Original subtitles

FRED NARRATING: Lizzie is being paid a small fortune by Ruskin the rogue,

in addition to him paying for any painting she completes,

which so far, is precisely none.

GABRIEL: Keep the change, keep all of it.

WAITER: Thank you very much, sir.

[CLAPPING AND CHEERING]

FRED: Lizzie dresses like a Queen,

and even Gabriel is such a swell as I never thought possible.

We all trail in their wake, though some more happily than others.

And me? Better off than I've ever been,

but living beyond my means to keep up with the brotherhood.

I would cut myself loose from their moorings,

but the only stories I can sell are about their celebrated lives.

[CHEERING]

FRED: And nobody is more dazzled by money than revolutionaries.

They spent money when they did not have it,

so now that they have it, they spend it even more.

GABRIEL: I'm not telling. Because you are embarrassed.

I know you are asking in order to be outraged at the answer.

Come on, why would Johnny be outraged?

What is the most he ever spent on a dress for you or himself?

What does it really matter, anyway?

It cost three pounds. There! Lizzie's dress cost three pounds!

Now can we shut up about it!

It is beautiful.

-WILLIAM: Three pounds for a dress? -GABRIEL: We're a Brotherhood!

I thought we were meant to delight in each other's good fortune.

Yes, but we are all alone in the end though?

You will be with conversation like that.

[LAUGHTER]

WILLIAM: Gabriel, I am sorry. I only wish I could share in your good fortune.

It's just I miss Annie. I miss her so much.

How about this young lady?

She looks ripe enough to shake you out of your torpor.

No, I mean to embrace celibacy.

From this day forth.

You need to embrace something and it's not celibacy.

I'm in earnest. Listen.

You must marry Lizzie, without delay.

I mean, you must be able to afford it now.

Do you know who that is over there?

WILLIAM: I'm giving you the best advice I can.

As a man who has been led hopelessly astray by his own lust,

I do not wish the same fate to befall you!

Do you make a habit of spitting?

Depends what I've got in my mouth at the time, sir.

-Have you listened to a word I've just said? -Yes.

I should not become distracted by lust...

[HE SNORES]

Gabriel.

Gabriel!

Let me take a piss first and then I'll satisfy you,

-you cock-hungry Jezebel. -Gabriel!

What?

I want you to tell me honestly.

How much work have you done to the mural

that has been commissioned on my recommendation?

The mural?

It's still very much at the planning stage.

And yet if I was to ask you to return the advance?

Spent, I'm afraid.

Perhaps we have been a little excessive in our carousing of late...

RUSKIN: You've been spotted at Cremorne Gardens reeling from laudanum

every evening for the last two months.

Sorry, Mr Ruskin. This will not go on.

I'm beginning to think that I have made a mistake

in supporting you both in this way.

John! Blame me, not Lizzie.

I am quite the fool when it comes to running round town like a swell.

I do blame you, Gabriel. I do.

RUSKIN: I want to see the mural as completed by the end of the month. Understood?

End of the month. Certainly. And Lizzie?

Miss Siddal must set up her studio under my roof

where she will not be so tempted and led astray

by the world and all that it has to offer.

-Your house? -I shall expect you to work there each day

between nine and eight and then return home to your parents' house

at the end of each working day, too exhausted to indulge

your new-found passion for promenading and gin.

This is how Ruskin began with Effie. No questioning. Blind obedience.

It's all your fault, Fred. You and your Talk And Tablecolumn!

I thought you liked having your name in the papers!

-I think you took unfair advantage of my shallow nature. -She must do it.

You make an enemy of Ruskin and your career will suffer.

-Look at me! -GABRIEL: Oh, yes. Your poverty is legendary!

WILLIAM: Tell me those two strange creatures over there

are looking at you else I shall be compelled to rip their heads off.

Yes, they're students from my evening class.

The fat one is William something or other and the thin one is Ned,

I can't remember what. They are harmless.

They adore me.

God knows I need it.

You have the love of a woman. That is the most valuable thing of all.

You're selling paintings, Maniac. Johnny Boy is selling paintings.

You're both famous for being artists.

I'm famous for being the friend of artists.

It's like being Fred or something.

-No offence... -None taken.

Then take my advice. Leave the debauchery behind.

Concentrate only on the work.

That is entirely my intention. My code.

My manifesto.

[HE SNORES]

[DOOR SLAMS]

What are you doing?

Getting my things together so I can go to Ruskin.

-What's the rush? -LIZZIE: You heard him, Gabriel.

He has given me one last chance. I intend to take it.

You're seriously going to report to Ruskin every day?

And perhaps he is right,

I should spend every night at my parents' house... for now, at least.

You're letting him control you!

He is John Ruskin.

I am a novice painter.

I think for what he's paying me, he should be able to control me.

And my feelings about this?

You want me to be an artist.

Ruskin has granted that wish.

I love you.

But I have to do this. You do see that?

Of course.

No, absolutely.

LIZZIE: And Gabriel, get on with the mural. We both need Ruskin.

[CHURCH BELLS CHIME]

This was formerly my studio.

RUSKIN: I haven't completed a painting since my portrait of John Millais.

It's well-equipped, but...

..you must ask if you need anything else.

Work as much as possible in colour.

I do not care if they are separate drawings or illuminations,

but always try to sketch in colour rather than pencil only.

Watercolour, of course.

And what you do, you must show me,

whether you think it good or bad, or nothing, or something.

-I see. -Until Gabriel comes to his senses and marries you,

you shall be under my protection and care.

Gabriel cares for me far more than you realise.

And I will be happy to buy your work as and when you produce it.

But you must not think that you have to be marvellously productive.

I want to see that you are looked after and settled.

And healthy.

[LAUGHTER AND CHEERING]

Come for a dance?

All right, you'll do, you'll do.

May I have the next dance?

I am afraid the lady is occupied.

If she was occupied, Mr Dickens, she'd either be waltzing or copulating.

Now, unless there is a dwarf under her skirts,

then she is doing neither.

-You missed out 'flating. -Ahh.

-God's sake! I have company! -You will always have company.

But an opportunity like me will not happen every day.

[SHE SCREAMS REPEATEDLY]

-Are you an artist? -I am.

Yeah. You fuck like an artist.

Is that a good thing?

Would you do me the honour of sitting for me?

Me? In a painting?

[SHE CHUCKLES]

I've got too much meat on my bones.

You like 'em skinny like boys, don't you?

I feel deep in my soul that I may be about to change my style.

[HE SIGHS]

[HE SCREAMS AND GRUNTS]

Come on!

-Dante. Dante. -Dante.

Dante.

Dante. Dante.

Dante.

Good God! What are you doing?

What do you want! You'll have to forgive us.

We are rather impulsive.

Just tell me what you want.

-Your guidance. Your advice. -Advice!

Never, never...

go out in matching purple.

William has written some poems he would like you to read.

-Poems? -They are the first I have ever written.

So I just need your help to get them published in a...

pages, covers, binding... book!

A big book, because there are a lot of them.

"To be saved from the wind, the merciless wind.

"That moaneth through it always..."

[BOTH MOANING]

I am going to paint you.

I'll pay you to model and in such a way...

Yeah, pretend you aren't paying me for these and this.

I've been painting something called Foundfor some time.

It is about a fallen woman.

Like Awakening Conscience? That 'unt painting?

Actually, Hunt saw Found and copied it.

He's a good painter, though, ain't he? That 'unt.

GABRIEL: Does the idea appeal or not?

I'll do any job you pay me for.

But thanks for asking,

no man ever asked if I minded before.

No, wait. Stop!

-I've had an idea! -Oh, yeah. I can feel your idea.

No, no. No, wait.

The world doesn't need another fallen woman painting.

I am going to paint a celebration of your sensuality.

I am going to call it...

Bocca Baciata...

that's Italian for "the kissed mouth".

Well, I won't argue with that!

What's Italian for "hourly rate"?

Oh, my God! What time is it?

I have to be somewhere!

Oh, time passes so quickly with you!

[SHE SNICKERS]

Don't leave without some of my own special ivory bone dust, Miss Siddal.

-Bone dust? -An excellent restorative.

It will address your weakness.

What weakness would that be?

-When do you think you can travel to Oxford, Lizzie? -Oxford?

To stay with my friends the Aclands.

He's a medical man, and an excellent fellow on such matters.

John tells me you have a surfeit of nervous energy, Miss Siddal.

That may be so, but I hardly think it requires medical attention.

RUSKIN: She has pride, does she not, Mother?

Indeed, I would go as far as to say

that she might have been born a Countess.

The plain hard fact is that I think you have genius,

and I don't think there is much genius in the world,

and I want to keep what there is in it.

So sorry I'm late!

And there may be goodish intervals when you cannot work

and may need my financial assistance.

I've been writing a poem!

It's a celebration on this very subject, actually. Prostitution!

RUSKIN: I hardly think Lizzie's position is of moral equivalent to prostitution, Gabriel.

A comparison made in very poor taste, Mr Rossetti,

even by your queasy standards.

Only if you consider prostitution to be morally wrong, Mrs Ruskin.

Gabriel. Come now.

What is a prostitute?

A woman who has made a choice.

What does a seamstress get paid, Lizzie?

I don't know. I was never a seamstress.

Well, a whore can make twice the money

and have ten times the enjoyment!

You don't know what you speak, Gabriel.

Perhaps my poem on this very subject will convince you.

"Your silk ungirdled and unlaced, and warm sweets open to the waist,

"all golden in the lamplight's gleam,

"poor beauty,

"so well worth a kiss!"

That's bloody lovely sherry by the way, John.

No wonder your family's all tinned up!

Straining to shock is rather an adolescent trait, Mr Rossetti.

"To be a first-rate painter you mustn't be pious,

"but rather a little wicked." Does that sound familiar, John?

I hardly meant that a man should go and throw money

in a prostitute's hair, Gabriel.

[HE BURPS]

Excuse me.

GABRIEL: I left those Ruskins reeling, did I not?

Did you hear the silence after I stopped speaking?

That silence was the silence of those who are deeply embarrassed.

Oh. I see. You are of Ruskin's camp now.

His paid house artist!

It has nothing to do with whose "camp" I belong to...

you were rude and boorish

and ignorant and, to be frank, insane.

You sat there in silence!

If anyone played the village idiot in that little cameo, it was you!

No, Gabriel. It was your arrival that rendered me dumb.

Oh, I see. I missed your act, did I?

Too late to see the Hat Shop Girl speak as though she had a brain?

Is that how you regard me?

Like some kind of novelty act that you've trained up?

The reason I sat in silence was because

you didn't leave me any room to be myself.

Before you arrived, I was full of confidence

because two people seemed to want to hear my opinion.

When you arrived, it was clear there was only ever

going to be one opinion expressed in that room.

Yours!

I'm sorry.

I... I am a fool.

I'm only happy on social occasions when there is chaos around.

I find comfort in the disequilibrium of others, it's true.

It was unforgivable to rush in there and show off

and try in my clumsy way

to demonstrate that I was as good as you...

I suppose, I'm jealous.

And jealousy makes me petulant in the extreme.

Can we just seek comfort in each other's arms tonight?

This is what I am attempting.

No, like this. Holding each other. Nothing more.

This is exactly what I was talking about at the Ruskins.

Why must a man feel he has to earn the right to come near a woman?

So you'd rather I showed no reservation and behaved like the whores you clearly admire.

Would that be such a hardship?

[HEAVY BREATHING]

[HEAVY BREATHING]

[HEAVY BREATHING]

I need them now! I need them now! I need them now!

[THEY MOAN]

Now, now, now...

Will you please stop following me?

-I am afraid that's not possible. -Not possible.

[HE GRUNTS]

GABRIEL: What?

Where has it gone?

Oh. Shit, shit, shit!

William was wondering if you'd read the poems yet?

Yet. It does not often help my poems much to solve them.

You are unbelievable!

Can you not see that I'm in a terrible, crushing dilemma,

yet you choose to harass me about your juvenilia!

Your decision to abandon an undercoat was not an artistic one?

An undercoat?

On the wall.

NED: Before you began.

I assumed it was a radical departure rather than an...

..an oversight.

Undercoat.

An undercoat...

Oh!

GABRIEL: Hello.

I wasn't expecting you tonight.

I came here because I had an overwhelming desire to embrace you.

GABRIEL: Are you upset in some way?

It's Ruskin, isn't it?

-What has he done now? -Everybody wants to blame Ruskin.

But it is you,

Gabriel,

and this...this. This slut

who you celebrated in your poem.

GABRIEL: Why do you hate other women so much?

What's wrong with you?

Yes, Fanny is a street girl.

Yes, she is a prostitute.

She has a sweet and giving and sensual nature.

And yes, I want to capture that on canvas

rather than go down the same old route

of fallen women and the dangers of lust!

And do you know something?

I actually think it's healthy.

Certainly healthier than your grudging attitude towards sensuality.

Thank you for at least being honest about our love affair.

We don't have a love affair.

We've an argument punctuated by sex!

I hate you! For all your talk of your soul and depth

you are dead inside!

Do you hear me? Dead!

It is exactly what I feared.

The Ruskins have taken you over.

Millais was right. They have poisoned you against me.

You are lost to me!

I fear I am lost to you because

my wish of being an artist is coming true.

I fear you much preferred me when I was a hopeful failure.

I fear that is what you will always want in a woman!

If you walk away from me I can only assume that you won't be returning.

It is over, Gabriel.

You are incapable of love

and I only wish I'd realised that sooner.

It's over.

[DOOR SLAMS SHUT]

You broke off your engagement?

Lizzie broke off our engagement, Fred.

She has changed beyond recognition

from the sweet hat shop girl we fell in love with.

It's a tragedy, Gabriel.

To see you married would be finally to see you happy.

I know what it means to have your heart ripped in two.

-Lizzie must have been distraught. -GABRIEL: It was hateful, Fred.

It has left me unable to think of anything else.

Well, if you will persist in answering the siren call of your own lust,

-then you will never be truly happy. -So what do you suggest?

Well, I am going to the Gardens.

And I suggest you come with me.

-The Gardens? -Yes.

Well, I suppose I might just be able

to block her out of my mind for a few hours.

So, we're not here to buy, then?

Quite the contrary, Gabriel.

We are here to persuade these young ladies to reform their lives.

A leaflet dissuading ladies from debauchery?

I have already lost Lizzie. Are you trying to leave me with nothing?

It is necessary that good men intervene to show these ladies the error of their ways.

A leaflet, my dear.

JOHN: An excellent initiative. I wish I'd thought of it.

Perhaps you can give the rest to your...

..benighted sisters.

-Mr Hunt. -Dickens.

-A noble enterprise, sir, in all respects. -Thank you.

I have taken it one step further.

I have established a House Of Fallen Women, sir.

A house full of the most debauched and morally degraded young ladies

in the whole of London, where they will be educated and reformed.

A house full of young fallen women?

GABRIEL: Is that Fanny over there?

That's Fanny, isn't it?

You would not be the first man to be mistaken

in the estimation of a lady's character.

I was not mistaken in my estimation of Fanny's character, Millais.

GABRIEL: Don't you see?

I may be jealous, but I am wrong to feel that.

She is freer than any of us.

Free from the shackles of social convention.

FRED: Or enslaved by economic circumstances

into performing sex with rich and sweaty toffs.

[ANNIE LAUGHS]

It was bound to happen sooner or later, Maniac.

-WILLIAM: Do you think she looked a little plump? -I think she looked terrible.

Really? I thought she looked as though she was thriving.

Which they say is often a sign that someone is feeling terrible inside.

The mask of the merry, I believe they call it.

I have an idea that will cheer you up beyond measure, Hunt.

I find myself in the company of many buyers of art these days.

And it occurs to me that it might, perhaps,

be worth bypassing the Academy with your new painting.

-I will never paint again. -FRED: You should show it in a gallery

-and convince them to show it for a shilling a ticket. -Dashed risky business.

-How many attended the Manchester exhibition? -Over a million.

The owner would need a fraction of that number and we'd make more money

than anyone thought possible, before the painting was even sold.

Would you care for me to open negotiations on your behalf

-in return for a small percentage of the profits? -You know nothing, Fred.

-I know what makes money. -You know nothing of suffering...

..and loss...

..and the hell I am in.

Otherwise you would not be prattling on about money.

I am in hell, Fred.

She has put me in hell!

I'm going to paint Marigolds for the backdrop.

They are the flower of sacred love.

And pain.

And jealousy.

Now, you surely are not jealous.

Why would I not be?

You've allowed me to paint beauty and womanhood for its own sake.

That makes me love you a little.

And love always brings jealousy in its wake.

Oh.

GABRIEL: You don't seem pleased.

I hardly dare believe it.

[HE CLEARS HIS THROAT]

How long have you been standing there?

What is it, Fred?

It is Lizzie, Gabriel.

She is dying.

Ruskin hadn't seen her since she left you.

Her family didn't know her whereabouts.

Then last night, she turned up, mad with laudanum and weaker than ever.

GABRIEL: I don't know how I can help.

You can tell her of your undying love.

If you want to save her life, that is what you must do.

She is terrible weak. Terrible weak.

And delirious.

-She talks of going to Sheffield to improve her art. -Sheffield?

What order of derangement would send a person there?

Well, she got it into her head that she could find happiness there.

I had no idea it had got this bad.

-LIZZIE: You came. -Of course I came.

CHARLOTTE: She called for you, Gabriel.

-She loves you. -And I, her.

Then tell her, Gabriel, for God's sake, tell her!

LIZZIE: Charlotte, please.

Did you bring laudanum?

Sorry, my love.

Don't lie to me.

Did you bring laudanum?

Here.

GABRIEL: My God.

What have I done?

You have broken my heart.

I have, haven't I?

You are right.

Although the laudanum too may have contributed to your wretched state,

and the not eating and so forth.

Dear Gabriel.

Still looking for excuses.

I am merely pointing out that you need to take greater care of yourself.

I thought I could go on without your love...

..but without your love I have nothing to live for.

You will never lose my love.

I'm giving you the chance to be free.

No. As soon as you are better we will be married.

I hardly deserve that you consent to it, but please,

please...

Will you relinquish all other lovers?

I swear. I swear.

And as soon as you are strong enough

to reach the church at the bottom of the road then we will be married.

Now, please. Eat. Get better.

You promised to marry her? Again?

And she accepted.

You devil!

You gypsy! You stinking liar!

-CHARLOTTE: You shit! -GABRIEL: Stop! For God's sake!

You are killing her.

You are inflicting the death of a thousand promises!

-Now let go of my hand. -Are you calm now?

-I am calm! -Are you calm now?

I am calm.

Fred! Help me! Help me! Fred!

Please, Charlotte.

Lizzie has made her choice.

For better or worse, she has made her choice.

You're not too quick off the mark.

Perhaps because you deserved it, Gabriel.

FRED: Whether he offered to marry her out of fear for his reputation

or pity for her, one thing is for sure.

He is not marrying her for love.

Ruskin!

-What on earth are you doing here? -It is Thursday, is it not?

Yes.

So, today is the day we arranged for you to show me your completed mural.

Shall we go in?

It is not quite complete.

Well, I am capable of judging a work before it is complete

and I would like reassurance that you have made progress.

So you don't trust me then?

No, Gabriel, I do not. Shall we go in?

Lizzie's been ill. We thought she would die.

So I haven't been working on this as often as I should.

Nonsense. She's been on the mend for days now. Shall we?

Very well.

Are you not accompanying me, Gabriel?

I think you should see for yourself the progress I've made.

Without the expectant artist on your shoulder.

As you wish.

[HE GRUNTS]

RUSKIN: Gabriel!

Gabriel, come in here at once!

You have made miraculous progress.

Indeed I have.

Indeed I have!

Some of your flowers are a little imprecise,

-but I have known all along you are no Millais. -God forbid.

I think you have been altogether...

..too modest.

It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?

-Well done, Gabriel. -Thank you.

William Morris. Ned Burne-Jones, I thank you...

..from the depth of my scrotum!

The sketches were there. We only really had to colour in.

Some of the flowers were a little rough, but we can forgive that.

-The poems. -I'll never be the artist you are.

Oh, Ruskin may disagree with you there.

-You mentioned us to Ruskin? -Poems.

Of course. You don't think I would take the credit alone, do you?

Poems!

Sorry, William?

Now will you read my poems?

You, my friend, are a big, hairy ball of genius!

You like William's poems?

How long did it take you to write these?

Two perhaps, three...

Seven in a week, thirty in a month...

-Days! -Three days! And he'd never written poetry before!

Nobody told me it would be so easy.

Come and sit with the Brotherhood.

I think I will swoon with pride.

Before you do, you can buy us drinks.

"Ozana, shall I pray for thee? Her cheek is laid to thine."

I am telling you, these boys are every bit

as heartfelt and genuine as we once were.

What now, Reverend Fred?

I thought perhaps you might at least stay sober tonight.

Oh, yes. Lizzie and I are getting married tomorrow.

And you and Ned are invited.

To your...bride... groom...wedding?

Of course. All the Brotherhood are invited.

And as you are now both members of the Brotherhood.

The Brotherhood?

Ned!

Ned! Ned!

-Ned, Ned. Ned. Ned. -'Ere, watch out!

When was this decided? You can't just go adding members

to the Brotherhood whenever you fancy.

Millais has gone his own way, Maniac.

We need fresh, new dedicated members.

Ned and Morris are more in tune to our ideals, anyway.

And under your spell.

I'm ignoring you, Fred,

until you've recovered some of your former sweetness.

Shrivelled and bitter doesn't suit you.

And, er, Ned can paint, you say?

He can paint, and Morris can write the most exquisite poetry.

And he's an ardent Christian.

[GLASSES SMASH]

Seems like a good chap.

MAN AT BAR: What d'you do that for?

Bloody poets!

May I bring my sweetheart?

I told you, Ned's invited.

I have a girl so beautiful she will take your breath away.

Bring her, bring her, by all means.

If she's as big as him she'll take any man's breath away.

How's Fanny taken the news of your betrothal?

Fanny's a free spirit.

She'll take it in her stride.

So you don't mind in any way?

Not even a twinge of jealousy?

I have no claims on you, Rossetti,

cos, after all, I have no feelings.

What?

I cannot have no feelings because my grammar is all in the wrong.

And I do not have clever words

so surely this means I have no feelings.

I am as thick skinned as I am thick headed.

Fanny, please, do not take on like this.

Hey.

[SHE LAUGHS]

-I worried you, didn't I? -You did indeed.

I have never met a woman with whom I have such a complete understanding.

-Nor I a man. -And...

I am tinned to the gills right now.

Ruskin paid me for the mural.

Oh, where have you been all my life?

Where have you been?

Don't move.

Don't move until I've memorised you.

Oh, the way the light falls on your hair

and captures the pulse on your pale neck.

Tea or hot chocolate?

I have a very good memory.

There.

You are burned into my brain. I will carry you always in here.

And I'll paint you from memory. That I can do.

You are an artist? That explains a lot.

-I was merely a painter until I met you. -And a poet too.

Would you consider sitting for me?

-Me? -I know there are some people who don't consider modelling

to be a respectable profession,

but I insist that it is the most noble profession there is.

Apart, perhaps, from being an artist.

An artist only records beauty,

but a model radiates it. And truth.

And a waitress takes orders from customers, not teasing.

I'm not mocking you.

You are a holy thing to me.

A holy thing.

If I were Millais I would...

Oh, I would paint you in a pure white silk dress.

If I were Monro I'd carve a lovely medallion from your profile.

-You're Rossetti, aren't you? -Does that mean I'm famous?

No, but your patter is.

-I'm not getting married. -You cannot do this.

You simply cannot at this late hour!

If I marry Lizzie then I'm promising never to launch another stunner.

And we all know that isn't a promise I can keep.

-Why on earth did you ask her to marry you, then? -I panicked.

I thought she'd die before I got her to the altar!

Gabriel. I know lust.

I know what it is to spot a stunner from humble origins.

But listen to me. God has rewarded me for showing restraint,

for controlling my base urges.

And now, I have money flowing in on a regular basis.

You were always selling paintings.

I don't find that a very convincing argument.

-Five thousand pounds just this week. -What?

Fred's scheme. To sell tickets for my paintings. It worked.

God has rewarded us for living a good life.

A good life, Gabriel. And your art will flourish.

So, that's the bargain we must make with God?

Constancy in marriage, or abstinence out of it?

That is the bargain we all must make.

No negotiation?

This is God we're talking about, Gabriel.

-He doesn't negotiate. -He doesn't?

Then I'm really in trouble then.

In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

we come together to witness the marriage of Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal

to Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

[RATTLING]

MORRIS: Damn this door.

This bloody, crapping door!

NED: The other way, William.

And to pray for God's blessing upon them,

to share their joy and to celebrate their love.

-To the jealousy and the love and the happiness... -Congratulations.

May I introduce my sweetheart, Jane Burden.

You are more beautiful than William told me.

He lies. I told him accurate.

Congratulations, Mr Rossetti.

I admire anyone that can commit to love.

I've rarely been committed to anything else, Miss Burden.

Congratulations.

-Ned. -Gabriel.

-Congratulations. -Thank you.

Who the hell has Ruskin brought with him?

A family friend. Rose La Touche.

-GABRIEL: She must be 15 years old. -LIZZIE: Fourteen.

Fourteen!

WILLIAM: Gabriel! What on earth gives Fred the right

to bring Annie here? Gabriel?

Please do not cause trouble on this our day of days, Maniac.

Very well. But only for you.

Consider it a wedding present.

I'd been hoping for cushions.

I take it you're no fan of weddings.

I just saw a young lady, who was once upon a time my sweetheart,

on the arm of a man I once considered a friend.

Me too.

Except in my case, the sweetheart was the groom.

It's a trying situation at the best of times.

Yeah. Just cos I work with my below decks

doesn't mean I don't have a heart.

Very eloquently put.

What?

I've never been called that before, that's for sure.

Gabriel tells me you're rich.

That is true.

You wanna spend a guinea or two on me

and I'll show you sins you never thought of,

just to help us over the heartbreak and such like.

So you would willingly subject yourself to no end of degradation?

Oh, if the price was right, sir, I would.

And I take it you are a grubby...

..uneducated girl...

..who readily feigns enjoyment of the basest of activities.

Lower born than Annie Miller, too, sir.

Well, I think...

I can offer you something.

I can't read.

Well, it says,

"The Charles Dickens Home For The Reform Of Fallen Women".

What's that mean?

It means your salvation, Fanny.

It means your salvation.

Ladies and gentlemen, Gabriel would like to say a few words.

Thank you, John.

As you all know I am not a man given to hasty decision making.

Or any decision making, come to that.

But as Maniac reminded me,

the day I laid eyes on the woman I love

my destiny was set.

So, I'd like to describe for you the feelings that engulfed me, nay,

overwhelmed me that day.

And overwhelm me this day.

Because it wasn't just her hair

which flowed like slick waves down her back.

It wasn't just the intensity in her heavy lidded eyes.

It wasn't just her lips...

..which seemed to form a perfect bow.

Nor was it her long, stately, neck

and her alabaster skin.

It was the fact that her humble background made it all...

-WILLIAM: Please! Just.. -FANNY: Get your hands off me.

Miss Cornforth. I have your best interests at heart!

Bugger off! Do-gooder!

It's not what you think.

Nothing ever is, Maniac.

Nothing ever is.

To us!

ALL: To us!

[CHEERING AND LAUGHTER]

FRED: Weddings are the best occasion for swift and unlikely liaisons.

I will leave with Annie and be thinking of Lizzie.

Hunt won't leave with Fanny, but be thinking of Annie.

Millais will leave with Effie, but be thinking of Ruskin.

And Rossetti will leave with the greatest prize of all,

but will still be thinking of Jane.

And Fanny.

And Annie.