All language subtitles for Picnic at Hanging Rock - 01x01 - Episode 1.BluRay.x264-ROVERS.English.updated.Addic7ed.com

Well, the marble is Carrara.

That's from Italy.

The piano, German, of course.

The faux leather wallpaper,
handmade in Japan with gilding.

Apparently the finest makers
in the world.

Oh, uh,
and a formal rose garden.

Ladies like them.

All on a grand scale.

Hmm.

Look, I have a nice little Tudor
on two acres closer to town.

Might be more suitable.

Best veggies in the region.

Mr. Whitehead's a magician,
the gardener.

Ladies compete
for his strawberries.

His father worked
for the royal family

in the gardens
at Buckingham Schloss.

Interesting.
Would he stay on?

Yes, most certainly would.

Arthur's right.

People always
believe their own eyes.

Dress like a tart,
you're a tart.

Dress like a widow...

So, uh, 10 top-notch acres.

Two internal bathrooms
and three water closets.

My husband
mistrusted water closets.

A man after my own heart.

Some things belong outdoors.

Yeah, peaks and privies.

Passed away, has he?
Your husband?

I feel he watches over me.

There's always naked tits
in the finer establishments.

Sorry about that.

Built by a prospector.

He only lived here for a year.

They can't settle once
they've got the gold fever.

He died in New Zealand.

The family are open to offers.

I'll have to confer with Arthur.

Oh, yes, of course.
Speak amongst yourselves.

Don't mind me.

The stables appear
to be in good repair.

Oh, immaculate.

Look around you, ma'am.

It's barely sat in,
barely slept in,

all of it better than new.

A husband might
make me an offer.

Yes, of course.

There'd be a bit of argy-bargy.

We'd... agree on a sum,

what we mentioned earlier,
let's say 10%?

All right.
You drive a hard bargain.

15%.

Including the vehicles,

less another 5%
for immediate payment.

I... think we could
settle for that.

Good.

Then I will send for my trunks.

You want to stay here?

Now?

I dislike hotels.

He'll never find us out here.

Ass-end of the world.

New beginning.

Goodbye, Hester.

Hello, Widow Appleyard.

You're she.

Huh?

Ha.

Good morning!

And I am sorry,

but I think Miranda's
been playing truant again.

Miss Lumley, try
to set an example for the girls

by being punctual.

Yes, Mrs. Appleyard.

Good morning, ladies.

Good morning, Mrs. Appleyard.

As you are aware,

the seniors are attending a fete
this afternoon.

Mademoiselle,
you will accompany us.

Oui, Madame Appleyard.

Keep an eye on Miranda Reid.

Mm-hmm.

Miss McCraw,

you will lead
this morning's assembly.

Thank you.

Thank you, Mrs. Appleyard.

Which one?

It's a fete, not a ball.

The one with beads is heaven.

And it has a sheer bodice.

Mrs. A will make you change.

There won't be any time.

I wish the juniors were going.

I long to see
Government Cottage.

Oh, don't be a goose.

The real treat's
gonna be our picnic.

I've been studying up
on Mount Diogenes.

It's a mamelon.
Millions of years old.

Magma poured out through a vent
and congealed in place.

- Isn't that stupendous?
- Sounds disgusting.

A magma mamelon.

- I can't wait!
- Nor can I.

To be in the true wild again.

Marion Quade.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Appleyard.

- Irma Leopold.
- Good afternoon, Mrs. Appleyard.

Mademoiselle,
fetch Miss Leopold a shawl.

It's from the House of Worth.

You're not in London
anymore, Irma.

Paris, actually.

Miranda Reid.

Mrs. Appleyard.

Blanche Gifford.

Mrs. Appleyard.

What a perfect afternoon
for a fete.

Rosamund Swift.

Kenton sisters.

Yes, very good.

Yellow, interesting.

Some of our brave boys have
joined the Mounted Rifle Brigade

to fight in Africa
for Queen and country.

Today's fete
is to fare them well.

You will maintain a serious
demeanor at all times.

On Monday, you will write a
composition about the Boer War.

And who will read those?

As our new history teacher
has yet to materialize,

Marion will mark
your compositions out of 10.

Yes, Mrs. Appleyard.

Ladies, hats on.

In pairs, please.

Ah, look who's here.

Please give a round
of applause for our soldiers,

led by the governor's wife.

Bravo!

Hear, hear, mate!

- Bravo.
- Bravo.

Surely they're not taking
these poor horses into battle?

Along with
their poor selves, yes.

Could you do it?

Sail off and kill someone
you've never even met?

Imagine it.

Honestly, you two
are the strangest girls.

Ready.

Step. Lift.

Next, please.

Okay.

And... step, lift.

- A lizard climbing up a tree...
- Focus.

...stops still
in silent reverie.

Oh.

Sara Waybourne.

That's enough!

I can hardly fit any more
demerit marks under your name.

She's laughing, Miss!

Stop it!

And... And that is another
demerit mark for you, Edith,

for letting yourself
get bumped into.

Now, back in line.

Go on.

Sara Waybourne.

Over to the posture board
with you.

Quick sticks.

Not impressed.

Myrtle, strap her up.

Step. Lift.

Hmm, disappointing.
Let's see what we have here.

They do try
to put on a good show,

but it's hardly what one
would call a parade.

Oh, your little college
is gaining quite a reputation.

Who's the dark one?

Justice Quade's bastard?

Quade's a good man.

Indeed, and she's
inherited his intellect.

Much good it may do her.

That the Rothschild?

Irma Leopold, yes.
A direct heir.

Send her along
to our annual soiree.

Appleyard girls don't consort.

My nephew's just out
from London.

I don't want him getting bored.

Why don't you
chaperone her yourself?

Ugh. Can you bel...

Thank you, Colonel Fitzhubert.

I'd be honored.

Miss Leopold certainly
seems to have put us on the map.

Pity she's a Hebrew.

Who are your people?

Appleyard.
Kensington?

I'm not familiar with the name.

My papa holds the chair
for Ecclesiastical History

at the University of Cambridge.

My background doesn't
encourage conversation.

If you'll excuse me.

What is it?

This is amazing.

What are you doing?

And one becomes two.

- Can I share...
- Mademoiselle?

Yes?

Where is Miranda?

Edith's mother approaches
from the west.

Uh, other way.

You've never known
your east from your west.

I'm sorry.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Horton.

Hello.

A drop for you.

Try not to perspire, ladies.

Ah, Mrs. Appleyard.
What an unexpected pleasure.

Dr. Mackenzie.

I've just been invited to
the Fitzhuberts' annual soiree.

Oh, well, I would've
taken you every year

if I knew you wanted to go.

But one doesn't like to push.
He is a peer of the realm.

He's an old windbag.

And you're a wretched
schoolboy at heart.

Tell me, have you
seen Miranda Reid?

Mm, no.

Hey, buddy.

Hey.

Careful, Miss.

You know, I could ride
before I could walk.

Where was that, then?

North Queensland.

We own a cattle station.

You're a long way from home.

A country lass.

Maybe not.

Stuck-up little madam after all.

I have four brothers,
and I can outride them all.

I'm not a shock to you, then.

Steady now.

Easy.

Find water.
Clean your dress.

Behind the house,
there will be a pump.

Clean your dress.
Say nothing to anyone.

Go.

Yeah.

Hurts like the devil
to be trod on by a horse.

I suppose you're drunk.

Dr. Mackenzie will get you
something for the pain.

You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Then button up your trousers.

Dr. Mack's going to know

a horse didn't cause
that injury.

You know there's gonna be
a humongous fuss.

Dr. Mack won't tell.
He's Mrs. A's pet.

I seen it in the tower.

She just tore the pitchfork out?

If she's from Kensington,
I'm a stuffed parrot.

You're shaking.
Lie down.

Don't bother.
You're wanted.

Something light for dinner
the evening before.

The girls will stuff themselves
at the picnic.

Hm.
It's the fresh air.

It's the boredom.

Yes, ma'am.

Thank you, cook.

You almost destroyed
the reputation of my college.

You still don't understand why
you've been sent here, do you?

Your brothers are at home,
learning how to run the station.

Soon it will be theirs,
along with the family name.

Nothing comes to you.

Your worth will be set
by your future husband.

- What almost occurred today...
- That will never happen again.

Of course it will.

You've grown up on the land.

What takes place in
the marriage bed is no different

from what happens
between beasts in a field.

You are a ruinously
spoilt child.

You abandoned restraint.

Imagine if you'd had to marry
that brute as a result.

You're not...

...unattractive.

You could have suitors
to choose from.

But you lack refinement.

You may go.

I'll decide on your punishment
in my own time.

What happened?

Nothing.

That's not good.

Are those the stockings
I lent you?

Oh, don't give them
to Miss Lumley to mend.

I'll ask Mademoiselle.

I told you I didn't want them
because I knew I'd ruin them.

But you could be so elegant.

I don't want to be elegant.

I'm not a horse being groomed
for auction like you.

What a bumpkin you are
to think this is anything

like a real finishing school.

Happy Saint Valentine's Day!

A blessing from Saint Valentine,
sister mine.

Happy Saint Valentine's Day,
Irma.

Beside the creek
she sits to rest,

her feet as white
as purest snow.

She dips them
in the water blessed.

Like laughter
does that water flow.

A lizard climbing up a tree
stops still in silent reverie.

No one has ever
written me a poem.

Thank you, puss.

Happy Saint Valentine's Day.

I have the weekly post.

- Oh, I'm so excited!
- This is for you.

- Here's yours.
- Merci.

No. None for you, Edith.

How beautiful.

Oh, wow!

It's from my brother.

Good morning, girls.

Good morning, Mrs. Appleyard.

We are indeed fortunate
in our weather

for the picnic
to Mount Diogenes.

As the day is likely to be warm,
you may remove your gloves

after the drag
has passed through Woodend.

I must warn you, the rock
is extremely dangerous.

You are therefore forbidden
from engaging

in any tomboy foolishness
in the matter of exploration.

The vicinity is also renowned
for its venomous snakes

and poisonous ants.

Try to have a pleasant day.

Sorry to startle.

We have been introduced. Um...

That is to say, Miss Lumley,

your Mistress of Deportment
and Bible Studies, is my sister.

Oh.

Um...

Miss Leopold,
if I might, humbly,

with all deference
to Saint Valentine...

Thank you, Mr... Lumley.

Oh, my giddy aunt.

- Oh, throw it away.
- No, open it!

- I want to see it.
- Oh, my...

Looks like you've got
some competition.

Oh, not with Miss Lumley.

A love triangle.

Oh, don't be too jealous.

Mademoiselle. It's Edith.

Stop that caterwauling now.

Show me.

Hm.

Your monthly blood has arrived.

Yes, you are a woman now.

That means, Edith,
you can now have a baby.

But it's the picnic.

Mademoiselle will show you
how to protect your clothing.

I urge you
to make hygiene a priority.

Maladies flourish in the dark.

One mystery at least is solved.

Why Mrs. Horton sent her to us.

To spare herself this very day.

Hurry.

Bad timing
will define your life, Edith.

Sara, please return to your room
for the rest of the day.

But... i-it's the picnic.

You won't be attending.

You can thank Miranda.
This is her punishment.

My sins have nothing
to do with Sara.

You are excitable
and drawn to danger,

and no good will come of it.

Perhaps Sara's disappointment
will get through to you.

Oh, no, please, please,
let Sara go.

Sara has many outings
to look forward to.

This is your last year.

Your parents expect me
to do all that I can.

Please, Mrs. Appleyard.

She'll take me to the tower.

- Let me show her what you found.
- No.

You know, she has to
understand that we're...

we're not ignorant children.

We know her secret.

She'll leave you alone.

She'll be on her best behavior.

Trust me.

At least you'll get to see it,
the Hanging Rock.

Where is it?

Are you sure?

Let's burn her.

I despise our summer hats.

I shall design a new one
and tell Papa to have them made.

Leave Sara alone.

You know gossip's
like a wildfire.

Once it gets started...

...where does it end?

Steady, Sailor.
Whoa, Duchess.

Belmonte, I will give you
such a lathering.

Caramel, Mr. Hussey?

Not while I'm driving,
thank you.

I heard a horse belonging
to your father won at Ascot.

Papa's horses always win.

- Is that a fact?
- Yes.

Of course it's not a fact.

Otherwise, Mr. Hussey
might make his fortune.

Take them off.

Can we take
our hats off, as well?

Absolutely not.

A lady is given
only one complexion.

She must protect it.
Right, Edith?

I'll get the gate.

You're some lucky farmer's
dream, Miss Miranda.

Miranda.

Hah! Come on. Hah!

Hyah!

Look, the Fitzhuberts

are having a picnic, too.

And that must be
the nephew from London.

Can I take my hat off?

Girls.

The girl with the most
Valentines may now cut the cake.

Thank you.

To Saint Valentine.

To Saint Valentine!

Wish for true love, Irma.

You wrote Miranda a poem.

Miss Lumley brought it to me.

It is unseemly for a child
to write such a poem.

There.

That's better.

Did they shave your head
when you were at the orphanage?

Yes.

Did you recognize yourself
afterwards?

No.

What animal did you look like?

A squirrel?

And the other children?

O-One girl looked like a dog,
squishy with little eyes.

There was one nasty boy
who looked like a ferret.

There's always one of those.

But not my brother.

Bertie was handsome.

His ears stuck out
a bit, though.

Over here!

Get down, Miss Reid.

Albert.

I know how unhappy you've been,

but time with us
will pass quickly.

Try to make the best of it.

We're here at last.

We've escaped.

Show me your legs.

Show me.

They seem to be healing.

Do I need to look
under your bloomers?

No.

You're lying.
Pull them down.

Infection spreads.

Aah!

She dances in the forest glen,

at home among the trees
and flowers.

She sings a song.

Remember when there were no
clocks to chime away the hours?

Wild spirit of the grove is sh...

Do you know how lucky you are?
To be here?

You went into my room.
I know it was you.

You took something
that belongs to me.

To impress a group of girls
that would step over you

if you were dying of
consumption in the street.

That's not true!
They're my friends.

Who else saw the tin?

No one.

- Who else?
- No one else!

I won't go into your room
ever again, I promise.

The dark gets in.

You can't just say,
"I've had enough now."

It gets everywhere.

- I've met your true father.
- No.

He has horns and a tail.

No.

And eyes that look
the wrong way.

And feet with little
yellow hooves.

No.

Miss McCraw, uh,
we need to use the privy.

Well, just go over there.

- In the bushes?!
- Yes.

Girls, it's a stick.

Greta, would you happen
to have the time?

It's my father's.
It's never stopped before.

Very strange.

Miranda.

Do you have
your little diamond watch?

I don't wear it anymore.

I don't like the ticking
next to my heart.

I'll heat the water again.

We'll have another cuppa
before we set off.

Oh, thank you.

Can we take a closer look
at the Rock?

Absolutely not.

We won't go far.

We promised to sketch it
for poor little Sara.

Can I come?

No.

I don't feel well.
I want to go home.

We could take Edith.

Yes, but for one hour, no more.

Wait for me.

Miranda is a Botticelli angel.

Angels don't climb trees.

I say, Albert.
That's uncalled for.

I'm only doing
what you're thinking.

You don't see girls
like that at home.

- Come on, Edith.
- Get off. Get off!

Whoopsie-daisy, Maisy!

The good-looking one
fancies you, Mr. Michael.

Don't you start.

Why is it that,
when one's a free fellow,

a wife is considered
his only cure?

Anyway, call me Mike.

Come on.

No fear.

No, I'm a working man.

These dishes
won't wash themselves.

Just stretching my legs.

Ah.

It's higher than I imagined.

It doesn't like us.

Stop it.
Come on.

- Where?
- Up.

You said you wanted to.

- What are you doing?
- Climbing.

You can't!

Says who?

I'm telling Mademoiselle.

No, you're not. Come on.

I'm ill.

You shouldn't have had
that second piece of cake.

Wait!

"The Wreck of the Hesperus."

It was the schooner Hesperus
that sailed...

I had that dream again.

The one where I'm naked
in company.

I envy you,
the way you sleep so easily.

Hide away from the world.

Arthur.

You're not really here, are you?

Oh, God, I'm still asleep.

Wake up.

Wake up, Hester.

What the dickens
is wrong with it?

Where the dickens is Michael?

Mike?

Dianne. Where in God's name
have you been?

Something terrible has happened.

Here it is, then.

Retribution.