All language subtitles for Bridgerton.S01E02.iKA+ION10+TRIPEL.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Breathe, Your Grace.

- Push!
- Breathe!

Yes! Yes!

Your Grace, I shall need you to push.

Very good. Yes!

You must breathe, Your Grace.

Someone must tell me something!

- Would you move?
- What are you doing in here, Lady Danbury?

- I am going in, Your Grace.
- No place for a lady in there.

Someone must be with her.
If not her husband, then...

Push.

I must know if I am at
long last to have a son.

Forceps.

- I can see the head. Push!
- Push!

- Tell me!
- Tell him!

- Breathe, Your Grace!
- Yes.

- Push.
- Push, Your Grace! Push!

What is it? What is it?

It is a boy, Your Grace.

I have a son.

I have a son!

Sarah!

I finally gave him...

a son.

- Sarah.
- Doctor!

There is too much blood.

Sarah...

A perfect son!

Simon Arthur Henry Fitzranulph
Basset, the next Duke of Hastings!

Your Grace.

Would you like us to arrange
the duchess's room for you?

No.

That will not be necessary.

There will forever be just two words

that come to this author's mind

the morning after any good party,

"shock" and "delight."

Well, dear reader,
the scandalous accounts

from last night's soiree at Vauxhall

are quite shocking
and delightful indeed.

It has arrived, Your Majesty!

At once! At once!

Emerging, phoenix-like from
the ashes of irrelevance,

is one Miss Daphne Bridgerton.

The illustrious debutante was
seen dancing not once, but twice

with the season's most eligible
and most uncatchable rake,

the Duke of Hastings.

Where are you going
so early, Your Grace?

To promenade.

He is smiling.

The duke rarely smiles.

Daphne has an excellent sense of humor.

She will need it.

Life as a duchess
will have many demands.

Hosting balls,

greeting foreign dignitaries...

Daphne will not merely be in society.

She will be leading it.

I have prepared her
quite well, Lady Danbury.

Mm.

- Eight balls.
- No.

Eight balls.

You do want our plan
to succeed, do you not?

The purpose of this arrangement

is to keep the marriage-minded
mothers of the ton at bay,

not hurl myself directly
into the lion's den.

The purpose of this arrangement

is to ensure I marry
my very first season.

I shall grant you four.

- Six balls.
- Five.

Six. And you must send flowers.

Today.

Expensive ones.

If you were truly courting me,
you'd buy out every florist in town.

If I were truly courting
you, I would not need flowers,

only five minutes alone
with you in a drawing room.

I did not mean...

- Six balls, Your Grace.
- Very well.

Though I shall see about the flowers.

And you must remember,

no one can know about
our little arrangement.

Nor about what happened last
night with Lord Berbrooke.

Ah, yes. How is your hand this morning?

You must know you did nothing wrong.

What I know is that even the
rumor of my being alone with a man,

let alone punching him, will ruin me.

I have no interest in causing
a scandal, Miss Bridgerton.

I should imagine with
you it comes naturally.

Of course I don't
know. How would I know?

Because I can't ask her. Because
I don't know how it happened.

It's disturbing!

What are you girls talking about?

Penelope is wondering
about Miss Thompson.

- Prudence...
- What of Miss Thompson?

- Penelope has inquiries.
- If you do not fall silent...

About Miss Thompson's condition.

- I beg your pardon?
- They know, ma'am.

How did it happen, Mama?
Is there to be a baby?

That will be enough.

My lord, are you hearing this?

What are we going to do?

There's no need for your hysterics.

Why is Miss Thompson to be kept away?

Because her condition is catching.

So, Daphne may be in love. Does
she think it an accomplishment?

What exactly has she accomplished, then?

She certainly did not build that
man or bake him. He simply showed up.

Now he straggles about.

He likes her face, probably.

Perhaps her hair.

Having a nice face and pleasant
hair is not an accomplishment.

Do you know what is an accomplishment?

Attending university!

If I were a man, I
could do that, you know.

Instead, I shall have to stand by
and watch dear Mama appear proud

because some man should like to
admire my sister's face and hair

and fill her up with babies!

Oh, Penelope, you're not
listening to a word I say.

Whoa! Oh!

I know of someone... with child.

Is it your mama?

Is she not advanced in age?

I suppose your father
should still want a boy...

It is not Mama.

It is a maid.

- Which one of your maids is married?
- She is not married.

How did she become with
child if she is not married?

I do not know, but I will find out.

You must.

Otherwise, how can we make
sure it never happens to us?

We have accomplishments to acquire.

Two dances? With a duke?

He was quite taken with
your sister, Hyacinth.

The entire party was, for that
matter. All eyes were on Daphne.

- At least enjoy some toast, dearest.
- I am not hungry, Mama.

Are you certain the entire party

was not simply eyeing
a tear in her dress?

Or a misstep she took
on the dance floor?

I do wonder, Daphne, might we count
on the duke at the Crawford ball?

- I should think it a fair chance.
- What about the Ramsbury ball, Friday?

- And what about the grand picnic?
- We shall see, Mama.

How terrible for Fran

that she'll be off practicing
pianoforte with Aunt Winnie all season

and miss Daphne's
engagement to the duke.

Did Francesca leave for Bath?

How does a lady come to be with child?

- Eloise, what a question!
- I thought one needed to be married.

- What are you talking about?
- Apparently, it's not even a requirement.

Eloise, that is enough.

Oh, well...

Daphne, you were playing
so lovely. Please, do go on.

- I take it the two of you know?
- Do not look at me.

Have you ever visited a farm, El?

I hope you are not encouraging
improper topics of conversation.

Not at all, Mother.

In fact, we were just heading off to...

take our sticks out.

- Colin Bridgerton!
- A round of fencing.

- Miss? Humboldt is coming.
- Humboldt is coming?

- Humboldt?
- Why is Humboldt coming?

Has someone arrived, Humboldt?

Callers for Miss Daphne, ma'am.

But... the duke. You already
have a caller, dearest.

Well, I suppose now I have more.

What is happening?

Coming through!

When you said you will be
taking me to your family...

- Move!
- ... I expected to be the only one present!

I wore my satin knee
breeches for the occasion!

Out of my way at once!

Dear God!

I shall speak to my soon-to-be...

- No, Lord Berbrooke, you must go.
- You said you wanted this handled quickly.

- You gave me your word.
- I intend to keep it.

You're the only man who proposed,
therefore the only one I considered.

This is nothing more
than a terrible confusion.

For now, you must go,
along with everyone else.

- I should like to know what is going on.
- I would like to know the very same.

Perhaps we might begin
with why you chose

to interrupt such an exquisite morning.

Because she is already
engaged to be married.

The duke has already
asked for your hand?

I am not engaged, Mama.

Has anyone truly proposed to me? No.

Have I proposed to anyone
else? I do not believe I have.

- Do not be disrespectful, sister.
- Disrespectful?

I cannot imagine a
greater show of disrespect

than promising me to Nigel Berbrooke.

Anthony, tell me you did not.

- He's a fine choice. I looked into him.
- You promised your sister to that man?

- Not well enough, apparently.
- What?

Does not matter.

I now have many choices
indeed. I do not need...

You have suitors. You do not
have what matters: proposals.

Except, of course, from Lord Berbrooke.

Whatever happened to his
eye? It's quite grotesque.

Daphne has charmed a duke, Anthony.

You must know that changes everything.

Please do not tell me this
rebellion is to do with Hastings.

- They are courting.
- They've danced a couple of times together at a ball.

Colin has done the same with Penelope.

It does not signify...

They promenaded this morning, and
he sent flowers today to both of us.

Expensive ones.

The duke is not a serious suitor.

He will never marry.

I have known him since we were boys.

It is not bravado, or
denial, or even immaturity.

It appears that way to me.

I will not marry Nigel Berbrooke.

I have acted in your
best interests, sister.

One day, you will understand. One
day, you will be most appreciative.

The contract to Berbrooke
will be drawn up,

and you shall marry him.

- Mama...
- You need not worry, dearest.

Once Lord Berbrooke witnesses the
seriousness of the duke's intentions,

he will have no choice but to retreat.

Lord Berbrooke may not
respect a woman's choice,

but he certainly will respect a man's.

Well, and if the duke is not...
serious, I shall have others.

Daphne, I saw the way the two of
you looked at each other last night

and this morning.

There are no others.

There is only the duke.

Did you truly dance with
the Bridgerton girl? Twice?

Remind me again why you
were the first person

I chose to reacquaint myself
with upon my return to town.

Admit it, friend.

You missed me.

- Might I have a word?
- Have as many as you like, Bridgerton.

You'll come down here,
or must I come up there?

My fists have taken enough pounding

from your chin today, Your Dukeship.

Well? What seems to be so urgent?

I'd like to know what was
going through your head

last night and this morning.

You have to be more precise.

A great deal goes on in
a mind as quick as mine.

Are you courting my sister?

- Should I not be courting your sister?
- No.

And I can think of
dozens of reasons why,

starting with, "She is my sister,"

and ending with, "She is
already engaged to be married,"

and then perhaps circling
back to, "She is my sister."

I was unaware of an engagement.
Have the banns been read, then?

I assure you all the formal
preparations are underway.

I arranged everything
with Nigel Berbrooke,

having given him my word.

So you have struck something squarely.

Your problem is that Berbrooke

is an unworthy suitor
for Miss Bridgerton.

He is perfectly decent.

He is never seen going in
and out of brothels, at least.

I even know where he's been the
past few years, right here in London.

As opposed to some gambling
hell, or backwater slum,

or wherever it was you chose to fuck

about for God knows whatever reason.

Nigel Berbrooke is hardly a saint.

You are and have long
been a good friend.

The best, really. But this is my sister.

Think of all that we
have shared as friends.

It is furthest from my
intentions to offend you,

but surely you can understand that
family must come before all else!

Why is he not saying anything?

He is four years old. He
should be able to speak.

He is quite advanced in his letters,

more so than any child I have taught.

He would have to be bloody Shakespeare

with his letters if he cannot speak.

Let us hear it, boy.

Give me a word, a grunt.

- Talk to me, damn you!
- You're scaring him!

And if that is what it should take,
I shall get a sound from him still.

No.

What did you say?

D... D... D... D... Do...

n... n... n... not...

What is he doing?

- He's an imbecile.
- Your Grace...

He is an idiot!

My God.

Do you know how precarious
of a situation we are in, boy?

We have been granted this line.

The monarchy itself has declared it.

But it will only remain ours

so long as we remain extraordinary.

The Hastings name cannot land

in the quivering hands of a half-wit!

Get him out of my sight.

This boy is dead to me.

I found you a few sweets.

I thought you might enjoy them

while everyone else
attends tonight's ball.

You can come in.

I'm sure there's plenty to spare.

I hear they have decided not
to send you home to your papa.

I dare say I am relieved. I can
only imagine how he will react to...

Your condition?

Marina...

may I ask?

How did it happen?

Cake.

Cake?

Our vicar in Somerset was
given to hours-long sermons.

Three, four, sometimes
five hours they last.

I would nearly swoon
from hunger and fatigue.

Until one Sunday,

just when I thought I'd have to
crawl under the pew from exhaustion,

the eldest Crane boy, George...

Sir George Crane sneaked me a
wrapped bundle of cake and biscuits.

The vicar would've had
his head if he knew.

After some time, the bundles
came to include small notes.

We passed tiny missives
back and forth for months.

I've never longed for
church quite so much.

- And where is Sir George now?
- Spain.

He went off to fight with Wellington...

but he continued to write.

See?

So...

your condition, then, it
was brought about by...

Love.

It was love, Penelope.

Your Majesty, the royal physician
has a report on the king.

How is it possible there's not been

a single compelling
betrothal yet this season?

Terribly unexciting!

I could tell you a delicious tidbit
about our former scullery maid.

I don't care about a dish wench.

I wish to be entertained, enthralled.

Should the royal
physician seek to tell me

my husband is dead, Brimsley?

I do not believe so, Your Majesty.

Then tell him I am occupied,

and bring me my stationery at once.

Will it be the rubies
or the pearls, miss?

The pearls, of course.

Mama, perhaps the rubies

would better catch the eye
of even more new suitors?

If I am not to put all
my eggs in one basket,

I must...

collect more...

eggs.

The duke truly has put
your head in a spin.

More like Lord Berbrooke
must spin far away.

- Good heavens. What is it, Mrs. Wilson?
- The queen, ma'am.

- Has she fallen ill?
- Has King George caused her harm?

- Her Majesty's royal stationery.
- She has written to you, my lady.

What does it say, Mama?

I am invited to a private tea
with the queen in two days' time.

Never mind the pearls.

You shall wear the
family diamonds tonight.

Would it pain you to wear
some color, Your Grace?

The London season is already
terribly monotonous as it is.

Must your wardrobe do the same?

- I was told this look is all the rage.
- Certainly not mine.

Take my arm, before you make us late.

So, you are not dead, after all.

My lady, we were not
expecting your visit.

Not once seen in London,
no news of your education,

not a word about you from your father.

Yet here you are, alive and breathing.

Stand up, boy, so I may look at you.

Your mother would weep

to know her dearest friend
was a stranger to her son.

You look just like her.

And a good thing too.

Lady Danbury, my lord.

I see you've not learned any manners.

Have you learned to read,

to write,

to ride a horse, to fence?

Then, why ever are you not in school?

I c... c... can

n... n... not

s... s... speak.

When I was a girl, some centuries ago,

I was afraid even of my own reflection.

I entered a room and attempted
to dissolve into the shadows.

But there is only so long one in
a position such as ours can hide.

I knew I would have to
step into the light someday,

and I could not very well be frightened.

So, instead, I made myself frightening.

I sharpened my wit, my
wardrobe, and my eye,

and I made myself the
most terrifying creature

in any room I entered.

Come.

You can speak.

I understood you well enough.

And I will help you to
overcome this stammer of yours.

But in exchange, you must promise me

that when you step into the light...

you will be worthy of
the attention you command.

Hmm?

A dance, Miss Bridgerton?

I shall need someone else to
seek me a glass of ratafia, then.

Lord Bridgerton...

do me the honor?

Of course, Lady Danbury.

Six balls no more. I
must have you at eight.

- Along with a picnic.
- A picnic?

I am afraid we are required

to fan the flames of our charade.

Oh, because of Lord
Berbrooke, I presume? I heard.

We must make him believe

that you are on the very
precipice of a proposal...

so he will leave me alone.

I should hope I do not
lose my balance, then.

I should hope not, either,

for you will be glued
to my side all evening.

And we must look like we
are enjoying ourselves,

as difficult as that may be.

Yes, quite.

Go dance with your sister.

- Why?
- Because I asked you to!

Perhaps I was unclear.

Is it your wish for me to
insult your sister, Bridgerton?

On the contrary.

You wish your sister to
marry a loathsome toad, then.

Lord Bridgerton.

Forgive the intrusion,

but, if need be,

I will happily restate my intentions
with respect to your sister.

She is a prize I have long coveted
for her beauty, for her grace...

For her powerful right hook?

I must know whether I can count on you

to handle this
misunderstanding, my lord?

I certainly wish to avoid
any kind of embarrassment.

Rather late for that.

Are you too friendly with the duke
or simply intimidated by his rank...

Easy, Berbrooke.

I assured you I will resolve the matter,

a matter which I shall remind
the duke is none of his concern.

Perhaps you're not the
authority on what concerns me,

nor on the matter of Lord
Berbrooke's character.

I shall do my best by
your sister, Bridgerton.

And perhaps even she might learn
to return my affections over time.

Do come off it, Berbrooke.

I presume he failed to mention
how he got that purple eye.

- I was careless with a cabinet door.
- He was careless with his honor.

He attempted something last
night I shan't dignify with words

when your sister planted a facer.

Deservedly so.

My lord, you must know...

Daphne would have told
me if this were true.

Would she?

You will never speak to
my sister again, Berbrooke.

But we are to be married.

You are to be buried if you so
much as look in her direction.

Be grateful you will not take a
punch from yet another Bridgerton.

What has happened? Brother?

You need not worry about
Berbrooke. Sister, it is done.

- You told him?
- I had to say something.

- All will be well, though, I assure you.
- You assure me?

Despite what you and
my brother may think,

I am quite capable of speaking
for myself. You had no right.

- I was trying to help.
- Well, you did not.

All you did was underestimate
Nigel's entitlement.

Not to mention, people are watching.

You cannot assure me of anything.

A crush of an evening, Your Grace.

Would you not agree?

The young lady is as rare
a treasure as there is.

Do try not to bungle it up.

Hmm? Thank you.

And how have you been?

- I think I shall take the air tonight.
- Your Grace.

Only me, Your Grace.

Are you following me, Berbrooke?

I thought this matter settled.

It was settled until you
had to go and spoil it.

I implore you to speak
again with the viscount.

Last night was a mistake, I admit.

A temporary lack of judgment.

You understand that, do you not?

There is not and never will
be any kind of understanding

between the two of us.

- Go home, Berbrooke.
- But you do not need her.

You're a duke.

You already have the money, and
the connections, and the standing.

I need her. Why can you not
just let me have this one?

I think it really ought to
be up to Miss Bridgerton.

When I am buying a horse, I do
not negotiate with the horse.

Should you continue to follow me...

Why, then, have you
not asked for her hand

if you are so fond of her,
and she so smitten with you?

Why have you not already proposed?

Unless you have already had her.

If you have, you must tell me.

For if I had already known she
was loose and damaged, not intact,

- I never would have...
- Stop talking.

I shall not have you question the
lady's unimpeachable honor again.

Yes.

Yes, very well. That is
all I had hoped to hear.

You do not deserve to
breathe the same air as her.

Now, go home.

And you do?

I've heard the stories
of your father, Hastings.

I know how badly he
wanted a son, an heir,

and I know how badly he tried to get one

when it seemed your poor
mother could not deliver.

If anyone were to ever turn a blind eye

to a man's temporary lack of judgment,

it would be you.

The apple should not
fall very far, should it?

Your Grace, may I present Lady Danbury

and Lord Basset?

Well...

this is a most unwelcome intrusion.

I thought Your Grace
might be relieved to know

that your son is alive and well.

Your staff seemed somewhat
surprised by the fact.

What is the point of your visit?

I am receiving high marks
in all of my studies, sir.

I ride, and I fence, and I shoot...

exceptionally well, I am told.

I even...

I...

You are my worst failure.

I beg your pardon?

I am sure you do.

I shan't again.

Might I remind you that this boy
is to be the next Duke of Hastings,

and that he requires whatever
reserves of fatherly nature reside

in that frigid heart of yours?

You may...

so long as I may remind
you of your place,

which is out of my sight

and with your bitch mouth shut.

I wrote to you many times
to let you know I'm...

I'm not...

not dead.

Did you receive my letters?

It is a deep enough wound
to live with the knowledge

that you shall one day inherit Hastings,

but to witness your struggle
is too great an insult.

You are as useless as
your mother proved to be,

so I shall pursue the same
recourse with you as I did with her,

to forget that you ever
sullied these halls.

This author has often thought the heart

a most curious of instruments,

heeding neither reason nor rank.

For what possible explanation
might Miss Bridgerton have

for entertaining the
suit of a mere baron

when she seems to have secured a duke?

Could the debutante's mind
not be the only thing amiss?

The recipe is my own, miss.

I'm certain the duke
should find it appealing.

It does not matter what
the duke thinks, Rose.

He is gallant, is he
not? With refined taste...

Stop.

Is the rouge not to your liking?

No.

It is perfect.

I should like some more.

Let it be known, dear reader,

that if this bizarre behavior
portends yet another scandal,

then be sure that I shall uncover it,

for there is nothing like
an excursion into nature

to lift the spirits
and loosen the tongue.

I hear she may be courting
with bumbling Berbrooke.

Quite a good match for
her, I rather think.

- Mama, might I go play with Eloise?
- A lady does not play, Penelope.

Forgive me, Mama. Might I go
promenade for suitors with Eloise?

Very well, then.

What have you learned from your maid,
the one who is in the family way?

- What happened? How did it happen?
- She said it was love.

Love? That doesn't stand to reason.

No, it certainly does not.

Look at my mama. Three children.

Would anyone presume that
had anything to do with love?

Well, what else did she
say? Was she not frightened?

More...

sad than frightened.

But there may be a chance for her

to have a happy ending yet, I suppose.

She wants to escape to the country,
where she and her love will marry.

Then she has even greater
reason to be frightened.

Once she is married, her life is
over. Scarcely an escape, Penelope.

Oh, that poor maid!

I was not aware, sister,
of what Berbrooke attempted.

I would have helped you.
You should have told me.

Would you have believed me?

Did you only change your
mind about Lord Berbrooke

because another man told you the truth?

You truly esteem me so little?

After I apprised you of my wishes,
and you proceeded to ignore them...

yes, brother, I do.

- You are late.
- Apologies.

Should we rejoin your
family at their camp?

Certainly not.

We must promenade past the group
of men playing their games up ahead.

Whatever happened to your hand?

Boxing.

It's an absurdity that passes
for entertainment amongst men.

- My cuff, button it.
- I beg your pardon?

You need not feel your
evident worry. Berbrooke is...

Have you not heard what
Whistledown writes of me still?

No. Even if you believe Lord
Berbrooke is taken care of,

our ruse is not finished.

I'm still in need of a husband.

Though I am flattered, I'm afraid
I must reject your proposal.

Yes, I know. You are
not the marrying type.

Yet have you considered you are
not the type women wish to marry?

I suppose if I were
forced to take a wife,

you would be the least
objectionable option.

- Is that meant to be a compliment?
- Yes.

But it is no matter, for you wish
to marry for love, do you not?

Of course I do.

They still looking?

Here he comes now.

Bridgerton!

What have you done?

I bring cheerful news, Bridgertons.

I have taken matters in my own hands

and sought a special license for
my wedding to Miss Bridgerton.

- There is to be no wedding.
- I told you. The arrangement is canceled.

Lord Berbrooke, you look
in a great deal of pain.

Shall we continue this in
a more private location?

I require no further conversation.

Though, perhaps I am finally speaking

to the true head of
the Bridgerton house.

For if it were you,

I imagine you would have instructed
your sister to take better care

than to encourage certain attentions

while alone with me on
the Dark Walk at Vauxhall.

Of course, mere hearsay of
such a scandal could wreak havoc

on even the most
influential of families.

What would someone like,
say, Lady Whistledown do

with such unseemly information?

- Is that a threat?
- It is certainly not.

Because in three days, I am to marry.

I have the diamond of the season.

I have the very best
the ton has to offer.

I have a Bridgerton.

And I shall save her, as
well as your entire family,

from the ruin which you
could not protect them.

I look forward to the
union of our great families.

Bridgerton.

Hastings.

I must issue my challenge
to Berbrooke straight away.

- Anthony...
- I assure you

I've been properly
trained in the manner.

You are not to duel with Lord
Berbrooke. Do you understand me?

I do not care what kind of
training you think you may have.

It is illegal, not to
mention positively horrific.

Gentlemen are left with
no other choice, Mother.

When a young woman,
let alone one's sister,

is rumored to be dishonored,
the consequences shall be deadly!

It is no solution.

Should Lord Berbrooke decide
to make good on his threat

before you shoot him dead,
brother, what happens then?

He may decide to open his
tiny mouth at any moment,

and then I shall be ruined...

as will we all.

I must marry Nigel Berbrooke.

It is the only choice.

Rose, can you leave us for a moment?

I have taught you to believe

that marriage is the best
that life has to offer,

and that remains true.

But it is not simply a
partner that marriage provides.

You will have comfort
and a house to tend,

and most importantly, children.

You will throw yourself
into raising your family,

and you will find much joy.

I am certain.

You and Papa...

The two of you were so beautiful, Mama.

That is what I wanted.

That is all I hoped to one day find.

As did I.

Eloise Bridgerton.

Go on, then.

Chastise me.

Spare one for me?

Suppose I desire something different.

- How do you mean?
- Just different.

I watch Daphne prepare for these balls

with all of those dresses
and the many suitors,

and I am exhausted.

Suppose I want a different life,

that I truly believe I am
quite capable of something more,

even when I am not allowed
to have anything else.

Then I would say...

that you're not the only one.

Still on that dance floor
with Miss Bridgerton?

How is she?

She is to marry.

Then you are free to do as you please.

Another.

Your Majesty.

What do you think?

Of the music?

I find it quite beautiful.

Is it Mozart?

I became acquainted with Mr. Mozart
when he was not ten years old.

The boy accompanied me as I sang an
aria, and I declared then and there

that he should become one of
the finest composers in Europe.

And certainly you were right.

I'm rarely wrong about such
matters. Do you know why?

Because when I choose to
extend to someone my favor,

I expect them to make good on it.

- Your Majesty, is this about...
- Brimsley!

Fresh snuff.

That one is a terrible gossip.

If we were to speak
freely in his presence,

before long, the whole of
England would know our business.

I see.

I suppose you do see.

I expected a great
future for your daughter

upon her entrance into society.

A future with someone
like a duke, perhaps.

A pairing like that...

Well...

it would certainly be
most enchanting indeed.

As I was saying,

the glow of success benefited
not only the young maestro.

Surely the entire Mozart family
would have felt the repercussions,

had their boys stayed
forever in Salzburg.

Would you not agree?

Why, yes. Yes, I would.

But what are we to do, ma'am?

We are to invite Lady Berbrooke
over for tea, Mrs. Wilson, at once.

- Nigel is my one and only child.
- Mm-hmm.

Very special boy, indeed.

In fact, I often say God
did not bless me with another

because perfection had
already been achieved.

My goodness.

Mm.

Not every lady can
be so blessed, I know.

Miss Bridgerton...

allow me to set my eyes upon you.

Mm.

Certainly healthy.

Even if your countenance is a bit drawn.

- It was a terribly late evening.
- All the excitement, I suppose.

Yet you must try harder, dear.

My Nigel is quite discerning.

He already turned away many
more handsome debutantes, saying,

"Mother...

... I prize accomplishment over beauty."

Can you believe it?

Ooh! Oh!

That mistress of yours is going
through the biscuits quick.

Do not worry, Rose. I shall handle it.

Housekeepers...

They believe themselves
the sun and the moon,

when in truth, it is us lady's
maids that do all the hard work.

I have one just like her.

You are quite fortunate, though.

How troublesome could a household be

with only Lady Berbrooke and
young Lord Berbrooke to look after?

Oh, you have no idea.

You ate but not one
bite at tea, my dear!

A young lady must be well fed
if she is to bear children.

Kippers on rye every
morning worked wonders for me

when I conceived my Nigel.

What have you found?

What is going on?

You could not think I'd
ask that woman for tea

without a thought for you, could you?

The help hears
everything, as we all know.

She has heard a good deal, in fact.

Lord Berbrooke has a
boy by one of his maids

that he refused to provide for.

Sent the maid and child
away to live off scraps.

- Horrible man.
- Horrible enough for us to be rid of him, let us pray.

Well, he... He will only deny it.

And who will believe a group
of women over a man's word?

Perhaps no one.

But they will if Lady Whistledown
does. So we shall do what women do.

We shall talk.

And the only reason he married her

is because his père squandered the
accounts on some scheme in America.

Oh, mon Dieu.

Is it not the most lurid
story of the season?

Perhaps not the most lurid.

Well, every baron has a bastard.

A bastard he sent away
before the miss even popped?

You don't say. Well, we
must tell Jennie and Mary.

It has come to this author's attention

that the ton is abuzz
with a most sordid tale.

It is said one cannot
judge a book by its cover.

But in the case of the
bumbling Baron Berbrooke,

it seems his displeasing
appearance is quite an apt metaphor

for the state of
affairs in his household.

I would not be surprised

if Lord Berbrooke were called away

to the country on alleged business...

Business which, perhaps,

might involve sending
some much overdue funds

to one former maid and young boy,

who we can only hope
takes after his mother.

I have heard talk that
Berbrooke has left town.

I think this solution to our
problem did not come about by chance.

I am resolved to handle matters
differently in the future.

Or perhaps not at all.

I know society has dictated your
present role in this family, Anthony,

but with Daphne officially out, I
assure you, I am more than capable.

This is for Daphne.

Tulips.

They symbolize passion.

A most appropriate hem for your sister

when she decides to marry the duke.

Perhaps your bride would like the same.

Good night, Mother.

Surely your mistress does
not plan on confining me

to this bedroom forever.

I should think one has only herself
to blame for her confinement, miss.

Eloise.

Uh... Did you need something?

No.

Yes.

I am...

... glad this business with
Nigel Berbrooke is over for you.

Thank you.

You hear stories about
appalling arrangements,

and hopeless endings, and...

Well, it is all very frightening.

- Eloise, you mustn't worry about...
- Are you not frightened, too, sister?

Of marriage? Of... children?

I find children to be delightful.

Though, you are not
currently proving my point.

Surely you've not forgotten
what happened to Mama?

Her screams that night.

You tried to hide it by singing to me,

but her voice...

it rattled the windows.

I hear them sometimes
still in my dreams.

She almost died...

mere months after Papa.

Of course I have not forgotten.

Of course...

I am frightened.

I dare say I would be a fool at
this point not to be terrified.

You remember correctly
that Mama had a...

perilous night.

But at dawn, the world had Hyacinth,

and we are all the richer for it.

Yes, Eloise, there...

are perhaps darker turns in these woods

than we've been taught to expect.

There is light to be found at their end.

And I know...

one day...

we both will find it.

It must be taxing.

What?

The game of pretend that you
feel you must endlessly maintain.

Good evening.

You should not have lost your
temper with Lord Berbrooke.

You should know something
about me, Miss Bridgerton.

I will not tolerate a bully.

And you should know something
about me, Your Grace.

I will not have this go wrong.

You mean our ruse?

It is more than a ruse now.

It is more than a negotiation.

This is not just about
finding the best match

to impress Lady Whistledown...

or the queen, or any member of the ton.

This is about a life,
Your Grace. My life.

I must finally take charge of it.

I cannot afford to do otherwise.

So I shall not have this go wrong.

If you are not in agreement,
then you should tell me now.

I shall agree...

on one condition.

- You do not understand, Your Grace...
- That you call me Simon.

If we are truly to seem to be courting,

if this is to be a match like no other,

you should call me by my name.

Very well...

Simon.

Is there something funny about my name?

No, no, no.

It is a perfectly fine name.

Oh, perfectly fine?

Very well... Daphne.

I wish to find a husband...

so that I may have a family, children.

Then let us find you a husband.

May I have the pleasure?

Of course.

The two of you certainly make
a captivating match, Your Grace.

Whatever is bothering you?

N... nothing at all, Lady Danbury.

My... My son.

You have returned to
take your rightful place.

My heart may be failing,

but I assure you,

it swells with pride,

knowing the duke you have grown into...

... and the great Hastings
name shall continue.

Listen to me very closely...

for I have only returned
to do but one thing...

... to make you a vow...

the only vow I will
ever make in my life.

I will never marry.

I will never sire an heir.

The Hastings line will die with me.

Are my words clear
enough for you, Father?

Speak, you fucking monster.

Speak!

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
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