02x05 - The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

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I believe another m*rder has taken place in Pye Street only last night. Is that not correct?

I saw the man fleeing, Inspector.

The k*ller we're looking for is John Marlott.

Go home, Joseph. You're off duty until further notice.

A ship was due in port three weeks ago, carrying timber and ice.

It never arrived.

I have been invited to a grand occasion tonight.

Frederick Dipple. Jack Martins.

Jack Martins.

What scared you the other evening?

There's this room where he... keeps all his contraptions.

There was a strange book and a door that can't be unlocked.

Dipple and the Dean of Westminster are conspiring to clear Pye Street ahead of the sale of the land.

Esther, I cannot wake up tomorrow morning, knowing that you will never return to this house.

I will return.

It may be true, as they say, that the stench surrounding the King's bed is worse than the rookeries.

But it is also true that the King will soon be dead.

In these troubled times, our government requires the support of the best men.

In his youth, an idealistic humanitarian, now, his treatments and cures have made him the most visionary scientist of his generation.

Gentlemen, Lord Daniel Hervey.

Thank you, Sir Robert.

My apologies for the surplus of rumor surrounding my absence.

It is my honor to return to public life, as a passionate advocate for Sir Robert's plans for our city.

This bold program for social betterment and reform, here in Westminster...

Law, order and public health for all.

No exclusions.

Not even the church.

It will be my privilege to persuade Prince William that Sir Robert's plans are no mere vision.

All he needs to do is look out the window and see for himself the changes that already occurred.

A body has been found in the river, sir.

What?

Why? Who did this to him?

Mr. Martins?

I've been worried about you.

You're not safe with me.

Will you let me help you?

If I were to let you,

you would be dead just like everybody else.

You are not alone with that affliction.

They were m*rder*d, Esther.

And these ghosts...

They haunt me,

but I cannot help them.

I don't know what they want.

You're tired.

You're cold.

Leave me!

Take your charity elsewhere.

Give it to someone who deserves it more than I.

Very well.

Gentlemen, the Sergeant's throat was cut ear to ear.

His heart was taken.

The circumference of the Kn*fe marks on his chest as well as the exceptional skill shown in the extraction of the organ suggest... that the heart was intended to remain intact on its removal from the torso.

I would also add that though the River Thames is not known for its warmth, Sergeant Nightingale's corpse showed signs of having been... recently thawed... from frozen.

Inspector Treadaway, do Sergeant Nightingale's wounds bear any similarity to those of the m*rder*d clergymen?

I couldn't tell you about the first two victims, sir.

Their autopsies were conducted in private.

But the newspapers reported that the clergy victims had their bodies torn limb from limb.

That's what I read, too, sir.

But we know that to be misinformation falsified by Grub Street.

Excuse me, the press.

Would you tell us about the events leading up to the discovery of Sergeant Nightingale's body?

Sergeant Nightingale told me he saw the k*ller fleeing from Cornelius Spence's lodgings.

He said he recognized him.

And, who did he believe it to be?

Inspector John Marlott, sir.

John Marlott?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but... wasn't John Marlott hanged in front of hundreds of witnesses?

Yes, sir, he was.

So what did you do next?

I relieved him of his duty.

Constable Bircher saw him later on his b*at.

He said he was babbling, couldn't make head nor tail.

That was the last anyone saw him before we found the body.

Thank you, Mr. Treadaway.

It is my conclusion that Sergeant Nightingale was willfully m*rder*d.

And in my opinion, if he was in pursuit of the true m*rder*r of the clergymen, then it was the true m*rder*r who took his life and disposed of his body and is yet to be captured.

Mr. Marlott?

How about a drink?

In that prison cell, when you told me you were innocent of Flora's m*rder, even though I could not find your proof, I believed you.

I don't believe that you are responsible for his m*rder now.

I failed him.

Perhaps.

But you have yet to fail me. And right now, I believe you are the only man that I can trust.

So, here it is.

Lord Hervey is alive and back in London.

He's been spotted more than once leaving the Palace of Westminster.

Wait! Wait! Wait!

He took a carriage. I don't know where he went.

What was he doing there?

He's working for Peel.

Now, your turn.

Do you still believe that Hervey is, in some way, a part of these crimes? I do. Yes.

Perhaps together we can shed some light on this matter.

You asked me who my source was that gave me the clergy's autopsy reports.

It was the Dean's coroner himself, Renquist.

Which means he faked them.

Yeah.

Exactly.

Now, why would a coroner wish to cover up a thing like this?

And who would he be doing that for?

That is the coroner's mortuary.

Shall I do the talking or...

Mr. Marlott?

I'll do the talking, shall I?

When have you not?

No disturbances. Am I understood?

So much for discretion.

Who's this? I'm a friend of Sergeant Nightingale.

I am afraid you've got the wrong coroner.

Beg to differ.

You lied to me, Renquist.

The m*rder*d clergy weren't dismembered.

They had their hearts cut out.

You deliberately falsified the autopsy reports and fed me false information.

Forgive me, but... isn't that all you're good for?

Maybe.

But not what I'm good at.

And when I write your obituary I shall make sure to cut your reputation to ribbons.

Obituary. Very good.

Who told you to cover up the removal of the hearts?

Well, here's the rub.

If I tell you, I'm a dead man.

We're all dead men.

Does the name Daniel Hervey mean anything to you?

Talk. Marlott, stop!

Talk.

Marlott?

John Marlott?

So, it is true.

And they say you're a k*ller.

Shame on you.

What's the ice for?

My morticians use it.

For what?

For what?

To store organs.

I am sorry.

I couldn't help myself.

I've almost finished the work. It'll be better in a minute.

I do not care about the work. You know that.

Please. I do not wish you to see me like this.

I wish to.

You're leaving?

Come no closer.

Please.

Come with me. Come with me.

You're saying this because you're leaving.

Is that really what you think of me?

Come with me.

As what?

Your seamstress or your mistress?

As my wife.

Why do the rich feel they can meddle with our emotions, sir?

I am not for collection.

My work is done.

He is seven years old.

He has one shoelace... undone. He will never tie it.

He has brown hair falling in his eyes.

And the red ball...

He loves to play.

He longs to play.

What are you doing?

Your son...

longs so much for you to see him as clearly as... he sees you,

and as clearly as I can see him right now.

He is always by your side.

He never left it.

No. Stay away from me!

Listen to me. Stay away.

Your late experiment has paid me a visit.

Was it fruitful for him?

I said nothing.

But he will soon find his way to you as you predicted.

As will the others.

The King will not last the week, and when he dies, I fear we will lose his protection.

Everything you ever taught me...

Every heart that I carved out at your request...

All roads lead to us.

Calm yourself. But the law will be upon us, Daniel!

Not if we aim it at Frederick Dipple first.

How?

Dipple intends to leave for the continent in secret.

That's when we will throw him to the dogs.

How can I be sure I will not share his fate?

Remember how you were preyed upon at school?

Who was it protected you?

Have I not always protected you?

Walter, you have shared in my discoveries.

Our names will lie side by side.

I just need a little more time.

"My beloved son,

I have sacrificed everything I have so that I may hear your precious heart b*at for all eternity.

Keep this formula close to your heart.

It holds the secret to everlasting life.

Farewell, sweet boy."

That's Maggs' seat.

It's taken.

Get lost.

I don't see anybody.

Well, that's because he's dead.

This is his wake.

I still don't see him.

I know you.

Corpse bearer.

You deliver ice, right?

Why? What do you after?

My job?

Ever heard of Frederick Dipple?

He imports timber and ice to London.

Do you shift his ice for him?

Where does he keep it?

I used to be a footman for Edmund Kean.

Yes, that's right. The actor.

Until he caught me pinching his silver.

Well, I learned my lesson, and now I work for Dipple.

He pays me well enough, better than digging up coffins.

And that will barely even get me halfway to place that I intend to be because this is a wake.

You tell me where he stores his ice, and when I'm done with him, all that ice is yours and yours alone.

So talk. Before it melts.

There's this tower by the plague pit.

You know it?

Well, it belongs to Frederick Dipple.

That's where he keeps his ice.

I loved him, Tatty.

What if I had something to do with how he d*ed?

How?

I told Joe that I had a bad feeling about Mr. Dipple.

We all have bad feelings about our employers. Who doesn't?

No, listen. I saw a man... in Dipple's house.

He was up to no good, I know it.

But I told Joe.

Have you told the police?

No.

They won't take me seriously.

Nobody takes me seriously.

Well, Joe might have!

Come on!

Miss Pickett, I'm afraid hearing strange noises in your employer's house doesn't quite give me enough to go kicking down doors with.

But that wasn't all.

Queenie.

He had a book.

A strange book.

It had a loose page with a drawing of a human heart.

I swear the page had blood on it.

A door I don't have a key to, there was some odd fellow trying to get into it.

Look, I know how it sounds, but... Bircher.

Thank you, Miss Pickett.

I'll take what you've said into consideration.

My constable will see you out.

The Dean's Parish Watchmen are now intent on apprehending Sergeant Nightingale's k*ller before we do.

If they are successful, we will be stripped of our authority.

And you are telling me that you have no lines of inquiry to follow?

Well?

Or is the Dean's estimation of our abilities correct?

We have turned up one, sir. Yes?

Appears that Nightingale received a tip-off from the housekeeper of Frederick Dipple.

Dipple?

She described a man hiding in Dipple's who Nightingale must've mistook to be...

Yes?

John Marlott. Marlott? Please.

God tell me that you are not entertaining this insanity.

It's not the evidence I'm entertaining, sir.

It's the fact that Nightingale was and might've paid Mr. Dipple a visit.

Which case we can follow his tracks from there.

Dipple.

Dipple, Dipple, Dipple.

Very well. Sir.

And Inspector. Sir.

With a man as powerful as Dipple, might have will not suffice.

Yes, sir.

People who know me too long always acquire a certain look.

There's something about me they... cannot place.

A question that they dare not ask.

The same look that you have on your face now.

The same look that I have fled continents to escape.

But for you, I cannot.

So ask me.

You can see my son?

And he is here now?

I cannot feel him.

Close your eyes.

This is madness!

Why would God let you see him and not me?

God has no part in this.

There are more things possible on this earth than you could ever dream of.

There is no death.

No.

There's only life.

Life can breathe itself into anything.

I can show you.

You will see him. I promise you.

How?

How...

Please wait for me here.

Please.

Please...

Mr. Dipple.

I'm Inspector Treadaway from Metropolitan Police.

This is Constable Bircher.

We've had some information, sir, regarding the death of one of our Sergeants.

We'd like to ask you some questions.

If you'd like to accompany us down to the station, sir.

It's Sir Robert Peel's personal request.

Sam?

I'm here, my love.

Mama's here.

Don't be afraid.

Frederick knows I am here.

My mother used to sing my sister and I to sleep.

I mean you no harm.

Quite the opposite.

Truly.

Who are you?

The one who can show you how.

You've never had any dealings with Sergeant Nightingale, any business or otherwise?

He's never visited your townhouse?

I don't make a habit of inviting policemen into my home.

You could ask my housekeeper, Miss Pickett, but... perhaps you already have.

Do you have any interest in human anatomy, Mr. Dipple?

That depends upon the human and the precise part of their anatomy.

How about hearts?

I am a collector.

I am interested in all things.

British Law is particularly fascinating, wouldn't you say, Inspector?

All those little idiosyncrasies about who it defends and who it punishes.

A man's rights are paramount.

But a gentleman's rights are sacrosanct.

How well do you know the law, Inspector?

Pillock.

What do you reckon?

He's sitting on thorns, sir.

What is this place?

It is where you will be reborn.

I will not force you.

This is your choice to make.

It is too precious a gift not to be.

What choice?

To die?

To transform.

To be reunited with your child.

Not in heaven, but here.

On earth.

Now.

You are by no means the first as Frederick himself understands all too well.

And I believe you are already well-acquainted with the second.

Though not as well as I am.

Allow me to tell you the truth about Mr. Martins.

But let us begin with his real name.

This is not God's will.

There is no such thing.

Only indifference.

Do you think all I do is deliver his poxy ice for him?

You are done for, corpse bearer.

It is up to us to retaliate.

And rekindle all we have lost.

Joseph?

Figured you weren't coming, sir.

I thought you might've dropped off.

Are you hurt, sir?

I've been keeping watch since sundown, just like you told me.

I've been on them like a barnacle.

Time's wasting, sir.

How long are you going to sit on them?

I'm sorry, Joseph.

I'm sorry.

I damned your soul.

I damned Flora's, everybody's...

Forgive me, sir.

Forgive me.

Joe?

Are you coming, Joe?

I've got my orders.

The choice is yours.

Marlott? Esther.

No. You are too late, John.

Whatever they have promised you, they're lying.

No!

No!

No! No!

Let me help you.

You! You!

Now, do you understand?

You are not the only one.

You and I are like brothers.

Answer the question!

How many others did you k*ll? Sacrifices are necessary.

The Dean of Westminster?

Has blood on his hands.

Frederick Dipple k*lled one of our own.

So tonight, we catch him, or we don't stop until we do.

You promised me the formula.

Give it to me.

I need it!

Get off the streets!

Stay inside!

I cannot live without Esther.

And one day, you will come to the understanding that neither can you.

God will judge you for this.

He will judge you for this.