01x07 - Why've You Brought That?

[bunniefuu]

I'm not prepared to compromise
on the price of the lower bed.

I would like access to the pit
at any time.

Neither of these requests
are unreasonable.

Only someone with something
to hide would think they were.

You tell your men to leave
that road alone. It's my land.

I don't care what
your arrangement is with Rawson.

He no longer seems to fear
that you'll sink your own pit.

That isn't an option anymore.

But not for the reason
he thinks.

No! No!

Ann, what is it?

Do you hear them?

Has anyone written
to Ann's sister?

With the right sort of help,

she may be able to make
a full recovery.

We should persuade her
to come up here,

where we can look after her.

If I go to Scotland,
I'll never see you again.

Look after yourself.

I'm afraid it may all be off
between me and Ms. Walker.

It's a shame because I have
become rather more fond of her

than I ever imagined I would.

- Joseph?

- Ah.

Thomas Beech, ma'am.
How do you do?

I'm Miss Lister's new groom.

- York, initially,

to collect my carriage
from the Norcliffes,

and then on to London,
via Leamington,

with Mrs. Lawton.

Then across the water to Paris

and then either south and
a ramble in the Auvergne

and on to Rome,

or north, to Copenhagen,
St. Petersburg, Moscow.

I haven't decided yet.

- That's, uh--
that all sounds very--

- Good, so you need to see
Mr. Lowe in Halifax

to be measured up.

I shall provide two waistcoats,

two jackets,
two pairs of trousers,

one overcoat,
one pair of boots, a hat.

Go back into the kitchen,

get some breakfast,

and tell Mrs. Cordingley
if anyone's heading

into Halifax this morning,
they're to take you with them.

- I'm going into Halifax
this morning.

- Ah, there you go, Thomas.

My sister will sort you out.

- Thank you.
Thank you, ma'am.

- What a lovely face.

- Hmm?

- Your new groom.

- Oh.

- You all right?

- I'm always all right.

- It's only me.

- Yes?
- Thomas Sowden to see you.

- Show him in.

- He's in his Sunday best.

- Is he?

Can you not bang like that
in the future on that door?

I've smudged.

- Sorry.

- Show him in.

- Come in, then.

- Mr. Washington.
- Ah, morning, Sowden.

- Pa's drawing a new map
of the Shibden Hall estate

for Miss Lister before
she goes off on her travels.

- There's you,
Upper Southolm.

- Oh, what's all these?

- Now that, Thomas,
is the manor.

It's the underground roads
and tunnels

that form the old Shibden pits.

- God, it's perfect.

- Well, it was,
till very recently.

What can I do for you, lad?

- It's delicate.

- Oh, that's all right.

We're very discreet here.
What's on your mind?

- Aren't you supposed to be
in kitchen with your mother?

- Go on!

Well, lad, what is it?

- I'd like to ask you

for your Suzannah's hand
in marriage.

- Thomas Sowden
in his Sunday best,

come to see Pa.

- Sunday best?
Why?

- When have you met her?

- Uh, when you sent her
and Eliza over to us

with that message,

about two months since,

for Miss Lister,

about the tenancy.

- So--
- We're very fond of each other.

- So you haven't--
haven't known each other

more than five minutes then.

What's going on?

- Have you--
have you asked her?

- Well, I said I'd have
to talk to you first, but...

yes.

Look, you're very young,
both of you.

- She's 16.
I'm 18 now.

- Look, Thomas, you--

you're a very impressive
young man.

The way you've turned
that farm around

has astonished me,

and I know Miss Lister's
happy with you--

- It was Miss Lister
suggested it.

- Miss Lister?

- She said she prefers
her tenants wed.

She says it makes them
better settled.

- Anne?

- I just went into the bank.
Is it--

Is it true
that you have given Mr. Rawson

the deeds to Shibden
as security

against a ?2,000 credit note
from his bank?

- Who told you that?

- Is it true?

- No, Marian,
it is not true.

- Well, then why did he say it?

- Who?
- Mr. Rawson!

Come in here.

Now you tell me
exactly what he said.

- Just that!

That he had the deeds
to Shibden there

at the bank
in his vault.

- The deeds to Shibden
are in this house,

where they've always been.

They're in this room, in fact.

I can show them to you
if you like.

How--how did this
conversation start?

- He just came
out of his office

and he made straight for me,

and then he just started
saying things.

- Why would he tell you that?

How inappropriate to tell
you something like that,

even if it was true--
especially if it was true.

- So just to be clear,

it isn't?

I had visions of you
swanning off

to Paris and Rome and Moscow

and the whole house
sold from under us.

- I know you don't always think
the best of me, Marian,

but I hope you know
I wouldn't do that.

Are you crying?

He made a lewd comment
about Mr. Abbott,

who, apparently, is now engaged

to Miss Greenwood
of Field House in Sowerby.

He said she obviously came
with a bigger dowry than I did.

- In front of people?

He said that in front of people
at the bank?

- He said he'd offer
to marry me himself,

but only to get his hands
on all our coal.

He's trying to find out
how the estate was left.

- What?

- He wants to know
how much I'm worth,

because he's still
frightened of me.

What did you tell him?

- Nothing!

I left as quickly as I could,

and I never want to go
into that bank ever again!

Mr. and Mrs. Saltmarsh
were there, all his staff.

It was excruciating!

- He should never have spoken
to you like that.

This is between me and him.

Marian, I'm sorry--
- Somebody should do something.

Somebody should say something.

He's a magistrate,
for heaven's sake.

Surely he should know better
than to behave like that.

Oh, there's your thing.

- He's still at it.

He's still stealing your coal.

That's what this is about.

He's fishing for information

because he's frightened
that you may yet have the money

to sink a pit
and find him out.

- Is it entirely
out of the question now, ma'am?

Sinking your own pit?

- I had the promise
of a substantial investment

from a...third party,
which I no longer have,

and without it,
I'd have to risk everything,

my entire income,

and if anything went wrong

during the construction,
if it collapsed or flooded,

I could end up having to sell
part of the estate,

which is...unthinkable.

- Let me and Mr. Holt

have another look
at the figures, ma'am.

Based on the bid the Mann
brothers have proposed,

let's see if there's
anything we've missed,

or any costs we can squeeze.

- I'd still be the one
taking all the financial risk,

whatever price
it was brought in at.

- When are you back
from picking up

your carriage in York ma'am?

- Friday.

- Let the postilion bate
his horses.

Tell him I want it back here
by 4:00

ready to set off
back to Leeds.

- Yes, ma'am.

- I wanted to thank you
for your great kindness

over Miss Walker
before I go off traveling.

- I was happy to help.

- I did advise her
to write to you

if she felt the necessity
of doing so

and not to hesitate.

I wondered if...

She and I have agreed

not to write
to one another, so...

if she did happen
to write to you,

I wondered
if you could let me know,

wherever I am in the world,
just...

if she needed any help,

or if there was any matter

in which I could be
useful to her.

- There was a letter

two weeks ago,
from her sister,

saying that Miss Walker
was worried

it was too cold for her
in Inverness,

and did I have an opinion.

Well, I advised good nutrition

and giving the place
a fair trial,

but it seems they sought
no medical advice

as they passed
through Edinburgh.

Captain Sutherland thought
she was "much improved,"

and that it was unnecessary.

- And no mention of her
hearing things at night?

- No.

- And the religious obsession?

- The letter was brief.

- You know her in-laws want her
for some of the kin,

if they can get her,
to pay off their debts.

Captain Sutherland's mother
spoke quite openly about it.

- I only met
Miss Walker briefly,

but I got the idea
she has rather more backbone

than most people
credit her with.

So when do you travel
to Leamington?

- Next week.
Thursday, probably.

A few loose ends to tie up
at home, and then...off.

- Well, my sister will be
delighted to see you, I'm sure.

- You know, I often think

if Mariana and I ever did
get together

after all our trials,

finally, the world
might make sense.

- Hasn't too much water passed
under the bridge for that?

- Is there a cure
for the way Miss Walker is?

- For people afflicted
with nervous disorders,

it's usually more about living
with it than curing it,

but with time
and patient management,

she could live
a normal enough life,

but it does require...

kindness.

Love.

- Whoa!

- I'm wondering
whether Rawson was drunk

when he said that to Marian.

At 10:00 in the morning?

- I hear he often is drunk

when he's presiding
over the bench.

- How disgusting.

What a sorry town
that makes us,

having a man like that
in charge

of so many of its institutions.

- Did you get the idea
he was drunk?

- It didn't occur to me
at the time,

but looking back, yes,

he had an odd kind
of ebullience about him.

- I'm going to invite him here.

Why?

- To hear him apologize,
first of all,

and then I can't have him
stealing my coal.

- Our coal.

- And certainly not when
I'm not here to manage it.

- He'd not come.
- Mm. He will.

If he can play dirtily,
then so can I.

- Stay.

She eats dogs, this one.

All right, where is she?

- She's, uh--sir.

Excuse me.
Excuse--Mr. Rawson.

- Well, Anne.

Oh, hello.

That was a nice trick
you played,

going to see my mother

and telling her
all those lies about me.

- Mm, nearly as nice a trick
as you getting that thug

to try and b*at
the living daylights out of me,

but hey-ho.

- Don't know what you're
talking about.

- It didn't work, by the way.

He ran off limping, clutching
the old family jewels.

I think he was crying
in the end.

Might be an idea

for you to employ more
than one of them next time,

perhaps three or four.

Would you like a glass
of Madeira?

- Perhaps a small one.

- Not for me.

- Why did you tell Marian

that you held the deeds
to Shibden?

- Oh, Anne.

- You alarmed her.
You upset her.

I'm fair game.

You can try the mettle
I'm made of any time you like.

Feel free,

but do not humiliate
my sister.

- Oh, she's a great--
you're a--

she's a great thick-head.

I was only teasing her.

I didn't think
she'd take it seriously.

- She was embarrassed.
She was angry.

Whereas I, on the other hand,

was only intrigued
as to why it was said.

- Yes, as was I
by the rubbish

you told my mother,
who seems to labor

under the delusion that
everything that comes out

of your mouth is gospel.

- She likes me.

She always has done.

I didn't tell your mother
anything that isn't true.

- Nothing you told my mother
is true.

- You humiliated my sister
in front of a number of people,

the Saltmarshes,

all of your staff
at the bank,

you tried to have me beaten up
in the middle of nowhere,

and you were seen
driving that gig

when the Hardcastle boy
lost his leg.

- And this is why I'm here.

If you continue
to make these allegations

to my mother
or to anyone else,

there will be repercussions.

- And then, you offer
to marry Marian,

but only to get your hands
on my coal.

Do you remember saying that?

- Vaguely.

- Vaguely.
Hmm.

It strikes me, Mr. Rawson--

it struck me
when Marian told me--

that despite
that underhanded stunt

you pulled
up at Willy Hill pit--

- Oh, I was calling the pit in.
It's exhausted.

There's nothing underhanded
about that--

- Despite that,

you're still anxious
about how much I'm worth,

and what I might do next.

- Oh, do you think?
- Mm, and then I realized--

- Oh, that's very good.
No, that's very funny.

Keep talking.

- And then I realized
the reason you're still anxious

and mouthing off
and wanting to know so much

must be because
you are still, still,

stealing my coal.

Now, then,
I have bent over backwards

to avoid accusing you
of this outright,

because I considered it
beneath your dignity,

as well as my own.

I had hoped we could come
to an arrangement

whereby you would pay me
for it fairly--

- Your price, madam,
was ridiculous.

- My price reflected
what you had stolen.

It offered you the opportunity
to make legal

your illegal trespass,

but you elected instead
to continue to deny it

and to continue to steal
my coal from under me.

Own it, Mr. Rawson.

Own it,
and let us do a fair deal.

- Anne--Miss Lister,
whatever...

I am not,
nor have I ever,

nor would I
steal your coal.

- Your men were heard

in my upper bed
by Hinscliffe's men.

- Oh, men in your bed.
Well, there's a novelty.

I suppose it's occurred to you
that Hinscliffe would say that

because he knows
it's what you want to hear.

Help yourself.

You said you vaguely remember
saying that

to Marian the other day,

so you are owning
that that happened.

- Yes, vaguely.

- Vaguely?

- Vaguely, yes.

- Were you drunk?

It was four days ago
and 10:00 in the morning.

That shouldn't be
a vague memory.

That should be
a crystal clear one.

- I was being funny.

Course I remember it.

- Mm-mm, well,
we think you were drunk,

and perhaps you were drunk
when you were driving that gig

when Henry Hardcastle
lost his leg,

the same gig that you sent
back to the manufacturer

a week later in Liverpool,

because you suddenly decided
you didn't like it,

and perhaps you were drunk

when you paid Mark Robinson
to b*at me up.

Mm, I bothered to find out
who he is.

And being drunk doesn't excuse
any of these things.

It certainly doesn't excuse

a seven-year-old boy
losing his leg,

but it does explain them.

But when you systematically,
day after day,

week after week,
month after month,

year after year,
steal my coal,

that is not drunk.

That is not the rogue decision
of a stupefied moment.

That is a very
definite decision

between you
and your brother to steal.

- I am not stealing
your coal, madam,

and I'm warning you again,

if you continue to make
these bizarre

and very serious allegations,
there will be--

- Yes, there will be
repercussions.

Well, if these repercussions

are to bring me up
in front of the bench,

then please do,
the sooner the better,

and then we can interrogate
these facts in public.

- All right.

Let's talk
about your coal, hmm?

Let's be clear.

I would have liked
to have done a deal with you,

because it would have saved me
a great deal of trouble.

There's a great sweep of coal
this way

which can be very easily got
and make us both rich,

but since it's become apparent
that you are so ridiculous

and impossible
and stubborn and inept--

I'm sorry, but there it is--
in matters of business,

I have elected to turn my works

the other way entirely.

Not so easily got,

and requiring a steam engine
to keep the works drained,

so more expensive and more
inconvenient altogether,

but there it is.

I have more than enough coal
of my own, madam,

believe you me.

I was only interested in yours

to delay the cost
of putting up that engine,

but, as it's in progress,

that's the way
my works will go.

The decision's been made.

So I can only repeat

that nobody that I know of

is stealing your coal.

- There are a number
of small economies

we've identified.

Robert Mann says
he could come down

to 23 shillings a yard

for the actual
pit sinking itself

and the only other thing
he suggested,

which doesn't help
your outlay,

but if you worked two shifts,

night and day,

he could have the pit sunk

within 12 months
instead of 24,

and that way, you'd see
your profits come in sooner.

- The risk's the same,
financially.

- Well, yes, and there would
be more outlay up front, but...

- It's risky.

Not here
to manage it yourself?

Are you committed
to traveling?

- I need to get away
for a while.

As galling
as this idiotic business is,

part of me just wants
to run off and forget about it.

- That's not like you.

- You might be surprised.

There are other things
to do in the world.

The only alternative
I can think of is...

Could you...

- What?

- Secure me a loan?

I need the best part
of ?1,500

to get this thing sunk
in a year.

My father offered to loan me
?450 a few months ago,

but I don't want
to complicate matters.

He'd want to interfere,
and I don't want that.

- What security could you
offer on such a loan?

- The--

The deeds to Shibden.

- Yeah.
- Watch the step.

- I'm going to leave Leamington
on the first or the second,

and be in London
no later than Wednesday.

You can write to me there

at 26 Dover Street,
Haymarket,

care of Mr. Hawkins.

We'll be there until the 17th

and aim to be in Paris
a week later.

I'm planning to stay
at the Hotel de Terrasse

on the Rue de Rivoli,

but I'll confirm that
nearer the time.

- I'm all right.

- And then from Paris,
who knows?

But you'll always know
where I am.

Wherever I go in the world,

you'll always have
an address for me, and I--

I'll come back
at a moment's notice

if there's any anxiety at all
about anyone's health.

- I know, I know.

I know that.

- Marian,

go and put this in the bureau
in my uncle's study,

and then you'll both know
where it is.

Go on, now,
and then it's done.

I want you to do something
for me while I'm away, Aunt.

I'd like you to write a note

every so often

to Miss Walker's aunt
at Cliffhill,

and then to let me know

if she's had any news
about Miss Walker

about her health
and so forth.

Could you do that for me?

Would you mind?

- Yes, of course,

if it's what you want.

- You mustn't be cross,

if I did have to call you back

on account
of Aunt Anne's health.

I wouldn't do it lightly,

you know that,
but she is...old.

- I want you
to do something for me.

Thomas Sowden,
over at Upper Southolm Farm,

has proposed to Washington's
eldest girl, Suzannah.

Mrs. Washington
isn't for it, at all.

She thinks the Sowdens
are beneath her.

He's for it--Washington.

He can see how bright Thomas is

and how likely he is
to do well for himself,

and it's better for us
if our tenants are settled,

so perhaps you could take
Father,

pay a house call
over at Fenny Royd,

and tell her
that just occasionally,

someone is born
with a nobility of character

that belies
their lowly birth,

and that's how we feel
about Thomas.

- Certainly.

- Take care of yourself.

- And you.

- I'm off.

Don't get up.

Well, take care of yourself.

And just so you know,

I am going to sink a pit
up above Conery Wood.

- When?
- Now.

They're starting next week.

Washington and Holt
will oversee it,

and we've engaged Robert
and Joseph

and John Mann to do the work,

but nobody else
knows about it,

just them and their men.

I want this whole operation
as covert as it can be.

And if Christopher Rawson

never finds out about it
till we're down there,

then all the better.

- How will you pay for it?

- It's all taken care of.

It's tight,

but it's manageable,
and if all goes to plan,

we could be getting the coal
within a year.

- Shouldn't you be here
to manage it?

- Me not being here
is the perfect cover.

How can I be up to something
if I'm not even here?

Now, you might get wind
of a few comings and goings

from time to time,
up on the hill,

but don't worry about it.

Washington knows
what's going on.

- I hope you know
what you're doing.

I've told you before,

it's an unpleasant
business, coal.

- For the journey.

There's some bread and cheese
and tongue and apples

and a couple of bottles
of beer.

- It doesn't matter
what she tries on.

He just isn't interested
in her, is he?

- Well, I may have been
indiscreet.

I may have told him
a cautionary little tale

about her indiscretion
with his predecessor.

- In.

- Giddy-up.

- No, no, no.
- Please, Mama.

- No, we're not going outside.

I need to talk to Aunt Ann.
Come on.

Come on.

Fine, please yourself.

Captain Sutherland
has invited his cousin,

Sir Alexander Mackenzie--

Sackville!

Sackville, darling,
please take that outside.

I'm trying to talk
to Aunt Ann.

Good boy.

Yes, he's invited
Sir Alexander Mackenzie

and his mother
to us for dinner next week,

Wednesday.

Now, I-I know it might be

a bit awkward
because of before,

but you are not to imagine
that there are

any hidden intentions
behind it,

because there aren't.

It's just--
it's a family gathering.

All right?
- I might stay upstairs.

- Captain Sutherland
won't like that.

- Right.

- It's all right, isn't it?
You'll--

You'll be all right with that.

Mama!

- Well, give it--

Let your sister have
a little turn.

No, come on, now.
- It's mine!

- I don't care!
Give it to your sister.

- Oh.
- Imb?cile.

- Charles.
- Miss Lister.

- You're not leaving?
- I am afraid I am, yes.

We've had some, um, news,

but Mariana's through there.

Do--do go through.

- What's happened?

- Oh, thank goodness
you're here.

- Ah, my 16-year-old nephew,

my younger brother's boy,
d*ed yesterday afternoon.

He'd been involved
in an accident the day before,

and then we had a note
at 9:30 this morning

to say he passed away.

- Oh, good Lord.
Charles, I am so sorry.

- I'm going back up
to Cheshire to--

to be with the family.

Mariana isn't.

- What happened?

- He was being shown
'round a factory

with his sister,

and, uh, his sleeve got...

caught
in a bone-crushing mill.

- The arm was severed
at the shoulder.

Must have bled to death.

That, or the shock.

I'll have to set off now.

- Charles, I really am
very sorry.

Give my condolences
to your brother and his wife.

- Oh, no, it's just the wife.

His brother passed away
two years ago.

- God.

- I'll pass on
your condolences, then,

as well, shall I, Mariana?

- Yes, of course.

- Miss Lister.
- Charles.

Are you all right?

- He wants me to go with him.

We've only just got here,

and she doesn't like me--
the mother.

It'd only be awkward.

So we've had a big hoo-ha
about that.

Anyway, I knew
you were coming, so...

I had no idea
you and her were so close.

I mean, I suspected
something, but...

- To start with, it was
neither here nor there.

It was just something to do.

- Hm.

- You know,
because she was there, and...

because I was lonely.

I don't know, I--

- So i-it's all off now?

- Mm.

All off.

- Freddy, are you crying?

- No.

- You're still thinking
about her, aren't you?

- It's not--

- What?

- It was never one of
my grand passions, but...

- Is she very rich?

- Well, yes, but it's--

funnily enough,
it's not that.

It might have been
to start with, but...

- Well, what, then?

- I just really thought
she'd say yes.

- Yes?

- I asked her to marry me,

to move in with me
at Shibden,

take the sacrament together.

But Freddy,
you're married to me.

- Yes, and then you went

and married Charles
all those years ago.

- Seriously?

You asked her to marry you?

What, to exchange rings
and alter wills, to move in?

- Well, I hadn't raised
the matter of wills yet, but...

- What's the matter?

- All the things
we talked about doing.

- Yes, and then
you married Charles.

- I had no idea it had got
that far between you.

- Yes, well, it did.

- No.
- Thank you.

- You're on the back.

Give Mrs. Lawton's
servant the up front.

- Ugh.

- I've booked us into the
Angel Inn tonight in Oxford.

With a bit of luck,
we should be in Dover Street

by Thursday lunchtime.

- You, perhaps,
don't fully realize

the implications for me
as regards to poor William's--

- Do you think
it's going to rain?

Sorry, go on.

- In the event
of Charles' death,

it would've been William
upon whom I became dependent.

He is--was Charles' heir.

Now, Lord knows,
I'll probably end up dependent

upon some distant relative
who's never even heard of me,

and who will cut me off
at the first opportunity.

- Surely Charles has made
adequate provision for you.

- Oh.
- Surely.

- I don't think he has.

It'd amaze me if he had,

the things he says to me
when we fight,

which is all the time,
by the way.

- Well, perhaps you--

- You see,
I always thought that--

- What?

- Well, I always thought
I was coming to you

when Charles d*ed,
and now there you are

planning to move
your little Miss Walker in.

- Mary.

I would always do
anything for you,

anything in the world,
you know that--

but you put an end to us
living together last year.

- When?
- When I left Hastings.

I called in on you
on my way back to Halifax.

I made a beeline for you.
I begged you.

I said, "Come on,
let's do it now.

Let's gather our rosebuds
while we may," and you said no,

that you could
never leave Charles.

- How could I leave Charles?

When I did,
you sent me back to him.

You and Steph.
- That was before.

I'd just inherited Shibden.
The timing was too blatant.

- It still happened.

- You said, "No, not now,
not ever."

- Yeah, but you were
all over the place

because of your Miss Hobart!

I mean, it would have been
thoroughly irresponsible of me

to--I didn't say that.

- You did.
- I didn't say "not ever."

- You did.
- Not!

- You did.

Do you think
I'm making it up?

- I think you were distraught.

- Distraught, maybe.
Not deaf!

- You're ridiculous.
I never said--

Why did you bring that?

- So I know
what the temperature is.

Why else?
You need to shut up now.

You're bringing back
some very poor memories.

- Well, I'm just pointing out--
- Yes, I'm a bit odd!

I like to have my thermometer
with me on holiday.

It's not illegal.

So you do want to come
live with me at Shibden, mm?

That's what you're saying now.

- Yes.

When Charles dies.

- Oh.
Not now.

So what am I supposed to do,
just wait yet again,

for this
maybe-sometime-never event?

- That's r--

That is what
we always said,

when Charles dies,

and now here you are, moving
your little Miss Walker in.

Well, not moving
Miss Walker in,

but you're planning to.

- Ann.

Believe Elizabeth has told you
my cousin,

Sir Alexander Mackenzie,
and his mother

are coming to us
for dinner next Wednesday.

Hello, Mother.

- Oh, she did, yes.

- I would consider it

a great kindness

if you would, uh, join us

at the table that evening.

- Of course.

- Oh.

Good.

Well, good.

- Are you not speaking
to me at all now, then?

I always know
when you're sulking.

All you do is write or read.

You should apologize to me

for what you said earlier.

- It's brought back
too many memories for that.

- What do you mean?

- Blackstone Edge.
- Oh.

- Scarborough,
this time ten years ago.

- Right.

Let's talk
about Blackstone Edge

and Scarborough.

Do you know what miseries,
what agonies,

I went through
being seen with you?

The way you used to look,
the way you used to dress?

Everyone whispering about you
behind your back

about how masculine you were.

I was snubbed, too,
just for being seen with you.

I mean, at least nowadays,

you do try to look
a little like a lady,

but then, good Lord.

And Blackstone Edge,
I was mortified.

I heard the post-boy say,
"Is that a man?"

Anne.

- Well, good heavens,
I'm surprised

you ever bothered with me
at all if that was the case.

- Because I loved you.

I still love you,

more than your Miss Walker
ever would have done.

- We are where we are.

We've both made choices.
Mm?

We've both made mistakes.

- Let's not hate
each other, Mary.

We weathered the storm
this far.

We're still friends,
aren't we,

despite everything?

- Oh, more than
just friends, surely.

No, you and I could never
be just friends.

- Come and live with me
at Shibden.

I won't go to Paris.
I won't go anywhere.

Let's put this nonsense
behind us once and forever.

Think about it.

Let's carry on tomorrow
to London and...

Think about it.

- I came to say good night.

- Oh, good night.

- You've been all right today.

- Mm, not too bad.

- Mm. Been busy.

Can I look?

- Mm.

- Hmm.

These are good.

Do have an eye.

Thank you, today,
at teatime, for--

- I shan't marry him.

If that's the idea,
he's wasting his time.

- Yes, I know.

But if you could just...

go along with it.

Let them come to dinner
and let's be civil to them,

but nobody is going to make you

agree to anything
you don't want.

- I want to go home.

- There's no one there
to look after you, Ann.

I assume Miss Lister's
set off on her travels by now.

- Have you heard from her?

- No, nothing.

And you'd be in that huge house
again all on your own.

You've got me here, at least,

and I won't let them bully you
into something you don't want.

I promise.

- You're frightened of him,
aren't you?

Captain Sutherland.

- So much more complicated
when you've got children,

but I promise, Ann,

I promise I'll look after you.

Night-night.

- Night-night.

- Anne!

- There was a note from Donald
waiting for me at my hotel,

so I came straight over.

How are you?

- Sore.

Such a ridiculous thing
to do.

So much more sensible

to lay an egg
and have done with it.

Anne Louisa.

- Anne, after Donald's mother.
He told me.

- Oh, that's what he likes
to think.

If she turns out
to be brilliant and fascinating

and bursting with energy
and ideas,

I'll know
who she's got it from,

and it certainly won't be
his mother.

Here.

Have a go.

- Oh.

Hmm.

How are you?

How long are you in London?

- Oh, a fortnight or so,
depending.

- On?

- Things.
- Ah.

- And then to Paris,
and after that, who knows?

South, through the Auvergne,
and then on to Rome,

or north, to Copenhagen and--

- Oh, you must go
to Copenhagen.

My sister--my half-sister,
Lady Harriet--

she'd be delighted
if you turned up in Copenhagen.

She wouldn't be able
to do enough for you.

She's positively gagging
for decent company.

Her husband's such
an odd little man,

but then he does have

all those handy connections
at court.

Who are you traveling with?

- I came up to London
with my friend, Mrs. Lawton,

from Lawton Hall in Cheshire,

but she's not...
crossing the water with me.

I left her at the hotel
almost as soon as we arrived,

so I ought not
to stay too long.

Ah.

- How was she?

- Well, very well,
and the baby too.

- Two people left
their cards for you

almost as soon as you'd gone,
and a letter.

- Lady Mexborough
and Lady Gordon.

Lady Stuart.

- I thought we might do
some shopping this afternoon,

thought we could trundle
down Piccadilly--

- She wants me to go to them
to dinner at 7:00 tonight.

Uh, yes, of course.

You can help me choose
a coffee pot for Vere.

I never got them
a wedding present.

- Well, where does she live,
this Lady--

- Lady Stuart?
Richmond Park.

- Well, then, you'd have
to get ready now.

It would take you
at least an hour

to drive to Richmond, surely.

- I haven't even unpacked yet.

- Madam...

- But I have, Madame.

- Mary.

What do you think?

Will I do?

Lady Stuart prefers ladies

to wear low-cut gowns
at dinner, so I--

What?

You look worried.

- No, you're...

- Really?

Really?

- Mm.

- Mm.

I'll try not to be
too late back.

- Well, I think that's
unlikely, don't you,

from Richmond?

- All the same, I will endeavor
not to be too late back.

- These people
really excite you, don't they?

- Actually, Mary,
they unnerve me,

but we're not alive, are we,

if we're not trying
to better ourselves?

It's a shame
you don't know them.

You could've come with me.

- Mrs. Sowden, how do?

- Mr. Washington.

Uh, he's inside,
if you're looking for him.

- I am indeed.
Could you tie him up?

- Yeah.

- Mr. Washington's here!

- We're building
a proper staircase.

- Ah, very good.

Well, I've spoken
to our Suzannah,

and Miss Lister--

the younger,
Miss Marian--

has spoken to my wife,
who had some misgivings,

but she's talked her 'round,

and, yes, we'd like
to give you our blessing.

- Oh!

- Congratulations.
- Thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Washington.
- Amy!

Mr. Washington said yes!

- That's the great thing,
having friends in high places.

- Uh, does she know?
Suzannah?

Have you told her?

- No, lad, I thought
you might like to do that.

Uh, she's been helping out
at Mrs. Priestley's day school

in Lightcliffe this afternoon,

so you'll probably
catch her on her way home,

if you set off.

- Nothing about Sam, I take it?

- No.

Oh, except we did have a note

from his brother, Ben,
in Dewsbury.

Yeah, much as we thought,

he'd taken himself
off to Liverpool,

then sailed to America,
and not wanting anything

to do with any of us
ever again.

- Dewsbury?

Well, I suppose only Sam
would be blown enough

to set off for Liverpool
via Dewsbury.

Have you got the note?

- Oh, um...

Oh, this is some weeks since.

One of the little ones
will have scribbled on it

or lit fire with it.
- Oh.

- Anyway, what does it matter?

There's none of us
worse off without him.

- It's curious.

- What is?

- You haven't mentioned
your Miss Walker once

since we got here,

and you were so upset
about her in Leamington.

- If one can't distract
oneself in London--

What is it Dr. Johnson said?

"When you're tired of London,
you're tired of life."

- What is it
about these people?

- Mariana...

- What do you think you'll get
from them, ultimately?

- These are friendships
I cultivated

when I was in Paris.

I'm not going to neglect them.
I enjoy them.

They're interesting people.
They're good people.

They're people who engage
with the world.

Why do you resent it?

- I wonder what
they get from you.

I suppose you amuse them.

- I hope so.
I hope I amuse all my friends.

- Do you ever worry
that they just see you

as some sort of novelty act--

you know,
a clever court jester,

an entertaining freak?

- I suspect you're saying
that to be hurtful,

and we can discuss
why you want to be hurtful,

because really,
your comments say more

about you and your frustration,

your anger at your lack
of place in the world,

than they do about me.

It's interesting,

and possibly something
you don't appreciate,

but the higher up in society
one gravitates,

the more one's singularities

don't seem to matter
quite so much,

the more one is appreciated
for being different,

rather than vilified for it.

- Mm-hmm.

None of them want to sleep
with you, though, do they?

I suppose you resorted
to Miss Walker

because she has money,
at least.

- This isn't attractive,
Mariana.

Just so you know,
it's quite the opposite:

parochial and small-minded.

Par--

- Ma'am,
Mr. Lawton's downstairs.

- Mr. Lawton?

- Shall I show him up?

- Yes, of course.

- So...

I take it you don't want
to come and live with me

at Shibden after all.

- I didn't for a minute think
that you were being serious.

- Of course I was serious.

- And yet, since we've been
here, I've barely seen you

because you've been
so taken up

with these fair-weather friends
you've cultivated.

- I'll leave you
and Charles to it.

I had declined an invitation
to go to the National Gallery

with my "fair-weather friends"

so I could go out shopping
with you.

- Oh, shopping for a coffee pot
for your other friend.

- But seeing as your husband
is here,

I'll leave you to enjoy
his company.

Steph was right.

- Steph?
- About us.

Just too much water has passed
under the bridge.

- You talk to my brother
about me?

- Sometimes.
- When was this?

Oh, when you were
consulting him

about your funny little friend.

- You know, sometimes,
Mariana,

I feel like I barely know you.

Charles, you're still in time
for breakfast.

- Oh, don't let me disturb you.

- No, I've finished.
I'm going out.

Mariana can send downstairs
for fresh tea.

How was the funeral?
How was the mother?

- Oh, as you might imagine.

I would have stayed longer,
but the mother was surrounded

by her sisters and aunts
and nieces,

so I just came to let you know

that I got here
sooner than I thought

and to say that I've hired

a set of rooms at Fentons,

just round the corner,

but you may want to stay here
with Miss Lister.

- Hmm, well,

I'll leave you to it.

Don't leave me.

- Of course people noticed!

- Well, they may have noticed,

but I shouldn't think
it bothered anyone.

- The woman has just lost
her child, for heaven's sake!

It was her people
were bothering about!

I could've done
with you there, in fact!

- What did you tell them?

I hope you didn't
tell them I was ill.

- Madame,

Like banging your head
against a brick wall!

- Don't do that.
You'll damage yourself.

We have a change of plan.

We're going to S--

We're going to Paris.

If we leave here by 1:00,
we can--

- What, today?

- Yes, today!

If we leave here by 1:00,
we can be in Canterbury

by this evening
and at the docks in Dover

by 9:00 tomorrow morning.

So you need to pack

and you need to order
the horses.

- Ann, would you like
some breakfast?

What have you done?

- I don't know.

-Where are the deeds to Shibden?
-I needed to borrow some money.

You're an idiot.

-If I could just sink this--
-But if you can't,

you'll lose Shibden!
We'll all lose Shibden!

You're on the run
from a broken heart.

Perhaps it's time
you got over it.