.

Not yet.

Uh.. Actually, uh,
we prepare for both outcomes.

Should we help him, Nelly?

We'll wait here for Moggerhangar.

She'll have greased enough palms
to get him off. Just you see.

Fine.

Hm.

To ward off disease.

One can't be too careful
when it comes to people.

As usual,
the victims will represent themselves.

As there are so many in this case,

I understand there
is a nominated spokesperson.

Mrs. Miller?

- You speak for the prosecution?
- Yes. Your Grace.

My Grace.

Sir!

Right?

Sir George Horner.

You have been engaged as legal counsel
for the defendant?

Yes, my Lord.

Very well.

The jury must now decide.

Guilt or innocence.

Let us proceed.

Sir, could I ask you
to clarify for us your name?

Charles Devereux.

- Of 32 Hanover Square?
- Indeed.

Do you go by any other names?

I once had a sweetheart
who insisted on calling me "pooky".

Your guess is as good as mine.

So, you have never used
the name Isambard Tulley?

No. For that is not my name.

Though like everybody else,
I have heard of the fellow.

So how then, does a respectable gentleman
such as yourself, Mr. Devereux,

come to be accused of being

one of London's most notorious
highway robbers?

It's Nell Jackson's fault.

- The murderess, Nell Jackson?
- The very one.

You see, I was on my way home to Mayfair.

I'd been visiting friends

and had enjoyed
a little too much frivolity.

So, I was just nodding off

when a curious smell roused me
from my slumber.

What sort of smell?

It was sickening.
Like old meat and cabbage.

Suddenly my carriage screams to a halt.

There is a face at the window.

A hideous woman
is pointing a gun at my head.

She bares her fanged teeth
as if to devour me there and then.

So imagine my surprise

when she orders me
to play the part of her husband.

Mercifully, I escaped her clutches.

And it's only after she turns over
Newgate to get me back that I understand.

She is obsessed with me.

But I shun her offer of riches and gold,
in order that I might clear my name.

For I am no highway robber.

But Charles Devereux.

A gentleman,

and a victim of the very crime
of which I stand accused.

Thank you, my Lord. No further questions.

Yes?

- Lady Wilmot.
- I'm sorry for arriving unannounced.

No, please.

After you left for London,

Rasselas, the stable boy came back
to Broadwater Hall last night.

- He'd been with Nell Jackson.
- Did he tell you where she is?

No. He's utterly loyal to her
and will return to her side.

But...

I took this.

It's his blood.
We can use your pentagram to find them.

You will have the chance to exercise
your powers again very soon.

This morning, the Queen made me captain
of her Bodyguard.

She is to take up residence
at Broadwater Hall.

- When?
- Any day now.

My associates
will assemble here today

to finalize the plans.

When can we expect them?

You have told them of my involvement?

While I share many opinions
with these men,

I'm sorry to say that a woman
holding powers such as yours

is likely to have them quite shook.

We are changing the course of history,
Lady Wilmot.

You are destined for great things

Far greater
than this feud with Nell Jackson.

- That lying, sour-faced...
- Scamp?

Well, I mean I knew
she was a piece of work.

I did. But, I mean,
Newgate takes the mick.

I mean, what did we ever do
besides pay rent to line their pockets

so that she
and that wretched brother of hers

can go sit up in that big, horrible house
cooking up witchery-pokery with this...

- Poynton.
- Is it?

And I'm the one accused
of being a monster.

Hey. Do you suppose it was Poynton
that sent Herne?

Seems likely.

And if he can rustle up that brute,

it don't bear thinking about him
leading charge of an army.

Poynton's bringing war here, Billy.

And it won't be the toffs spilling
their guts out on the battlefield.

No, no, no.

The ones who will really suffer

is exactly the ones
who will have no say in the matter.

Yeah, people like us.

It won't get to that.

Moggerhangar will print the story.

We'll see to it
everyone knows the truth about them.

Yeah? Well, we better had...

for all our sakes.

Hope you're feeling lucky, Nelly.

I don't need luck.

I got you.

Mr. Devereux,
do you recognize me?

- I'm afraid not. Should I?
- You should.

Because last July,

you held up a full hackney carriage
on the Exeter Road.

You took from me eight shillings,
a silver ring,

and a fruit cake I'd made for my sister.

I'm afraid you are mistaken, madam.

You see, fruit cake provokes
in me most unpleasant effects.

A swelling in the throat, angry pustules.

- Should we test that?
- No.

Right.

You live in Mayfair?

It was my father's house.
I inherited it when he died.

- And you live alone?
- I have tenants.

- What about a job?
- I am a landlord. Hence the tenants.

And you are saying your name
is Charles Devereux?

I think that has been established.

Devereux.

Devereux. Is that French?

Yes. My grandfather was French.

You speak the language?

Yes. My grandfather was a Frenchman.
A most esteemed member of court.

- Well, this is just wonderful.
- Do you have a point, Mrs. Miller?

Oh, yes.

Do you know what a Jacobite is, sir?

Of course.

Silly question.

What with recent events, though,
perhaps the news didn't reach Newgate.

Let me get you up to speed.

Yesterday, the Earl of Godolphin
was sent to the Tower

for plotting with the French
to overthrow our Queen.

But he wasn't working alone, was he?

I put it to this court that you,

Mr. Devereux,
are a key figure in this plot.

- What?
- In fact.

I suggest you should be tried
not just for highway robbery,

but for treason.

This is preposterous.

A mysterious gentleman type.

No family.

Your tenants, for I took
the liberty of speaking with them,

say weeks can pass
without any sign of you.

Where'd you go, Mr. Devereux?

I visit friends.

- Friends in France?
- No!

I've never even been to France.

I'm no Jacobite toff.
My father was a shoemaker.

A shoemaker with a house in Mayfair?

He. I...

A French aristocrat or a cobbler's son?
Which are you, Mr. Devereux?

I mean, can we believe a word
that comes out from your mouth?

Eularia. Please.
There must be something you can do.

It's been fun, Charles.

Go!

We'll see who stands where.

- Well...
- Examine that.

What do you think?

Thomas.

- Kidnapped?
- Yeah. By players.

Me and Nell had to rescue them.
That's how we met Polly.

You have been busy.

I thought when Nell came back without you,
we might not see you again.

That you might not wanna see me again.

But I asked you to be my sweetheart.

Well, I asked Nell.
Did she not mention?

- No sign of the poisonous old mudslinger?
- How could you?

- All right. She's not old.
- How could you not tell me?

About our chat in the coffee house.

I didn't not tell you.

- I just didn't tell you.
- I'm glad we cleared that up.

He left us for dust.

I thought he'd had a change of heart.

Or died.

- Or fallen down a--
- Well, well, well.

- Nelly Jackson, as I live and breathe.
- Ah-ha!

I knew she was the real deal
the first time I set eyes--

So, you're here to make some quick cash
selling your putrid little story?

- We're not selling anything.
- We do have a story, though.

We want you to print it.

And promise that you'll stop
writing lies about Nell.

- Or anyone.
- Oh, God, how predictably worthy.

"Nell Jackson's eyes do not burn
like the fires of hell,

as previously reported.

They are like stars

casting their celestial light
to guide lost souls."

What is this?

- Just some ideas.
- Bold imagery.

But the voice is certainly engaging.

So, you'll print it then?

Of course,
I won't print it.

But you have to,
you have to retract the fibs

you've been printing about Nell.

Well, let me tell you something,
young lady.

However elegantly written,
retractions won't sell papers.

Yeah, but lies will.

Yes.
I print what people want.

- Nell.
- People want the truth.

Oh, a moral lecture from a highway robber.

You are a disgusting hypocrite,
Nell Jackson.

And I will use every last drop of ink,
making sure the whole world knows it.

Proper channels my hat.

Print this story,

or I'm gonna put so many holes
in these presses,

you will be grating cheese on them
and I'll be on my merry way.

Bring forth no light
to the flames but a clear cap.

Bring forth no light
to the flames but a clear cap.

Bring forth no light
to the flames but a clear cap.

Bring forth no light
to the flames but a clear cap.

Bring forth no light
to the flames but a clear cap.

- You wouldn't dare.
- You don't know me.

Be careful, George.

"You're not going anywhere, Nell Jackson."

What?

I said...

George, come over here.

You are not going...

Anywhere.

It's Sofia. It has to be.

Get that lot out of here.

I know you're there.

Sofia, this isn't you.

Ras!

Murderous. Thieving. Louse.

A nobody who killed my father!

Oh, no.

Oh.

Do something, Nelly. Fight back!

- I can't. She's a lady.
- So are you!

But it's not her doing it. Not really.

No!

Do you think you're protecting
your brother?

He would never do the same for you.

- Liar!
- Liar!

She killed him.
She shot him!

She murdered my father!

Murder!

Unnatural creature.

The same fiend

that murdered that poor fellow
in Tottenham.

"Magistrate murdered
by Nelly Jackson."

- You're evil!
- Your father was caught

poaching.

Don't listen, Nell.

It's all lies!

She eats babies!

She is so hideous
to behold

that merely looking into her eyes...

She's despicable!

- She's such a...
- Murder!

...is said to be you're evil.

Unnatural creature.

You need to hear the truth,
Nelly!

♪ Everyone is saying
stuff about our Nell ♪

♪ Like how she killed Lord Blancheford
and how she sort of smells ♪

What are you doing, George? Get down!

♪ But Nelly ain't a murderer
Sofia Wilmot's mean ♪

♪ That stinking Thomas shot their Pa
and now they want our Queen ♪

George!

♪ With this Jacobite toff Poynton
They're cooking up a war ♪

♪ So don't blame Nell
She's brave and true ♪

- ♪ And we won't run no more ♪
- You're evil!

And murdered Lord Blancheford!

Why not where we planned before?

That would be simplistic.

- Everyone's invited?
- Excellent.

They're all ready.

Lord Umberland
will be very valuable to our efforts.

We shall have to
let the men of Scotland know

as soon as possible.

Harley's boy
is the most trustworthy.

I will send word.

- She knows.
- Good Lord.

Nell Jackson.
She knows about the invasion.

She can't.

Rasselas must have...
He's told her. Everything.

They're in a newspaper office.

Poynton. What's going on? Who is this wo--

I am talking.

We must act immediately

if we're going
to have any chance of success.

Steady on.

Even if Jackson knows, she's a peasant,

a criminal,
she's hardly going to be believed.

You underestimate her.

It'll take days to get the troops here
from France.

- We need time.
- There is no time.

We take the Queen tomorrow.

Lady Moggerhangar, you must--

- What happened?
- Uh, uh, I...

I was overcome.

I was manipulated. I was used.

Who did this? I'll end them.

It was Sofia Wilmot.
Her and her brother Thomas framed Nell.

And the rest, it's like George said.

Poynton and Sofia.

Here we go again.

What? You knew about this?

Hm.

It's all true.

Thought you wasn't
in the business of truth.

I am in the business of stories.

And the best stories are most often
the ones delivered by real life.

Speaking of which, Devereux's trial.

Oh, you got him off.

But, didn't you?

Not exactly.

Isambard Tulley,

you have been found guilty of all charges
and will hang for your crimes.

Nell!

You came for me.

- What?
- Stop him!

Guards!

Stop him! Stop him!

He got away?

Let's get those presses repaired.
You, in here.

What? Oh, take this.

Do you mind? Thanks.

We have a position for a new editor.

We-we do?

Oh.

Fine.

Goodbye. Uh...

- Thank you.
- Bye now.

I'll leave that.

On your way.

But you'll have to prove yourself though.

The hours are long.
Three shillings monthly.

You'd pay me? To write?

Oh, go on then. If you want the job.

And what does it say?

- I, I think she means the note.
- Oh.

"Queen Anne is to relocate
to Broadwater Hall tomorrow

under the instruction
of the Earl of Poynton."

Oh, good, God.

You'll print the story, wouldn't you?

- And then everyone will know.
- There's no time.

Whatever they have planned,
it's happening now.

What are we gonna do, Nelly?

We're gonna stop them.