All language subtitles for Mapp.and.lucia.S01E03.FTP (HDTV + 720p).English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Oh, Kenneth - it's pouring!

Ooh! 'Tis a gaesty nicht.

But the rain'll not stop Mrs Lucas.

What-ho, Major!

Dashed poor evening for it.

Puts me in mind of the Jumna
during monsoon.

Still, if anyone can warm
our hearts,

it's darling Lulu,

isn't that so, quaint one?

Race you to the front door.

Last one in has to sit next to Mapp!

The least she could have done
is sent her car.

It's a long way for you
on a wet evening,

just to listen to some piano-playing.

Well, it is a bit of a chore.
The Moonlight Sonata.

She'll only play the first movement,
of course, the slow one.

The second and third
are quite beyond her.

~ You think so? ~ I know so.

And as for her flawless Italian

and her beautiful art... pah!

What do you mean, "pah"?

Oh, she's a fraud, Diva, dear,
mark my words.

And I intend to prove it.

A musical composition
is like an architectural building -

it must be built up and constructed.

It must have colour,
and it must have line,

otherwise I cannot concede you have
the right to say you HAVE music...

~ Argh! Ah...
~ Brrr!

Thank you, Grosvenor.

Darling, don't go.

Mapp will be more unbearable
than ever

without you to slap her down
every now and again.

Naughty little Irene!

But go I must, I'm afraid.

I'm sure you'll have quite forgotten
me by the end of September.

Never.

That's a lovely dress, dear -
is that new?

Yes, rose-madder.
Do you, ah... like it?

Oh.

Well, I'm not a mind-reader!

Sorry we're late!
Not an easy journey... on foot.

Diva, Elizabeth -

which is which?

You could be sisters.

Ha-ha(!)

Help yourselves to some food.

Oh, what a shame the weather
is so cattivo tonight.

Wouldn't have missed it,
Lucia, darling.

I'm positively agog
with anticipation.

Beethoven AND tomatoes... yum!

Aye, 'tis awfy dreich!

Still, it's a sassenach summer.

We have to take the bree
wi' the barm, as they say.

Quite.

Would you like to take your seats
for the recital, please?

Excuse me, sorry...

Lights, Grosvenor.

(Oh, ruddy hell.)

~ Oh! ~ So sorry. ~ Excuse me.

Apologies, Mrs Bartlett,
I didn't see you down there.

~ Mind out, dear.
~ Oh! Excuse me, Mrs Plaistow.

There we are - all done and dusted.
Ha-ha... ah!

Divine.

Thank you!

Charming.

Indeed.

You play like a dream, Lulu -
isn't that right, Diva?

Oh, goodness me - she seems to have
fallen fast asleep, poor dear!

Oi, Lady Godiva - wake up!

Oh, is it over?

Wonderful.

The music, I mean!

So glad you enjoyed it.

Yes. Wish I could hear more.

Hear, hear!

Some divine Mozart, then,
if you insist.

Georgie, Georgie, you must promise
not to scold me if I break down.

Lulu, I should so love to hear

the second and third movements
of the Moonlight.

Such a rousing contrast
to the first, don't you think?

Indeed, although I rather feel

they resemble 11 o'clock
in the morning

and 3 o'clock in the afternoon,

whereas his first movement,
with its exquisite pathos,

is far the more fitting
for an evening recital,

wouldn't you agree?

Uno, due, tre...

So many movements of Mozart,

I began to think that he'd discovered
the secret of perpetual motion

and we should be stuck here
till Doomsday.

She's planning another one already.

"Un po di musica", she calls it.

Well, I'm sorry - there's nothing
"po" about that.

Yes, and isn't it unfortunate,
because I hope you haven't forgotten

that you promised to come in
that very night -

Thursday, isn't it? -
and play piquet with me?

No, I didn't.

Oh, yes, I did! Anyway, I do.

~ Yes. ~ So, consequently, we shall have
to refuse dear Lucia's invitation.

What a shame(!)

Excuse me.

I say, did anyone read
in the evening paper

about the Prince of Wales?

I believe I may have glanced at it.

Isn't he coming to visit
Lord Ardingly?

Yes! And what's the station
for Ardingly Park? Tilling!

Well, how pleasant for him.

He will catch a glimpse
of our beautiful little town.

Ought we try to see him,
do you think?

I think not, Evie, dear.

One mustn't condone the recent fad

of treating minor royalty
as celebrities.

Much better to allow him
to go about his business,

I would have thought -
wouldn't you, Mr Wyse?

As in all things, Mrs Lucas,
I quite concur.

And I would like to propose a toast.

To Mrs Lucas, to thank her for
a most memorable musical evening,

and to Miss Mapp, for enabling us
all to make her acquaintance.

Mrs Lucas... Miss Mapp.

Mrs Lucas, Miss Mapp.

Ah, did Cadman deliver
the new invitations this morning?

Yes, ma'am.

~ Sorry...
~ Yes ma'am, he did.

Thank you, Grosvenor.

Give me that.

Go on, tell her!

Everything all right, Foljambe?

Begging your pardon, ma'am...

No. No, it isn't.

I know she's only here
for another fortnight,

but TWO musical evenings in one week.

How she spoils us(!)

Well, she says she will start
a bridge class if we like.

Ha! And who will the pupils be?

~ Well, I know one who won't.
~ And one and one makes two.

We've been perfectly happy here
for many years, going our own way,

living in sweet harmony together,

and I, for one, do not intend
to put my neck under the yoke.

I wouldn't want
to appear ungrateful.

And who is she to say you cannot go
and see the Prince of Wales?

We may never have
the opportunity again!

Precisely. It is of no consequence
to me personally,

but I know many people
who are very interested

in the comings and goings
of the royal family,

and who is Mrs Lucas of Riseholme
to look down on them for it?

Still,
I think she was probably right.

She even offered to give lessons
in flower-arranging.

She said she thought the church
displays were a little... mundane.

Oh?

That's settled then.
Piquet, Wasters, Thursday.

You did get my invitation,
didn't you?

Oh, yes!

Yes!

So pretty, isn't it?

Hmm.

I shall be very sorry to
leave Tilling.

Mind you, I'm sure there's plenty
to catch up on in Riseholme.

Georgie, there's something
I want to tell you.

Oh, I'm sure I shall like it -
go on.

No, you won't like it at all.

Foljambe and Cadman
are going to marry.

~ When? ~ Not for the present.

Not till we get back to Riseholme.

She informed me just this morning.
I...

I'm sorry.

It's the most dreadful thing
that's ever happened to me.

I didn't think Foljambe
was so selfish.

15 years, and now she goes
and breaks up my home like this...

My dear,
that's a rather excessive statement.

You can get another parlour-maid.
There are others.

If you come to that,
Cadman can get another wife.

You'll miss him too, of course.

Oh, I don't think
he means to leave me.

What makes you say that?

Then perhaps Foljambe
doesn't mean to leave me!

That's rather different.

She'll have to look after his house
by day, and at night...

.. at night, he'd like her
to be there.

Oh! Horrible to think of!

What can she see in him?

I've a good mind to go
and live in an hotel.

Well, I'm glad you're
not overreacting.

Sweet Susan, Mr Wyse, how-de-do?

De-do.

Had your invitation to the next
"po di musica" on Thursday?

We have. An unusual inscription,
I confess.

A simple "musica" would, I thought,
have been more ordinary.

I'm sure Mrs Lucas has it perfectly,

because she is quite
the Italian scholar.

Readings from Dante,
the next threat - erm, treat.

Yes, we must ask Mrs Lucas if we may
bring your sister, Algernon.

~ Your sister?
~ Yes, joyful news.

Amelia is spending
a few days with us

before heading over to Ardingly Park
for the Prince of Wales.

~ Prince of Wales. ~ I long to hear her
and Mrs Lucas talk Italian together.

A lovely language to listen to,

though Amelia laughs at my poor
efforts when I attempt it.

Yes, that would be something,
wouldn't it?

Joyful news, indeed.

Au reservoir!

Ah!

~ Lucia! ~ Lucia!
~ Good morning, ladies.

Lucia, thank you for your party
last night.

~ Lovely. ~ Yes.

Oh, no, no - don't thank me -
thank the immortal Beethoven.

You... kindly invited us
to another musical evening.

Yes?

But the thing is, erm -

not... not that we couldn't
change it, of course -

but we did, Diva and I,
Mrs Plaistow, arrange...

Oh, what a beautiful morning!

Such a relief to have moved on
from that dreary storm.

I trust you are all well?

~ Yes, very well - thank you, dear.
~ Jolly good.

Oh, while I have you,
I wonder would it be at all possible

to borrow your tagliacarte?

Mine seems to have gone missing.

My... my-my what, dear?

Your tagliacarte.

Am I not saying it right?

It's Italian for paper-knife.

Oh!

Oh, no - taglia-CAR-te.

~ Ah. ~ Ah, yes, your pronunciation
did fox me for a little.

I'll have a word with my domestica
and have her it sent round.

~ How kind. ~ I was just explaining
about Thursday...

Yes, the "po-di-mu" - what a thrill.

I have JUST received my invitation -

Withers is so indolent these days -

and I clapped my hands for joy.

Red-letter days!

~ But the piquet...?
~ Piquet's off, dear.

Well, excellent.

Evie? Evie, dear,
you were saying something?

Oh, yes - delighted. Can't wait.

Well - goodbye.

What was all that about?

I can't eat another plate
of tomatoes -

I had heartburn half the night.

I just bumped into the Wyses
outside Twistevant's

and Susan let slip that
Mr Wyse's sister

is arriving in Tilling
tomorrow night.

~ The Contessa di Fara-di-whatsit?
~ Faraglione, yes,

the one who lives in Naples.

They want to bring her
to Lucia's po-di-mu,

and I wouldn't miss that
for the world!

~ Why?
~ She'll be forced to talk Italian!

Mr Wyse is always saying what a treat
it would be

to hear them talking together,

and I'm convinced that Lucia
doesn't know any.

Well, that would be rather amusing.

Being put down a peg or two
certainly wouldn't hurt her.

Precisely. She won't be able
to wriggle out of it

and she'll finally be exposed.

Oh, how I wish I could see her face
when she hears the news.

What fabulous news.

I-I-I said... I said,
"What fabulous news."

No - of course,
I should be delighted.

Yes. Un grande onore.

Thank you so much, Susan, goodbye.

Oh, dear. Can't you put it off?

~ Sprain your thumb or something?
~ Not a bit of good.

She'll be here for a week.

Naturally, I have to avoid
meeting her altogether.

~ That's a bit excessive, isn't it?
~ She speaks Italian. Fluently.

Ah.

The only thing I can think of
is influenza.

Rather a bore,
not to be able to go outside.

I have my secret garden.
It's not overlooked.

~ What about me?
~ Oh, I'm sure you'll manage.

I can't have influenza too -
it would be too suspicious.

I'm bound to meet the Contessa
and she'll see in a minute
I can't talk Italian.

~ Well?
~ It'll react on you.

You and I are supposed to talk
Italian together,

and when it's obvious I can't say
more than three things in it,

the fat's in the fire,
however much influenza you have.

I never thought of that.

It's evident you haven't grasped
the situation at all.

Oh, Georgie...

Oo not cwoss wiv poor Lucia?

I was rather,
but never mind that now.

What am I to do?

Che faro, in fact.

For goodness' sake,
don't talk Italian -

it's that we're trying to avoid.

It's odd we've got to break
the habit of doing something
we can't actually do.

You're right,
you can't have influenza as well.

If we both had it
as the Contessa arrived,

that Mapp might easily put
two and two together.

Her mind's horrid enough
for anything.

Oh... how tiresome.

~ I think you'll have to go away.
~ But I don't want to go away!

I have to sort out the situation
with Foljambe...

I can see it all, Georgie.

You've not been looking
well lately...

My dear, you're the picture of
health, really -

I've never seen you looking younger.

.. so you've gone off to Folkestone
for a few days' sea air.

You needn't bathe.

You can take my car,
for I shan't be able to use it,

and you'll have Foljambe, of course,
to valet you.

You must start this afternoon
before the Contessa gets here.

I'll telephone you to say
when you can come back.

And in the morning,
I'll begin phase two.

~ Buongiorno!
~ Ah, Mrs Lucas.

Buongiorno - come va?

Many thanks, Mrs Lucas,
for your kind invitation,

Amelia is most looking forward
to your "po di musica".

It will be gran piacere
to meet her,

and molto amabile to speak
la bella lingua again.

Alas, poor Georgie will
not be joining us.

He is un po ammalato

and will be spending a settimana
by the mare.

Peste a viscere.

You must come over early,
Diva, dear, and hear my fugue

before l'arriva della
contessa nobile.

Cara Elisabetta - come ti va?
Bene...

What did she say?

Dashed if I know.

She said she can't wait
to talk Italian.

I hope you know what you're doing,
Elizabeth.

Now dear, about our dresses -

one of us is going to have to dye.

Beg your pardon?

A new colour. And I don't think
it's fair I...

Oh, I've already done it.

Rose-madder's over according
to The Ladies' Companion.

The new shade is Kingfisher Blue.

Grosvenor, close the shutters,
and then come and see me in my room.

I have instructions for you to be
held in the strictest confidence.

~ Which shutters?
~ All of them!

Poor Mrs Lucas has submitted
to a bout of influenza.

Oh, calamity!

And on the morning of her party,
too.

She says that the attack is sharp
but not serious

and that she's distraught
at not being able to welcome
your sister in person.

Well, Amelia will be disappointed,
no doubt about it.

Algernon, I think it only fitting

that we should step unto the breach,
as it were,

and host a dinner for Amelia here,
at Starling.

My dear,
what a beneficent suggestion.

I shall scribble the notes myself
and have Figgis distribute them.

Ah, Grosvenor,
I've just heard the news.

How is our dear patient faring?

No anxiety, Miss,
she just needs warmth and quiet.

So might we expect to see her up
and about in a day or two?

Oh, I couldn't say, Miss,

but no doubt she'd thank you
for your enquiry.

Now, if you don't mind,
I've got some broth on the stove.

No admittance, I'm afraid.

However, Grosvenor informs me that we
can expect to see our darling Lulu

up and about again in a day or two.

Hopefully, she won't miss
the Contessa altogether.

What rotten luck.

Exactly.

I shall have to shop for dinner,
now. I've got nothing in.

Aren't you dining at the Wyse's?

No.

Ah. That is a pity.

Perhaps they're introducing
the Contessa to a few "intimes" only.

So like Mr Wyse, so... discerning.

Well, I'm going,
and so are the Bartletts.

I saw Evie at the vicarage just now,
fretting about what to wear.

Oh. Well, I should pop home, then,
see if there's anything... Yes.

Au res!

~ Janet, any note from Mr Wyse?
~ No, ma'am.

Mrs Wyse?

Oh.

Figgis? Is that for Mrs Plaistow?

Best leave that with me -

she's popping into Wasters
for a spot of piquet.

Better wait in, then, just in case.

Ah - good evening, Major.

Miss Elizabeth.
What a striking frock!

Oh, thank you.

~ It's Kingfisher Blue.
~ Very modern.

May I?

Right, I'll be off now, then, ma'am.

Oh, ah. Good night Janet.

I've left a tray in the kitchen,
ma'am, just in case...

Ah - well, thank you.

Amelia, dear?

This is the Reverend Bartlett
and his charming wife.

Ah, yes - born in Birmingham
but talks Scotch,

calls himself "Padre"
and is a maestro at bridge.

Am I right?

Er, yes. That's correct.

Algernon regularly writes
to his sister

with all the news from Tilling.

Oh! His letters have me
crying with laughter.

It's like meeting one of my favourite
characters from a book.

He's just how I imagined.

And where's the little wife?

Here, Your Ladyship.

Don't call me "Ladyship".
Only servants do that.

Contessa, if you will,
or Amelia if we become friends.

Now, tell me three bits of gossip
or one big secret.

Miss Mapp, Major Flint. Welcome!

Quite a feast we have in store,

for my sister has brought
quail's eggs from Capri.

~ Oh.
~ Oh, splendid!

Is Mrs Plaistow not with you?

Uh...

Oh!

Hello?

Dear lady, I apologise for resorting
to the telephone apparatus

but a most terrible thing
has happened.

Can you hear?

Yes, yes, I can hear.

By the most calamitous mistake,

the note I wrote you this morning
was never delivered.

Figgis conveyed it to Miss Mapp's
house in error

and she, dear lady,
didn't know it was there.

I shall certainly dismiss him
unless you plead for him.

~ Can you hear?
~ Yes.

Well, I come on my knees to you.

Can you possibly forgive the joint
stupidity of Figgis and myself

and honour us with your presence
at dinner?

~ We will wait for you, of course.
~ Delighted - be there in ten.

Many thanks, dear lady.

Oh.

What do I do now, Figgis?

And how long will you be staying
in Tilling, Contessa?

Well, that depends
upon the gentlemen.

If the Major and the Padre
and Twistevant the greengrocer

all fall in love with me
and fight duels over me,

then I will stay forever.

You may take that for granted,
by Jove!

Oh, dear - I can see we have vexed
our Miss Mapp.

She obviously wants you
all to herself, Major.

Tell me, why haven't you asked her
to marry you yet, hmm?

Well, I, er...

We should have more marriages
in Tilling.

Ah, here's our dear Mrs Plaistow,
at last.

How's your canary, dear, hm?

Quite recovered
from its nasty bout of pip?

Yes, thank you - I...

Jolly good.

Oh, look - you're wearing
the same frock as Miss Mapp.

How...

.. hilarious!

Tell me, did you copy her
or did she copy you?

I...

Oh, Algie, you must get them
to sit together at dinner,

it's too perfect!

Oh, ho-ho!

~ That is the funniest thing...
~ Yes, the... the dresses.

Oh, that was a low blow, Elizabeth!

How was I to know?
You weren't even invited!

Well, it appears that I was,
actually!

Next year?

I want to give him time
to find someone else.

Look, I can't bear to think of him
all alone in the world.

He's not going to be all alone,
is he? What about Mrs Lucas?

~ Oh come on, Jim...
~ What?

I don't think Mr George
is the marrying type,

~ if you see what I mean.
~ Get away!

You'll be telling me
he wears a wig next!

Oh, stop it!

I'm sorry.

~ Night-night. ~ Night.

Good morning, Grosvenor!
I've come for my daily bulletin.

Mrs Lucas is still confined to bed,
but her fever has subsided.

Oh, that is good news.

Perhaps tomorrow she'll be out
and about again.

I couldn't possibly say, Miss.

Well, give her my fondest love.

~ Miss Mapp! ~ Ha! ~ How-de-do?

You look as if you're about to
stage a break-in.

Ah, no, not at all, Countess, no.

I was... In fact, I was just about
to call on our ailing Mrs Lucas.

Ah, yes, your tenant.

Algie seems very keen to get us
together

~ for a spot of lingua Italiana.
~ Yes, indeed that would be a treat,

but apparently she has influenza.

Apparently?

So we're led to believe.

Anyway, I want you to come
shopping with me.

My brother told me that all
the great ladies of Tilling

go marketing in the morning,
with big baskets. Ha!

It sounds absolutely comical.

Ha-ha. Yes, I just feel it would be
a good idea if I...

~ From Mr Pillson, ma'am.
~ Thank you, Grosvenor.

That'll be all.

"Dearest Lucia, the most wonderful
thing has happened.

"There's a family here at the hotel
with whom I've made friends -

"English father, Italian mother

"and a little girl
with a bow in her hair.

"Listen!
The mother teaches the girl Italian

"and sets her little themes to write
on some subject or other,

"corrects them
and writes out a fair copy."

~ Buongiorno, Mr Pillson.
~ Ah, Buongiorno....

"Well, I was
sitting in the lounge this morning

"when the girl was having her lesson

"and Mrs Brocklebank,
that's her name,

"asked me to suggest
the subject for the theme,

"and I had the most fantastic idea.
I said..."

Write a letter
to an Italian Countess

whom you've never seen before,

saying how sorry you are
to have cancelled your party,

musical party,
because you caught influenza.

You're so sorry not to have met her

but hope she has had a pleasant
stay with her brother.

"Aren't I clever?

"The little girl wrote it out
and the mother corrected it

"and I begged her to let me have
a copy because I adored Italian,
though I couldn't speak it,

"and it was so beautifully
expressed."

Grazie, senora.

"I haven't told this very well
because I'm in a hurry
to catch the post,

"but I enclose
Mrs B's Italian letter

"and you just see whether it doesn't
do the trick too marvellously.

"Your devoted, Georgie."

~ Elizabeth. ~ Diva.

I was just on my way to
post a letter.

~ With no address and no stamp? ~ Hm.

Thank goodness
for your sharp eyes, dear.

Well, I'm just on my way
to the draper's.

~ Got to dye my dress again,
no thanks to you. ~ I don't follow?

~ You cribbed my Kingfisher Blue!
~ Cribbed?

Cribbed means taking what
isn't yours, dear.

If you'd only acted
in a straightforward manner...

Would you kindly explain to me
how I have acted in a manner
which is not straightforward?

Or am I to understand that
a monopoly on dyeing dresses

has been bestowed on you
by an Act of Parliament?

Crimson Lake, page 32, July's Vogue.

I wouldn't advise cribbing
that one,

as it would clash terribly
with your face!

You've got a black heart,
Diva Plaistow.

Nonsense.
Heart's as red as anybody's.

When you've finished looking down
on us all from your ivory tower,

you'll see it wasn't me
who started this war, it was you!

I shall see you at lunch!

Mm! Mm.

This is to be delivered
to the Wyses

at a quarter past one
precisely, Grosvenor, by hand.

Very good, ma'am.

~ Your costume is laid out on your
bed, as you requested. ~ Splendid.

Lovely view!

Isn't it?

Got you!

Got you!

I knew it! I knew it, I knew it...

Eeeecco!

Now at last we can begin.

A thousand apologies, dear Contessa.

I was painting
up in the church tower

and the time
quite flew away with me.

Let's have a gander.

Lawks, Mapp!

Welcome to the 20th century.
I love it!

Oh, quaint one. Well, it isn't
anywhere near finished,

but the pretty colours
were quite inspiring.

Shall we?

~ Mmm... ~ Mmm...

Thank you.

Ah, I will give anyone

three guesses as to what
I saw this morning.

Mr Wyse? Padre?

You shall all guess.

Is that for me, Figgis?

Scusi, everyone.

It's about someone we all know,
who is still an invalid.

You mean Lucia, then?

Getting warm, Irene, dear.
Yes, I happened to glance down

into my pet little garden
from the top of the tower

and there
she was in the middle of the lawn!

How was she dressed
and what was she doing?

Three guesses each, shall it be?

Oh, but never have I read
such a letter!

It's from Mrs Lucas and all in
Italian, and such Italian!

I have lived in Italy for ten years,

but my Italian is a bungle
compared to this.

May I?

Oh, mio dio,
what an escape I have had!

You had a plan

to bring me and your Mrs Lucas
together to hear us talk,
did you not?

I confess I did.

Then she would have known how poorly
I talk Italian

in comparison with herself.

I will read it to you.
It is like music...

I am sure it is absolutely
wonderful.

But didn't you yourself, Mr Wyse,
think it odd

that anyone who
knows Italian should put

"un po di musica"
on her invitation card?

Then he was wrong.

No doubt this phrase

is just a little humorous
quotation

of something that we do not know.

Like "au reservoir".

Exactly.
It isn't a mistake, it's a joke.

Well, in any case,

no-one has tried yet to guess what
I saw from the top of the tower.

Major Benjy, you have a try!

How was
she dressed and what was she doing?

Couldn't say, I'm sure.

Sure she was very nicely
dressed, from what I know of her.

Well, I will give you a little hint.

It is not what one
expects from someone with influenza!

Er...

You, then, Mr Wyse,
if Major Benjy gives up.

My ingenuity, I am sure,
will not be equal to the occasion.

You will be obliged to tell me.

Have a try!

Padre?

Er, I cannae think.

A bathing costume!

Yellow and black, like a wasp.

There she was in the middle
of the lawn, skipping!

Fancy!

Skipping!

With influenza!

Er...

That is indeed good news.

We may be encouraged
to hope that our friend

is well on the road to
convalescence.

~ Here, here. ~ Indeed. Here, here.

And thank you for telling us,
Miss Mapp.

~ Oh, shush! ~ Oh, come on!

It's impossible to believe that
Lucia's been ill all this time.

And then there's Mr Pillson's
sudden disappearance -

that was never properly explained.

If I were you, Elizabeth, I should
hold my tongue about it all.

I mean, you got hold
of a false scent.

~ She was skipping! ~ Good!

I mean, you wanted us to believe

that Lucia was avoiding
"Faradiddlyeony".

All wrong from beginning to end.

One of your worst shots.

And how do we know that she actually
wrote that letter?

Oh, Elizabeth!

I know we've had our differences
recently,

but I don't like to see you...

make a fool of yourself.

If you want my advice,

as a friend, then give it up!

She'll be gone soon and...

.. things can get back to normal.

Poor Elizabeth.
My heart aches for her!

I'm sure that carping
bitterness must make her wretched.

I daresay it's only physical.

Liver, perhaps,
or a touch of acidity.

A little skipping might do
wonders for her.

She should've stuck
to the yoga. Omm!

I cannot,
as you will readily understand,

make the first approaches to her

after the dreadful innuendoes
she has made,

but I should like her to know

that I bear her no malice,
no malice at all.

My dear, what a joy you are!

You can do everything.

You play like an angel,
you can skip, play bridge,

and you've got such a lovely nature

that you don't bear Mapp the
slightest grudge for her foul plots.

You're adorable.

Won't you ask me to
come and live with you in Riseholme?

I would, you know.

I'm sorry, Irene.

I can't.

Arrivederci! Arrivederci! Ciao!

~ Ciao! ~ All right. Ciao, ciao!

It all worked without a hitch.

And it was Mrs Brocklebank's letter

that really clapped
the lid on Elizabeth.

I copied it out very carelessly,

as though I scribbled
it off without a thought.

Really, Georgie, I turned the whole
thing into a stroke of genius.

But it was a stroke of genius
already.

My dear,
all the credit shall be yours, then.

I don't suppose there was a more
thoroughly thwarted woman
in all of Sussex than she.

And what's so awful is she was
right all the time,

about your Italian
and your influenza and everything.

~ Perfectly maddening for her.
~ Ah, yes! Poor thing.

Mmm. Now, do tell me
all about your trip.

Yes, ah, all very pleasant.

Lots of lovely shops and sea air,
but, um,

I couldn't help thinking
about the Foljambe situation.

~ Yes, I've been...
~ Let me speak, Lucia, please.

I've given this a lot of thought,
and,

well, if they do decide to marry,
which looks...

~ .. then wouldn't it make things
easier if... ~ Yes?

If you and I, perhaps...

~ Then they could stay
together... ~ Georgie...

~ We could manage it perfectly.
Separate rooms... ~ Georgie, before
you say anything you might regret,

I too have been thinking
about the Foljambe situation

and I may have a solution
that's a little less drastic.

So what we thought,
Mrs Lucas and I,

was that I could hire you
a charwoman

four times a week
to keep your house

so you can come to me
in the daytime

and then at night, you can...

.. be... with your husband.

You'd do that?

Just to keep me?

Of course I would, Foljambe.

I've never wanted anything more.

Oh, sir!

Now, now, listen, I shall never
manage to call you Cadman.

You must keep your maiden name,
like an actress.

Now, run along and tell him
and let me know your decision.

Thank you, sir, ma'am.

Thank you!

Oh, you're very kind, Georgie.
Very kind.

Oh, purely selfish, of course,
but thank you for the solution.

Much better than...

you know.

Georgie...

.. how long have you
and I been dear friends for?

Much longer than either of us
would care to think.

We're both getting on, aren't we?

And both of us

rather alone in this world.

But Lucia, I didn't mean...
I wasn't thinking straight!

People like us
with this strong bond of friendship,

we can look forward to growing
old without any qualms.

Tranquillity comes with age,

and that horrid thing

that Freud calls "sex"...

.. can be expunged.

Expunged?

Yes.

That's all I wanted to say.

I do hope

I haven't hurt your feelings.

But our friendship is perfect

just as it is.

Oh, yes.

Yes, of course you're right -
right a thousand times!

We're fine just as we are.
Ah, what a relief!

Thank you.

Well, I'm glad you're not too upset.

Hello!

~ Good morrow, fair dame!
~ Oh, Padre.

~ Such a splendid morning. ~ Aye.

How goes the festooning
of the station?

~ Oh, 'tis a bonny sight, i'fegs.
~ Indeed.

It's so charming of the working folk

to take such pride
in our little town.

I'm sure the Prince
will be most gratified.

He's expected
on the three o'clock, I believe.

The wee wifey's awfully excited,

though I know it's not the
Tilling way to admit as much.

I wouldn't know, Padre.
I only came to pick up a parcel.

There you go, madam, one timetable.

You're very lucky -
it's the last one we have left,

quite a number of folks
wanting them this week.

Most kind.

Dear Lucia,

how we've all missed you
these past few days.

Naughty microbes, for keeping
you from us all this time.

~ Oh, thank you, Elizabeth, dear. ~ Is
it safe to approach? ~ Oh, absolutely.

Mwa...

I was talking to Mr Pipstow

about the completion of your tenancy

and he suggested, nay - insisted,

that I carry out a little inspection
of the property, just to, ah...

~ Well, I'm sure you understand.
~ Oh, of course.

Such an inconvenience

but we are bound to follow
the letter of the law.

Oh. A little damage
to the wall, there. So...

back to your lovely
Riseholme tomorrow.

A little chip in the saucer, that.

~ A mere trifle,
but it's worth mentioning. ~ Yes...

All reparations shall be settled
before I leave, Elizabeth,
have no fear.

What time will that be, dear?

Just so I can tell Withers.

The whole house will have to
be thoroughly cleansed

before I can move my humble
possessions back where they belong.

~ We shall be gone by nine. ~ 9am.
~ It's quite a drive.

If you'd be so kind as to spread the
word among our other dear friends -

Georgie and I would be delighted
to see them this afternoon,

should they wish to pop in
and bid us farewell.

I'm not quite up to
my morning shop today,

so I'd rather see them after lunch.
Shall we say... three?

Three? But that's...

.. perfect.

I shall let it be known.

Oh, quite a bit of fraying on that

pelmet over there, do you see?

I've promised Miss Mapp
the run of the house,

with the exception of my bedroom,
of course.

Very good, madam.

Air the sheets and the linen
in the kitchen yard,

then you may begin to pack my cases.

Are you sure about this, Lucia?

Georgie, I've never been
more sure of anything.

I hope we get a chance to say
goodbye to everyone.

Three o'clock, Elizabeth will
invite them all over to Mallards.

There you are!

Oh, my sweet piggies!

Cruel of her to shut you
up in a box like that.

Let's get you back where you belong.

Gone?

I'm afraid so. Left first thing.

I happened to glimpse them

as I was taking your curtains
down for washing, Diva, dear.

That's odd.

Without so much as
a "by your leave"?

I don't believe you.

Come in and check, quaint one.

The whole place is quite empty,
I assure you.

Couldn't wait to get back to
Riseholme, obviously.

I call it rude.

Well, at least you'll be able to
move back into Wasters,

and Irene into Taormina
and I into my...

.. beloved Mallards.

Maybe I could go to see
the Prince of Wales.

That is, if you think that...

I don't see why not, dear.

Mrs Lucas was but a tourist,
after all.

We need no longer be
bound by her strictures.

What rubbish you're talking!
She's been hounded out!

Hounded out by hags and harridans!

You should be ashamed, all of you!

Oh!

~ Agh, it's...
~ Sorry.

~ Oh! ~ Padre! ~ Miss Mapp! ~ Evie.

Oh, my - how smart you look!

Ah, off to the station, I take it?

Aye, a bonny flower'll bring
oot the bees.

How true. Well, I may as well
walk with you,

because I have to fill in a form
about some lost luggage.

It's so irksome that one can't sort
this out over the telephone.

Indeed.

Yes. Top hole.

Fine body of men.

Ah.

Er, afternoon.

Um, I was hoping to catch
a train to the links,

but I seem to have forgotten
me clubs.

Then perhaps you could turn
your misfortune to advantage

and catch a glimpse
of the heir apparent,

should he decide to grace us
with his presence.

Oh, that's now, is it?

Well, no harm in taking a dekko,
as we're here and all.

Haven't missed him, have I?

So, it was a cloche hat
with a floral ribbon.

Do you recall the colour, Miss?

Mmm, what's that?

The colour of the hat you lost?

Oh, yes. It's, er, straw...

with some pink flowers...

.. and a blue rosette.

Is it him?

No, dear, it doesn't appear to be.

Well, that's all sorted, then.

No need to fill in the...

He drove?!

What's that, Miss?

Maybe he's getting the 6.20.

The Prince of Wales!
He didn't come by train - he drove!

Hoo!

Hoo!

Your Highness!

Your Highness!

Elizabeth, dear!

Do you need any assistance?

I do hope you're not hurt.

Not at all!

I, um...

I just...

Oh! Oh. Oh.

I...

So stupid. My, um... ankle... turned.

Thank you! Mr Pillson.

I bought this, er, for my nephew.

His birthday's tomorrow.

Fancy running into you like that!

Lucia!

We thought you'd already gone.

No, Irene, dear,
we're leaving tomorrow.

Whatever gave...?

Perhaps I wasn't clear with
my instructions to my servants.

Do forgive me.

Oh, forgiven, Lulu, darling.

And it's so fortunate
we had the chance to say a final...

au reservoir, before you depart.

Oh, yes, "au reservoir",
such a charming quip.

I'm so pleased
you brought it to Tilling,

having heard it in Riseholme.

And fortunately on this occasion,
very apt.

~ How so, dear? ~ Georgie?

Lucia's just been to see a property
for sale out by the marshes.

~ Grebe? ~ That's the one.

Heaps of space,
and so much potential.

Mr Woolgar and Mr Pipstow
were kind enough to drive us there.

I've fallen in love with
this dear Tilling,

and fully expect to settle here
for good.

Angel!

Oh, joy, lovely Lucia...

And I was rather hoping
to settle here myself.

I don't know if your daughter

would ever consider selling
Mallards cottage...

Oh, I'm sure we could come to
a suitable arrangement.

~ Riseholme's loss
will be Tilling's gain. ~ Hear, hear!

Well, in the absence of the prince,

~ three cheers for Mr Pillson
and Mrs Lucas! Hip-hip! ~ No...

~ Hoorah! ~ Hip-hip! ~ Hoorah!

~ Hip-hip! ~ Hoorah!

..Hoorah.

♪.. If I were a shepherd

♪ I would bring a lamb

♪ If I were a wise man

♪ I would do my part

♪ Yet what I can, I give him

♪ Give my heart

♪ Give my heart. ♪

"For unto you is born this day
in the City of David

"a Saviour, which is
Christ the Lord.

"And this shall be a sign unto you.

"Ye shall find the babe
wrapped in swaddling clothes..."

Is Elizabeth not reading this year?

Mrs Lucas paid for new pipes
for the organ,

and Kenneth thought...

Well, SHE suggested...

"Glory to God in the highest,

"and on Earth, peace,
goodwill toward men."

Amen.

Amen.

~ Merry Christmas, Padre. ~ Major.

Miss Elizabeth! Miss Elizabeth.

Oh, Major Benjy.

Wonderful service. So moving.

Indeed. I believe Mrs Lucas
has invited us all round

to mince pies and Mozart
tomorrow evening.

~ Yes, sounds delightful, doesn't it?
~ No doubt, no doubt.

And yet... those parties, you know...

beautiful music and grub and all,
but...

Well...

Grebe's a long way off...

.. on a wet winter night.

There she is!

Elizabeth!

You'll have to come to our rescue.

We can't be trudging back and forth
to Grebe every night,

~ not in this weather.
~ We don't want to be given glasses!

~ We do not want to learn about Dante
and Homer and Beethoven! ~ Hear!

She wants to dictate to us.

We don't need a dictator -
we've already got a...

each other.

What is required...

.. of us all...

is a little firmness.

Elizabeth?

I wonder if you might be interested
in joining the Tilling choir.

Dear Padre's been exhorting me
for some time

to become more involved,
and I feel it's my duty to oblige.

And you, Major Benjy - well, the
baritones are woefully underpowered.

Sweet of you, Lucia, but I have just
been discussing with Evie here

~ some thoughts of my own.
~ Oh, really?

♪ Ding dong, verily the sky

♪ Is riv'n with angel singing... ♪

Merry Christmas, Georgie.

Merry Christmas, Irene.