Original subtitles

Our tale begins in the year of our Lord 1831.

When the Bethany Rose wrecked off Bingles Beck beach

in the small hamlet of Hunderby.

91 souls were lost that night.

Our heroine was a stowaway, carried to shore by another survivor.

A noble blackamoor - Geoff.

Filthy beast! Trying to eat a dead girl.

He's stealing her locket!

Fellows of such a hue were not common in Hunderby

and thinking her dead, Geoff fled.

Taking her locket with him.

Our heroine would indeed have perished had it not

been for the arrival of Doctor Foggerty.

A sturdy man, just shy of his middle years. Dear God!

Is there no-one left alive?

Foggerty, on swift hands, rushed to her side.

Gathered her up...

And deftly...

Did he blow the lass to life.

How different might our tale have been had the widowed pastor

not appeared. Make way, this is God's work.

Please, sir, I am the physician.

In the name of our Lord Christ Jesus.

Let this wretched soul be saved.

Oh well.

Edmund's wife Arabelle had passed suddenly, but a year before.

And many a haggard fisher wife was eager to warm

the dent in the widower's bed.

But twas this young woman.

Presumed from the ship's log to be

the plain-spinster missionary Helene Blown,

that snared his weeping eye.

Dearest Helene, I've much enjoyed your company of late.

Though I know little of your history and it seems neither do you...

I take much comfort from your simplicity.

Both of looks and character.

I am a pastor... Oh I know, sir. I had not finished.

I am a pastor, and it is usual that a pastor has someone at his side

to tend to his needs, and those of the community.

In short, Helene,

a wife.

Edmund's kind and jocund ways led her to expect a marriage benign.

A most welcomed contrast to the shadowy past that led her

to stow away upon the Bethany Rose.

I am most blessed to find you, at my time of life.

Though youth has all but spread his wings and fled you,

I do wonder, through your more dewy years

at the men that did not take you.

Perhaps I did not love them, as I do you, sir.

Them? Helene.

Forgive me, but...

You are untouched?

As Deuteronomy tells us,

I would be forced to stone to death with my own Christian hand

any wife of mine who'd e'er lain with another.

Yes.

Helene,

I've noted on your cheek

a kind of growth. Oh my mole!

You might see fit to cover it for our special day.

The ship did sink, but her past would not.

And on the eve of her wedding, Helene was plagued by memories.

Elizabeth...

Helene felt her heart would burst if she did not tell Edmund her tale.

So that very night she crept into Hunderby

and slipped a confession beneath the slumbering widower's door.

In a hope that he would forgive her.

Yet as is the way with so many a marriage,

the pair were to be joined till death.

Neither one truly knowing the other.

For the letter remained unnoticed.

Unread.

What is it my love?

You, you still love me?

Still love you, dove?

As I am?

You are as you are, Helene.

Oh Edmund.

Thank you for your grace.

But... where are the congregation?

They prefer to go to the hanging.

Dear God!

We've all rallied round baking him bird pies

and nursing him through his griefs and sad old past.

And he chooses to hook-up with the first dumpy old biscuit

spewed up by the sea.

Biddy.

Master Edmund, I was just saying how pretty Miss Helene was looking.

Well, it is the most flattering light upon you also,

Biddy Ritherfoot.

You almost have a look of Moses, in his latter years.

You must miss your DEAD wife.

Each hour without Arabelle is an agony,

but perfect souls cannot tarry long upon this earthly plane.

And though our time was brief I shall always relish that...

Precious snatch.

Congratulations, Father Edmund.

Oh thank you, Crippled Hester. I did not see you down there.

Oh Brother Joseph!

You are returned.

I do hope the call of the savage will not take you from us

again too soon.

Fiji ever beckons, Brother Edmund.

Would that you might join me there next time,

put some Christian spine into those flat-nose heathens.

Hunderby needs me. I have here a small wedding gift. Gift!

No need, brother.

There is no greater gift than the love of the Lord.

From Fiji.

Oh!

A bird of paradise.

Nay, brother, it is a silktail.

I found it in my bed one night and though I placed it outside,

by morn he had returned,

and once again deposited himself upon my pillow.

His face pressed to mine like a wife.

I shall cherish him and call him... I shall call him Raymond.

It was my late father's name.

What a comely lad.

How's Ruth?

Not well. Oh.

Congratulations, Mistress Suffolk-Finch.

Mistress Suffolk-Finch?

Oh. Sorry.

The name sounds so strange.

I see that old father Sun does shine for you this day.

How did you persuade him to cast-off his cloudy coat?

I did command Brother Breeze to go to him to say it was my windy wish.

Oh.

Sir? Have we met before?

- On Bingles Beck beach. 'Twas... - Come my bride.

I'm sure Doctor Foggerty has little time for such idle prattle.

We must away, the dancers have dwindled

and the hams are ravaged.

Where's mother?

Mistress Mathilde is still abed, sir.

She complained of vipers lashing her insides.

Her bowel has still not spoken, sir.

Oh dear.

Though I fancy I caught a whisper. Oh.

Your hair looks well, Dorothy. Thank you, sir.

I had it rearranged for this special day.

Though I was not invited.

Very cumulonimbus.

Is it based on a cloud? No, sir.

It looks very pretty.

Oh. Ow!

Sorry. Thank you.

I must fresh myself.

Edmund!

Just checking that all is to Madam's satisfaction.

Yes, thank you, Dorothy, everything is quite wonderful.

And the room, ma'am?

I thought a milky pigeon would suit.

Yes, thank you.

Mistress Suffolk-Finch's room was the most beautiful in the house.

Sunset gold that seemed to glow as she did.

'Tis not now used, of course. No.

Perhaps Mistress Suffolk-Finch would like to approve the menu?

But she's dead.

Oh, yes.

Yes, it looks lovely.

Thrush buns in a thick dark gravy.

Mistress Arabelle liked her gravy.

Very thick.

And this is Edmund's mother's room.

It looks lovely.

'Tis only a door.

I cannot wait to... Hush!

She slumbers.

Inconsolable since Arabelle's death.

We never go in here ma'am.

It leads to the bell tower and the stairs are quite rotten.

So it is kept locked at all times.

What is that noise?

Noise?

'Tis most likely owls ma'am. Oh.

They do defecate through their mouths.

What interesting breasts you have, Helene.

Thank you, sir.

I suspect Arabelle's were larger.

They were considerable.

You...

You are...

Much darker down there than perhaps I had imagined.

Do I not please you, sir?

Nay, nay, nay, 'tis just...

Arabelle was...

Smooth as ham.

Nature did not busy her broken mound with such a...

Black and forceful brush.

My mother, they say, was raven-haired and tawny-skinned.

And her nose? Oh, oh proud nostrils.

Flared like a lion's.

Not a Zulu.

Oh, no! No, heavens no, no!

At least...

If truth be told...

I never knew her.

Oh, Edmund! How I wish I knew her!

Helene!

You've soaked my bridal jerkin!

Oh, surely you know velvet cannot abide moisture!

Oh, forgive me!

Oh, I did not know you were so weak.

Arabelle was so strong.

Describe her to me, Edmund. Arabelle?

She was perhaps the most beautiful creature I ever saw.

Other than Bird Raymond.

Oh! This is my special day, it shall not be ruined. Come, dove.

Dorothy will shave you.

Your nighty-dress.

How charming.

Thank you. I...

I believe Dorothy laid it for me.

It was Arabelle's.

She wore it when first I burst her.

Come, bride, that is a quarter after ten.

We shall intercourse until the 30 after.

There may be a sharp searing pain throughout.

Oh... Oh.

Yes, um...

If you would just... Oh... OK.

That's it.

Oh...

Ed... Edmund...

Yeah. What?

It...

It is not in.

Yes.

Bubbly milk, sir?

Please.

That shall be your duty from now on.

Would sir at least wish me to take the... soiled wedding linens?

That will not be necessary.

I've seen a ghost.

Two-headed Tony's seen two ghosts.

They can't all be her.

Poor Arabelle.

I'll never understand how she went so quick.

One day she's eating broiled udders, the next, her funeral.

I heard 'twas cos her face was half-eaten by herpes. No.

They say she choked on her own tongue.

Mind you don't choke on my tongue!

Sorry, ma'am.

Um, would sir like his bubbly milk?

Yes, please.

Without wishing to be bold,

mistress looked very beautiful on her wedding day.

Like a proper princess.

Yes, I heard Arabelle was quite a beauty.

Arabelle? No, I meant you, mistress.

Oh...

Thank you, Annie.

That's very kind.

There you are, ma'am.

Ooh,

it's got a good creamy head on it.

Let's get it up there ere it flops. Thank you.

Oh!

Master Edmund does not wish to be disturbed any further.

His spine is quite aflame from all the activity.

Thank you, Dorothy, but I would pass.

Do you wish to burn down our home walking about with a naked flame?

No.

No, I only wish to give my husband his bubbly milk.

Helene?

Helene!

What in blazes are you doing?

Er... nothing, nothing sir. One moment...

Snuffling around like some rabid bloodhound.

Why do you screw your fist so?

Oh um...

I...I... have a pain.

Most likely trapped winds.

I would ask that you do not purge yourself of such gases

in front of Bird Raymond.

Yes, sir.

Helene?

Helene, where's my bubbly milk?

Oh, look! What? 'Tis a day for weddings, Tom!

There's something written on it.

What's it say?

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