All language subtitles for Gentleman Jack S01E04 iNTERNAL 1080p WEB H264-MEMENTO

Would you like
to come for dinner?

And then...
stay all night?

Miss Lister's been playing
some impenetrable game.

My brother and I thought that
you might be more reasonable.

Oh, you mean softer?

Now you know me better.

-She's a fella.
-You're drunk, Sowden.

Thomas, I want you
to take your father home,

and then I want you
to come back.

You're going nowhere!

You said a hungry pig will eat
anything and everything.

Miss Walker might make
a companion for me.

I don't want you to be hurt.

You're playing with fire.

- I have defended that woman

ever since
she was in her teens.

Ever since she began staying

with her aunt and uncle
at Shibden Hall,

I have defended her
against the vilest insults

and innuendo,
through thick and thin,

because I never once thought
any of it was true,

because I was fond of her.

And, of course,
now I realize only too vividly

what a laughingstock
I've been.

- Good Lord.
- I told them.

I said,
"You're playing with fire."

Your cousin laughed as I left.

I could hear her.
She laughed.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

Do you think I could make up
something like that?

Two men were hanged

outside York Jail
just three months ago...

- I know.

- In front of a crowd
of 6,000 people

for unnatural acts.

- I know.
I know that.

You mustn't repeat it
to anyone, any of it, ever.

- Why?

- Because you can't
let yourself,

either of us,

or my cousin, Miss Walker,

be associated
with that sort of talk.

- I didn't do anything.

- Anne Lister is clever.

She'll twist it.
She'll turn it.

She'll make it reflect more
badly on you than on herself.

She could run rings

around Lord Grey
and his cabinet

if she got anywhere near them.

- She did try to deny it,

even in the room,

as though it was all
in my imagination.

- The best thing,
the only response,

is to be rather more cool
in future,

to establish some distance,

and certainly not
to refer to them in company.

- The thing is,

about not mentioning it
to anyone,

I was at Stoney Royd
a few days ago,

and so I may have mentioned it

to elderly Mrs. Rawson.

I did...mention it

to elderly Mrs. Rawson.

And Mrs. Stansfield Rawson,
she was there, too,

with Miss Catherine
and Miss Delia Rawson.

And then to your Aunt Ann
at Cliffhill.

So I'm afraid...

yes,

it has been mentioned.

To York?
- Yesterday.

In your cousin's carriage.

- Both of them?

- Why?

- To consult a doctor
about her spine

and her...nerves.

Nervy...nerve business.

- She has a doctor here.

- Miss Lister's line
was that Dr. Belcombe

is "no provincial quack."

- Dr. Kenny is

a very properly trained
medical man.

- It's an excuse to get her
away from her family

and on her own.

- The unspoken, William,

is not always the unknown.

She'll have her in Paris
before we know it.

- Would you like a posy?

- Uh-oh.

Dr. Belcombe will be here
in 20 minutes.

- Oh.
- Oh, Ann, no.

- She's getting dressed.

- It was good of you to see her
at such short notice, Steph.

- Ah.

Well, I've examined her,
and we've had a good long chat

about her family
and so forth.

I can give her something
for the pain in her back,

but its root cause
is nervous hysteria.

- Does that mean
it's all in her head?

- That's not to dismiss it,
of course,

and I've explained this
to her.

Mental suffering
is just as acute

as physical suffering,
but of course,

we can't see it in the same way

that we can see
physical suffering,

so we tend to dismiss it.

She's had a lot of sadness
to contend with in her life.

We all cope with things
in different ways, of course.

Some people are better equipped
to deal with it than others.

- Hmm.

Tell me what I can do to help.

- I think you're doing it,
Anne.

I think you're probably
the best thing

that's ever happened to her.

She says she feels
like a fraud now she's here,

because she's felt
so different

since you befriended her.

Did you say you were thinking
of traveling abroad?

- Yes.

- Well, then if you
can persuade her,

it'll do her more good
than anything I can prescribe.

- Oh, she wants to go.

- Well, then
that's half the battle.

Have you heard
from my sister lately?

- Yes.

Yes, I wrote to her,

told her we were coming
to see you.

- What scintillating chitchat
from Miss Lister?

- Oh, she's in York.

She's taking someone
to see Steph--

one of her neighbors,
a Miss Walker.

- A Miss Walker?

Of course.

Is there no end
to Miss Lister's selflessness?

- Must've shaken you, William.

The accident
above the hall the other week.

- Yes, ma'am.
It wasn't pleasant.

- The little boy lost a leg.
Did you hear?

Sounds like
the idiot driving the gig

didn't know how to handle
the thing.

- Couldn't say, ma'am.
It all happened so fast.

- You were facing him,
as I understand it,

as he approached.

- Like I say,

it was all over and done with

before we knew
what was going on.

- James Mackenzie told me
that just after it happened,

you said you recognized
the man driving the gig

as Mr. Christopher Rawson.

They're my tenants--
the Hardcastles.

They're my people,

and I'd like to know the truth.

- Both my brothers work
for Mr. Rawson, ma'am,

and with him
being magistrate himself, it...

Well, it's not as if
it'd even do any good, is it?

- There are other magistrates
in Halifax.

- Oh, aye, and they all p--

piss in the same pot.

Anyway, I could
have been mistaken.

Could've been anyone.

- Ah.

- Is Eugénie all right?

- Oh, she gets travel-sick.
She's useless.

- Oh.

- Thomas?

- Mr. Washington.

- How's things at home?

- Uh, same.

- Any sign of him?

- Nothing, no.

- How's your mother?

It's a heck of a thing,

a fellow walking out
on his family like that.

- I just wish we knew what was
happening with tenancy,

and then we'd know
what we were doing, sir.

- All right, we'll have to see

if Miss Lister's had
any more thoughts on the matter

when she's back from York,
won't we?

- Dr. Belcombe
was very pleased with me...

- Very pleased.
- And sees no reason

why I shouldn't make
a full recovery.

- A full recovery.
- And not only did he say

there was no reason
whatsoever

why I shouldn't travel abroad,

but he said
it would do me good.

- Well, Dr. Kenny said exactly
the same thing weeks ago.

- Can you not see a difference
in Miss Walker already,

Miss Walker?

- Well, everyone has been
asking where you were:

the Priestleys, the Rawsons,

Mr. and Mrs. Edwards
at Pine Nest.

Everyone's been talking
about you.

- We were only gone
three days.

- Yes, but it wasn't like you.
That was the anxiety.

- I feel...

I feel different.
I feel better.

And come January,

our plan is to travel,

first across to the Continent,

then through Switzerland,
and then on to Rome.

- For Easter,
for the carnival.

- And then back to England
and then up to Scotland

to see Elizabeth
and the children.

- You must never forget

your brother died in Naples.

- Well, that's not...

Italy's--

I've been several times,

and I've never once felt
the least bit queasy.

- Quite the opposite,
in fact.

The climate at Easter
will be the perfect tonic.

- It appears that you have
my niece

quite under your spell,
Miss Lister.

- Oh?

I rather think
she has me under hers.

- Aren't you delighted
to see me so well, Aunt?

- Well, I'm afraid
I must burst your bubble.

There's a letter for you
on the desk.

It arrived two days ago.

I'm sorry.
I opened it.

It was misdirected here,

and I didn't realize
it wasn't for me.

- Who?

- It's your friend
Mrs. Ainsworth.

- Ann.

Ann, are you all right?

- Your Uncle Edward's
made some inquiries,

and apparently, she was thrown
out of an open carriage.

- Here, here.
Shh, shh, shh.

- But they--
they're coming here.

They--they're coming here
next week!

- Do you have any brandy
or smelling salts?

- They're burying her
on Monday.

- Well, she's back from York,

but Miss Walker's had
bad news--

a bereavement--

so she's staying over there
with her tonight.

- Oh, dear.

- Thank you, Eugénie.

And before I forget,
before she does come back,

just to warn you,

after you went off
to Market Weighton,

I did--I might have...

The name of Mr. Abbott

may have escaped my lips.

- What?
- In front of Anne.

- Oh!

- No, it was an accident.
It slipped out.

I played it down.
And I'm sure--

- There's nothing wrong with

you seeing someone, Marian.

If you want to invite someone
to tea,

you invite someone to tea.

- But, Jeremy,
he makes carpets.

- He's a founder member

of the Joint Stock Halifax
Banking Company.

- Our father's father's father

was a wool merchant.

She forgets that.

She conveniently forgets that
when she's doing her,

"15 generations

"and between
two and three centuries,

all the way back
to Charlemagne."

Trade.

We are descended from trade,

just like the rest.

Love, you all right?

- Come here. Shh.

Come on, let's sit you down.

I'll get you some tea...

with a bit of sugar.

Let's help ourselves
to a bit of sugar for you, eh?

- What's up?

I'll tell you later.

I keep thinking he's gonna
come through that door

and murder us all.

- Yeah.

- I'm sure he has it in him.

Amy's been crying again.

- Why?

- Oh, happen she misses him.

God knows why.
I don't.

Only I wish we knew
what we were doing.

- Well, she's supposed
to be back from York today,

Miss Lister,
so I'll try and talk to her

when I see her.

- She'll no'an help us.

- You don't know.

- You know, what I can't fathom

is why he'd not take
any of his things, eh?

There's a brand-new
pair of boots

under that bed upstairs.

And his cart.

Why'd he not go over
to the big house

and fetch his cart, eh?

- Happen he's walked
to Liverpool,

sneaked on board a packet,
and sailed to America.

He once told me
that's what he'd do,

if he could.

- When?

- Years ago.

- When?
- Years ago.

No, we'll not see him again.

We were nothing
but an inconvenience to him.

Years ago.

And I never found
another one.

But...

job...

my leg...

So I'm stuck here,
jack-of-all-trades.

Still...

It's nice to belong somewhere.

Oh, no.

Get it all out.

- What's happened?

- Do you want to talk
about her...

Mrs. Ainsworth?

- She was...

kind.

- You must have been
very close to her.

- Why do you say that?

- Because you're so upset.

- Not close like we are,

if that's what you're thinking.

It's death.

It's anything to do with death.

Terrifies me.

- I wonder

if we should pay a house call
on Mr. and Mrs. Priestley.

- What?

- Now, this morning,
first thing.

- Why?

Because...

if we skulk and avoid her,

it'll look like we have
something to hide,

something to be ashamed of,
and we haven't.

We don't.

We're just
two respectable women

who choose to spend time
together, and that's all.

- She saw us...

kissing.

- She didn't.

Well, not exactly,
but the point is...

if she says anything
to anyone,

which she may or may not do--
who knows--

if we carry on as normal,

as if we have nothing to hide,

it'll undermine anything
she might go around saying,

whereas if we avoid
polite company,

it might reinforce the idea
that what she says

has some truth in it.

- Must we do it now, today?

- I always think it's better
to broach these things head-on

and deal with them.

You could tell them
how you got on in York.

Really, they ought
to be delighted.

- So will Mr. Ainsworth

still come for his meeting
with the church trustees?

- We haven't heard
anything else.

- He could always stay here
with us

rather than with you,
if that's helpful.

Maybe I should write to him.

As one of the church trustees,

I will be meeting
with him anyway.

- Thank you.

- And make the offer.

- Such sad news.

What a shame you didn't see
Miss Walker

when she'd just returned
from York.

She was a different person
altogether.

Weren't you?

- Dr. Belcombe was...
very pleased with me.

- And sees no reason
why she shouldn't make

a full recovery.

And his prescription
is to travel,

so...

That went well.

- Did it?

- Well enough.

Listen, I've got to get back
to Shibden.

- Oh.

- I've got things to do,
people to see.

Morning.
- Morning, ma'am.

- Marian.

How was Market Weighton?

- Pleasant.

- Good.

- How's Miss Walker?

- Very...

Well, she was,
and then this bereavement

knocked her for six.

- Jeremiah Rawson's
here to see you again.

- Hmm.

I've got to go into Halifax.

- I've got to go into Halifax.

- I'm going down a pit.

- I'll come with you.

Not down the pit,
just into Halifax.

- I hear you've been to York.

- Is that of interest to you?

- Only that it
would have been helpful

to have sorted this business
before you went.

- To you, perhaps.

To me, as I keep telling you,

it's a matter of indifference.

The trip was all
a bit last-minute.

I'm thinking of buying
a new gig.

Am I right in thinking
your brother

bought a new gig recently?

- Yes, yes, he did.

He didn't like it,
so he sent it

back to the manufacturer
in Liverpool.

- Not a company
he'd recommend, then.

Is there a name,

so I can avoid it?

- Oh, uh...
I can find out.

- Would you?
- But it would be very nice

if we could settle
about the coal.

- When was that?
- What?

- When he sent it back.

- Four, five weeks ago.
Why?

- So, like you,

I was at a loss to account

for the misunderstanding
between us.

Why you imagine I'd sell
both beds at that price

is a mystery
after I'd adumbrated

my calculations so deftly.

- But with the price
being so steep,

I imagined it did cover
both beds.

- No.

So I value the upper bed,
if you want it,

at £160 per acre.

However, I'm prepared
to make an abatement on this

and sell it to you at £139
and ten shillings

per acre to show good faith,

but the price of the lower bed
remains the same.

I realize you'll have
to consult your brother,

but I would like an answer
before the end of the week

so I can offer it
to the other applicant,

if that's what it comes to.

- Miss Lister,
you do know

that my brother
isn't someone to mess with,

don't you?

- Are you threatening me?

- No, I'm not.

I'm telling you
for your own good.

- I'm sorry

that we argued
before I went away.

I--I said things I regret,

and I apologize.

- I don't like it when we argue
any more than you do.

- No, I know that,
and I'm sorry.

- I know you think
it doesn't affect me,

but it does.

- That's why I'm apologizing.

- It upsets my equilibrium.

- I know.
It upsets mine too,

and I'm sorry.

I'm going to Jackson's
for flannel to make drawers.

Can I get you any?

I've got a new pattern
with an improved gusset.

I can make you some
if you like.

- Actually, I am planning
on traveling again in February

with Miss Walker,

Aunt Anne's health permitting.

So yes,

new drawers would be useful.

- You've become great friends,
you and Miss Walker.

- Hmm.

If she were to move in with me
at Shibden

as my companion,

how would you feel about that?

- Would she leave Crow Nest?

She says so.

She rattles around in it
on her own.

- Oh, I'd be delighted.

- Would you?
- Of course!

I like her,
the little I've seen of her,

and...I'd be pleased for you

to be more settled.

- Thank you, Marian.

- There was one thing
I did say

before I went off
to Market Weighton

which may have overstepped
the mark

but, at the same time,
wasn't entirely inaccurate.

I believe Aunt Anne has
mentioned Mr. Abbott to you.

Anne. Anne!

- His name
did escape her lips, yes.

- I'd like to invite him
to tea.

Father says I can.
In fact...

- Really?
- He'd like me to.

- Well, then do you need
my permission?

- It was more
your blessing and...

an undertaking
that you'd be civil to him.

- You'll find me no obstacle

to something you have
very much at heart, Marian,

as long as it's
an intelligent choice,

but one would only be doing
one's duty as an elder sister

to question the pedigree
of a man who makes rugs.

- Anne!

- Miss Lister!
- Mr. Holt.

- I have the figures
for you, ma'am,

both for sinking a new pit
at the top of the hill

and for reopening Listerwick.

- What's that?

- That's just
an occupational hazard.

The ceiling's low in places,

and they will forget
their caps,

and then they graze
their skulls.

Either that, or they bust
their ankles

letting the carts
catch up with their heels.

- How old is...

- That one?
Uh...

pfft, don't know.
Six, seven, eight.

It's better
if they don't get too big.

Track's narrow in places
and low,

so it's just easier
for them all round

if they don't fill out
too much.

Are you still determined

to go down there yourself,
ma'am?

- Keep your 'ead down, mister.

- How many people
do you employ?

- This pit?
14.

Five men, three women,
six boys,

except some of them are girls.

- And how do the shifts work?

- Two 12-hour shifts, ma'am.
Round the clock.

Demand is insatiable,

and of course, down here,
it don't matter

whether it's 10:00
in the morning

or 10:00 at night.

- And that model
would work for my pit?

- Once it's sunk.
This is a horizontal shaft.

Yours would be vertical
with a winding engine,

which is what makes
your setup costs

that much more expensive.

- £2,000 is a lot of money.

- It is indeed, ma'am,

but you'll be laughing
when profits come in

and for years to come.

- So there I am,
knee-deep in water,

and it struck me that I ought
to add another clause

to the lease with the Rawsons

to stop them from turning
the water back on me

when they've finished
loosening my coal.

- Might I ask, Miss Lister,

what is your strategy

as regards this business
with the Rawsons,

just to be clear?

- I want them to know
that I know

that they've been stealing
my coal,

even if we can't name it
as such...

- Hmm.

- And for them
to pay for it fairly,

and I want them to know
that I'm not someone

who will turn a blind eye
or be intimidated,

and as soon as I can,
I shall get down there myself

and deal with them properly,

but that's going to take time.

- Christopher Rawson
is a bully and an opportunist.

He's certainly no gentleman.

Doesn't surprise me

they've been stealing
from your beds.

Oh, Jeremiah's decent enough,
left to his own devices,

but he's terrified
of Christopher.

If anyone's equal to him,
it's you.

But, uh, he will play dirty.

- Word has it that he caused
the accident above the hall

where the boy lost his leg.

Five weeks ago,
he had a new gig,

and then he decided
very suddenly

that he didn't like it anymore,
sent it back

to the manufacturer
in Liverpool.

- No witnesses?

- None that will testify.

Ah.

Sadly, sending a gig
back to the manufacturer

isn't really proof
of very much.

- No.

Oh, and another thing,

nothing to do
with Christopher Rawson--

not that I know of.

I've heard
a tenant disappeared.

- Mm.

- He's left his family behind.

Samuel Sowden,
over at Upper Sowden Farm.

I need to know what to do
about the tenancy.

- Miss Lister.

- Is she--
- No, ma'am.

She's in the library.

- What's the matter?

I came as quickly
as I could.

- I...

I've had a letter from...

Mr. Ainsworth.

- And?

- An account
of Mrs. Ainsworth's last day

and how kind she was
to some poor people,

and then...

the accident.

I think he wants to marry me,

and I think he wants
to propose to me.

- Can I see it?

- What?
- The letter.

- Oh, no.

What do you mean, you think

he's going to propose to you?

- The intention's clear.

- Can I not see it?

- It's marked private.

- Well, I won't tell him.

Well, he's quick off the mark,

with his wife not yet buried.

An offer of marriage--
it's not something

to be sniffed at
or treated lightly,

and a curate too,
a man of God!

What more could
any woman want?

- You're cross.
- Am I?

- I don't--
I don't want to marry him.

I want to be with you.

- Well, then...

No, it's...

An offer of marriage

isn't something
to be sneezed at.

And obviously,

it needs some consideration.

A clergyman's wife.

And who knows?
A mother...

in the fullness of time

and then maybe one day
a grandmother,

and then you really
would have fulfilled

your destiny on this planet
as a woman.

- I...

I've been so in love with you.

I always have been,

ever since the first time
I saw you

when I was 18--younger!

I think the first time
I ever saw you, I was 14,

and then I knew then.

I just--I knew, and...

It's just utterly clear
to me now.

So often,
whenever I've thought of it,

I've just felt a repugnance

towards forming any sort
of connection with a man,

but I...

She was a lot older than him.

- Sorry?

- Mrs. Ainsworth,
she...

she was 15 years older
than him, and...

Once or twice,
she would joke--

at least I always thought
it was a joke--

that she would die first,
and then...

who would look after Thomas?

And she'd say,
"It'll have to be you, Annie."

- Why won't you let me
see the letter?

- Because...

- What?

- I told you,
it's marked private.

Anne?

- You're going to have
to make a decision.

There's clearly more to it

than you're able
or willing to tell me.

So he will require an answer,

I assume, as much as I do
to this alleged proposal.

- No, he hasn't
actually asked me yet.

- No,

but for some reason,
it would appear

to be on the cards,

and it would be good
to have an answer ready,

so...

Ah, today's Friday.

I propose you have the weekend
to think it over, and...

instead of giving me
your yes or no

on the 3rd of April,

I'd like it first thing
Monday morning,

and then we both of us
know what we're doing.

- I can't make
such a big decision so quickly!

Do you think
I should marry him?

- That...

Only you can decide
something like that.

- Most people

would think I'd be foolish
not to at my age,

wouldn't they?

Yes.

Yes, they would.

- Would we still
see each other?

- No.

I think if you take him,
you'd have to give me up.

- No, but not as friends.
Only as this, Anne.

- How could we go back
to common friendship now?

No.

You must think it through
carefully,

because you'll have to live
with the consequences,

whichever way you decide.

We both will.

And there'll be no going back
on it once it's made,

but I think it would be
very unlikely

that we could remain friends

after all
that's passed between us.

I think it would be
too painful.

- Why do I have
to decide on Monday?

Because we have to know
what we're doing.

I have to know what I'm doing.

I behaved as well as I could.

Though perpetually saying
to myself,

"Well, I care not
how she decides;

"I care not much for her;

the whole thing
was only ever a game,"

as I left, she hung upon me

and cried and sobbed aloud
at parting,

saying, "I hope we shall meet
under happier circumstances."

"Well," said I to myself
as I walked off,

"a pretty scene we have had,

"but surely I care not much,

"and I shall take
my time of suspense

"very quietly
and be easily reconciled

either way."

Don't do this to me.

Don't you dare do this
to me again.

- Jeremiah tells me

you've been letting Miss Lister

run rings around you
over her coal.

Christopher, is it true?

- No, Mother, it isn't.

- That's not exactly
how I worded it, Mother.

- Maneuvering you
into paying silly prices.

- Trying to
and failing miserably.

- She's very clever.
- Oh, we know she's clever.

- That's why I like her,

her company, her conversation,

even though she is
a bit of an oddity.

She's been to so many places,

done so many things.

Most women are dull
and stupid...

but not her.

- Well, happily,

I'm just as clever as she is,

and I have the measure of her.

- Oh, I doubt it!

- Cake?

- She's threatening
to sink her own pits,

so she has us over a barrel
as regards price,

given what's gone on.

- You haven't been
stealing her coal, have you?

- What?

- Nothing.

- What did Stansfield say?

- Nothing, Mother.

- I'm fast coming
to the conclusion

that she's bluffing
about sinking her own pits,

because how could she
possibly afford it?

And this latest demand
is just nonsense.

I'm tempted to tell her

where she can shove
her upper bed--

sorry, ladies--
and call her bluff.

- Well, perhaps
her little friend

will help her.

She's got plenty of money.

- Sorry, what?
Who?

- Miss Walker,
your cousin!

They went to York together,
apparently,

and now they're inseparable.

- Really?
- Next stop, Paris.

Maybe Miss Walker
will let Miss Lister

dip into her purse.

Whatever else she's been
letting her dip into.

So sorry, ladies.

- Me and the lads
generally stop

for us dinners about now,
Miss Lister,

if that's all right.

- Yes, of course it is.

- Jamie, lad.

- I'll just do this,
Mr. Booth.

- Aye, good lad.

He's a good lad.

You should have
a drop of beer,

if nowt else,
for your dinner, ma'am.

You've been digging
like the devil.

- Mm...

Need to talk to you

about you and Eugénie.

Really is an inconvenience.

- It's all off.

- Sorry?

- It's not happening,

so we're all
all right.

- Oh.
- Yep.

- What happened?

- Nothing. Just, uh...

You know.

'Course, as you said,
it were a step down for her.

It would never have done,

and she realized that

when she got back
from York, so...

- She was very pale in York...

and tearful.

I pretended not to notice,
but...

Was she pregnant?

- Well, it wasn't mine.

- It was George's, wasn't it?

I thought they were
getting on very well

in Hastings and in Langton,
and then...

Good Lord.

I thought she was preoccupied
with something

when we got back here, but...

I just couldn't decide
if it was just...

you know, Shibden.

I felt sorry for her.

- In a new place and
a load of unfamiliar faces,

and Mrs. Cordingley said--
- Cordingley?

- She confided
in Mrs. Cordingley,

with her having
a bit of French,

and we none of us knew
what to do to help her--

- Everyone?

Sorry,
all of the servants knew?

- And Eliz--Mrs. Cordingley
said what she needed,

what Eugénie needed,

was a man with
a good Christian heart

to step in
and do the decent thing.

- Oh, John.

- Well, it weren't entirely
a selfless thing.

I was--I am...

a bit smitten with her.

- You do realize you're
too good for her, don't you?

- Well, it's often the way

when you feel like that
about someone, isn't it?

It's very rare
that both parties feel

exactly the same
about each other.

- I don't know.

I think sometimes
a thing can start that way,

but then--

- Will you--
you won't dismiss her,

will you?

- Hmm.

Well,

proper French lady's maids
don't grow on trees,

certainly not in Halifax.

- I don't know
what shocks me most,

the thing itself

or Cordingley
not saying anything to me.

- Are you all right, ma'am?

- I'm always all right.

- Ma'am!

There you are.
- Hello.

- Hello, John.
- Mr. Washington.

- Young Thomas Sowden
has asked me

to ask you if you've had
any further thoughts

about their tenancy

since his father took off.

- Yes.

I have.

- Come on.
Come on.

- Mom.

- Mrs. Sowden?
- Yes.

- It's a letter from my father,
Mr. Washington,

on behalf of Miss Lister
about your tenancy.

- I like your pigs,
Mrs. Sowden.

I'd like to farm pigs meself.

- Just ignore her.
She talks too much.

- Can either of you girls read?

Thomas?

Thomas, there's a letter
from Mr. Washington

about the tenancy.

- Hello!

- Hello.

- Hello.

- Would you mind?

- "Dear Thomas and Mrs. Sowden,

Miss Lister confirm"--

Can never read
his spidery writing.

Um, "Miss Lister confirmed
this afternoon,

"following a conversation
with her lawyer, Mr. Parker,

"in Halifax yesterday,

"that if Samuel
has not returned to the farm

"within a period of two months,

"as of today's date,

"she will be obliged
to terminate

"her agreement with him

as regards to the tenancy
of the farm."

- What?

- Hold on.

"At that point, however,
she also"...

What?

- "Confirms
that she will offer"...

- "Confirms that she will offer

"a six-month tenancy
to you, Thomas,

at the same price
your father pays presently."

- Can I go and look
at your pigs now, Mrs. Sowden?

- Of course you can.
Amy, you take this young lady--

- Eliza and Suzannah.

- Well, you take Eliza
to look at the pigs.

And, well, I can offer you
a cup of tea

and a bit of cake,
both of you.

- That's very kind.
Thank you.

So no sign, then,
of Mr. Sowden?

- No, nothing.

- We're glad he's gone.

- I'd take advice, obviously,

but as well
as reopening Listerwick,

I'd like to sink a new pit
here, above Conery Wood.

What?

- I've told you before,
it's a nasty business.

I wish you wouldn't--

- Hinscliffe has heard
Rawson's men

in my upper bed here,

which means they're not
just stealing coal;

they're stealing
significant amounts of coal.

What am I supposed to do,
take it lying down,

let them take what they want
from my land

and not do anything?

- Is it costed?

- Just over £2,000.

I believe I can get it
to just under.

- I can't lend you
more than £450.

- Really?

- And how will you
get the rest?

- Well, it's not impossible
that...

Miss Walker and I have become
very close, and if things...

How would you feel

if she were to move
in here with me as...

- For Miss Lister.

- My companion?

- I'd be very happy for you.

It's time you settled.

- All right, thank you.

- Well, then...

it's not impossible
that she might be in a position

to lend me some money.

- Ma'am, the servant
from Crow Nest just called

with this for you.

- Thank you.

- My love,

I find it impossible
to make up my own mind.

I promised you an answer,

and I'm at your mercy.

I have written
the words "yes" and "no"

on a slip of paper
and put them in a purse.

If you still think it better
to decide today,

the paper you draw out first
must be the answer.

Whatever shall be the event,

I shall always remain
your faithful and affectionate

Ann Walker.

- I would have known
what to do with a yes or a no,

but this?

What am I supposed to do
with this?

I mean, do you think,
do you really think

that I'm someone to have
my future happiness

decided by fate,

by which bit of paper
comes out of a purse first,

like a--like a raffle ticket?

- No.
- What?

- No.
I--I couldn't...

- What?

Ann!
- Nothing.

- I'm taking it as a no.

- It isn't a no.

- Well, it isn't a yes.

Will you accept him?

- I don't want to, but--

- But?

But what?

What?

- If I did,

it would be out of duty.

- Duty?

What, to her?
To Mrs. Ainsworth?

- No.

- Well, what, then?

- I...

- Ann.

- Ann, talk to me.
We're adults.

Nothing can be this bad.

- I'll never see you again.

- What?
What do you mean?

- If I tell you the truth,
you won't want

anything to do with me.

- I might surprise you.

Hmm?

- It's him.

- Him?
Him who?

- The Reverend Ainsworth.

I've been...

Indiscreet with him.

He said that he was
in love with me,

and that he wanted to marry me
and she wouldn't live long,

and I didn't want to,

but I didn't know
how to say no.

That's why I was so upset

when I heard that she'd died,

because I knew
this would happen!

I knew it wouldn't be
five minutes

until he was writing to me,
and, Anne,

Anne, I never encouraged him.

I told him I didn't want to,
but then he just...

managed situations
that he was alone with me,

either here when they visited

or there at their house.

Do...

do you understand?

You understand the problem?

He's had...

Intimate knowledge of me.

- Intimate how?

- Kissing?

Did he...

Touching?

Have you been connected?

- Once.

This is the thing.

Does that not...

put me under
an obligation to him,

to Mr. Ainsworth?

- Hang on.

He inflicted himself on you.

You were in his house

to visit your friend, his wife.

You were under his protection,

in his house,

and he took advantage of you.

- When she left the room.

But still, does--
morally, does that not--

- No, God. Good God, no!
Of course it doesn't.

You're under no obligation
at all

because he was married,
for heaven's sake!

- You're shouting.
You're cross.

- No, I'm not shouting at you.
I'm not cross at you.

I'm glad--
I'm glad you've told me, Ann.

Ann, you are not
obligated to him.

- And do you see?
Do you--

do you see now this is why
I couldn't say yes to you,

because I was worried that--

all sorts--
that you'd be c--cross...

- No.
- And that you'd expose me,

and that I wasn't even free
or fit to say yes to you,

and that's why I couldn't
show you the letter,

and it's--

The letter's right here.

And it's just clear
from the language he uses

he already thinks I'm his.

To "My own little Annie,"

from
"Your own Thomas Ainsworth,"

and I couldn't tell anybody

because he said
it would reflect

just as badly on me
as it did on him.

I know you'll think I'm weak...

and stupid...

but you see, if I'd had
someone like you in my life,

this would've never happened,

because I'd have had
someone to talk to,

to tell...

someone who would've helped me.

- Is everything you've told me
absolutely true?

- Yes.

You do know
I would have got you

out of this scrape,
don't you,

whether you'd have said yes
to me or not?

- Would you?

- Grubby little wretch.

And in a dog collar.

- He'll still be coming over
for this position,

this meeting
with the church trustees.

The whole thing, no doubt,
is just a ruse

to get nearer to me.

- Shh, shh, shh.

You have nothing more
to fear from him.

Do you understand me?

- What are you going
to do to him?

- I haven't decided yet.

The Reverend Thomas Ainsworth
is at the door.

You don't think he intends
to propose to you?

So you shouldn't say anything
to Mr. Ainsworth.

Miss Lister! The thing
you should understand--

What you need to understand
is you would be exposed...

as an adulterer.

If she wants to start
running with the big dogs,

then she's gonna have to
find out what it's like

when they really start biting.

You're in the worst kind
of danger,

in this world and the next.

I would rather die
then people know what we do.

It's wrong! It's repugnant!

You understand nothing about me.