All language subtitles for Gentleman.Jack.S02E05.WEBRip.x264-ION10

I'm not the other woman.

She is.

I shan't leave you again.

Perhaps you were drunk
when you were driving that gig

when Henry Hardcastle
lost his leg.

Miss Lister and Miss Walker,
they were...

...kissing,
like married people kiss.

I'll write to Elizabeth
about dividing the estate.

It's probably something we
should have done before now.

It's all going to come
to Sackville

at the end of it all, anyway.

Fairly certain we're heading
towards an election

at abominable speed. Mmm.

Not another one.

Welcoming
Mr James Stuart-Wortley,

Tory party candidate
for Halifax.

Gentlemen!

I have been invited by
a body of your constituency

here in Halifax...

...far exceeding in number

those who supported me
on a former occasion...

Down wi' t'Tories!

...for the honour of
representing you in Parliament.

Get off the stage!

And as it has been attempted
by an unprincipled coalition

to dictate to the town...

...and to exclude...

Get off!

...of private interest
or inconvenience

would justify me
from withholding my services...

Get off, you Tory scumbag!

Show us your arse!

It'll be an improvement
on your face!

- Twat.
- Sorry.

- I said sorry.
- Posh boy.

You'll have to keep still.

What did Mr Wortley actually
say, Matthew, in his speech?

I couldn't hear him, ma'am.
It were too noisy.

And there were a band
playing on,

purposely, a Yellow band,
so no-one could hear him.

These Radicals!

Apparently, when Mr Protheroe
was speaking, though,

a band made up of Blues did
exactly the same thing, though.

- No, they didn't.
- No, they did.

No, they didn't.

The Blues wouldn't sink
to such low tactics.

I don't want to hear that repeated.

- Ah. Booth.
- What's happened?

I want you to go out

to Brierley Hill and give
John Bottomley a message.

Tell him I've had a note
from Mr Holroyd,

on behalf of Mr Wortley's
election committee, asking him

to give both his votes
for Mr Wortley

first thing tomorrow morning.

Now, ma'am?

No. Next week.
After the election's over!

Yes, now. Go!

Mr Abbott will be here
this evening

for an hour or so
in the drawing room.

If anyone would like
to join us,

you'd all be more
than welcome.

Father?

Right.

Aunt?

Yes.

Anne?

Miss Walker?

Adny and I
will have a good fire

in our little sitting room upstairs,

so if anyone would like
to join us, you would be,

equally, more than welcome
there. Aunt. Father.

Mr Abbott is a staunch Blue.

I would've thought that, if
nothing else, would encourage

a more favourable opinion
from you.

I'm still reeling at the fact

that he had the temerity
to come up and greet me

the way he did
at the Navigation meeting.

He was holding out
an olive branch.

Yes. Well, he needn't
have bothered.

It was an embarrassment.
He's a...chump.

A chump who dumped you.

Yes, well,
that is, unfortunately,

my objection to him too.

Sorry. Hold on...

He had you on.

You shamelessly attend
a meeting full of men...

He left you open
to humiliation.

And the thing
that embarrasses you

is that someone politely
comes up and says hello?

I barely knew where to look.

And he didn't dump me.

What Mr Rawson said
about Miss Greenwood

of Field House was nonsense.

I've already explained this
about 15 times!

He didn't visit you
for weeks on end,

and you were upset.

Hmm? Did he ever explain that?

Only that whenever he visited,
he was always ignored.

That's not fair. Your father
and I had to have...

...had tea with him on several
occasions. And his mother.

Not ignored by you, Aunt.

- Ma'am.
- Ah, John.

I don't want to disturb you
at table...

No, come in.

John Bottomley wasn't at home,
but his wife says

he'll definitely be in
by nine o'clock

and she'll send him down
to speak to you

- the minute he gets in.
- Why?

I... I don't know.

You were only delivering
a message.

That's just what she said.

Oh, except that he's already
had two letters

from Mr Wortley's committee,
she said,

one telling him to go
to the Talbot first thing

and another to the White Swan.

That's clear enough -

if he goes to one place
or the other.

Why's she sending him here?

It's just what she said.

Perhaps he doesn't want to vote
for Mr Wortley.

Yes, thank you, John.

That isn't the attitude, Father.

We can't just let the Whigs
waltz back into power

unchallenged.

We must do what we can,
whether we have a vote or not.

If I have to write to
Lady Stuart and tell her that

the right-minded people
of Halifax have failed

to secure her nephew a seat
in the House of Commons,

I shall be sick.

Hmm.

Nine o'clock,
and no John Bottomley.

Now, I'm
with Robert Peel. Moderation.

Bringing people together.

That's how
you run a government.

It's certainly how
you run a country.

Sometimes, I think the Ultras
are as bad as the Radicals.

Worse, in fact, because
they should know better.

Course, I'd never say that
out loud

in front of anyone
who mattered,

but, no, we've a lot in common,
me and Robert Peel.

He's a self-made man -
well, his father is -

so he's got the common touch,
and that goes a long way.

He's united the party,
which the Whigs'll never do,

and he'll unite the country,
I've no doubt about that.

Is that your sister?

Is it?

Anne?

She's an Ultra.

- George!
- Ooh.

No. Don't get up, Elizabeth.
It's gone nine.

Run up the hill and see
where John Bottomley's got to.

And if he's still not at home,
go and tell your brother

to get over to him again
at five o'clock in the morning

before he sets off to work

and to take care he gets down
into Halifax to give a plumper

- for Mr Wortley.
- A...?

Both his votes for Mr Wortley.

Yes, ma'am.

Hip bad, Elizabeth?

It's this cold spell, ma'am.
Always makes it worse.

Mr Sunderland's here tomorrow
to see my aunt.

Do you want to ask him
to look in on you?

Oh, no. No, I don't want
anybody put to any trouble.

Nonsense. We can't expect
a good day's work from you

if you're in pain.

There'll be nowt he can do.
And then what?

Happen she'll take me outside
and shoot me,

like she did Percy.

Don't. Don't!

I said don't.

Miss Lister!

- Mr Abbott. We meet again.
- Yes, I was just saying

to Marian...to, uh,

- Miss Marian...
- Would you excuse me?

A thousand things to do.

Yes, I was just saying I hope
I didn't speak out of turn

- at the...
- Goodbye, Mr Abbott.

...the Navigation meeting.
Yes. Sorry. Busy, busy.

Same as me.

Excellent.

Have you, um...

...told her?

No. No, no.

Not yet.

Ah, Joe... George.

- Is Miss Walker about?
- Yes, sir.

- Mr Washington, ma'am.
- Ah.

Well, Mr Washington...

Miss Lister. Miss Walker.

Polling is under way,
down in Halifax at least.

- Yes, ma'am.
- And we've done our bit.

We got John Bottomley
down to the White Swan

at five o'clock this morning,

and we've badgered
the fence-sitters

and the non-promisers.

George,
fetch another cup and saucer.

Not for me, thank you.

I, um...

Sit down, Mr Washington.

Um...

Have you had a letter

from your sister in Scotland
at all, ma'am?

- No.
- Ah.

She said she'd written
to you separately.

Happen it'll come today.

She's...sent instruction
for distresses to be made

on 25 of your tenants,

all for rent arrears.

Some are to claim goods
to the value owed,

but...more than half
are evictions.

Shall I read you the letter,
ma'am?

Yes.

"Dear Mr Washington.

"Since my sister
has now requested

"a formal division
of the joint property,

"it strikes me
as an opportune moment

"to put our house in order.

"From the latest accounts
you forwarded,

"it is clear that
a number of tenancies

"have fallen
into significant arrears."

Really? How?

Uh...

"I enclose a list of
names, properties and actions

"to be taken, and would be
grateful if you could undertake

"the necessary steps
to employ a bailiff

"who will carry out
those actions."

How have these tenancies fallen
into arrears, Mr Washington?

They do their best, ma'am,

and I do keep on at them,
those that owe,

but...folk can't always
find work,

not without moving
to the towns,

which they don't all
want to do. Or can't do.

Some of them are elderly.

And none of them
are bad people.

I'd rather write 25 letters
back to Scotland

on behalf of them all

than serve any one
of these distresses.

Well...

If that's what
Mrs Sutherland wants,

if she believes that's the
best way of going about it...

And there'll be new tenants
to find, of course.

Yes, of course.

And we'll have to seek references

to ascertain that they can pay.

Shall I wait till you've heard
from her as well, then, ma'am?

Or shall I speak to a bailiff?

Well, yes.

If Mrs Sutherland thinks
that's the right way forward,

then we should respect that
and get on with it.

Right.

Is that everything?

Yes, ma'am.

Shall I see you tomorrow
at the Stag's Head, ma'am?

- Christmas rent collection.
- I'll be there at noon.

Why has she done that?

She doesn't write to me.

She writes to everyone except
me, and then she's done that!

Hmm. On the other hand,
she's clearly got the message.

And perhaps that's why
Washington didn't want

to get involved
and write to Elizabeth,

because he suspected
this might follow.

Oh...

That's Mr Sunderland.

Very unpleasant.
Odious, in fact.

And have you heard the reports
set afloat by the Whigs?

Of Mr Wortley singing
and drinking in public houses

- late into the night?
- Good Lord.

Are there no depths
to which they won't plummet?

But I remain optimistic.

Good. Well said, Mr Sunderland.
So do I.

Don't we, Aunt?

Not least because
Mr Wortley's committee

has worked so tirelessly.

Mr Rawson, Mr Norris,
Mr Waterhouse...

Yes. Well, we've all done
our bit, one way or another.

I'm going to put a new dressing
on this, Miss Lister,

and I'm going to leave you
with a little more laudanum.

Well?

The sore is getting larger.

And her pulse...

...I'm happy enough with.

If she gets through
the rest of the winter,

I'm confident she'll be with us
a little while longer yet.

Is Captain Lister...?

No... No. He's out

in that...britzka he bought.

He's going to kill Marian.

Oh, well.

Would you mind taking a look at
Mrs Cordingley's hip instead?

Ah! The perennial hip.

Elizabeth, Mr Sunderland's here
to look at your hip.

Oh...

Oh, it's fine. I don't...
I don't need...

Nonsense, Mrs Cordingley.
We can't see you suffering.

It's... Really, I'd rather not.

Walk towards me.

Dr Kenny looked at it
last winter and he said -

just before you came home
from Copenhagen, ma'am -

and he said there's nothing
to be done, so...

And it gets easier when
the weather gets warmer, so...

Come and sit here.

I'd only have to stand up again.

Well, walk towards me, then.

Hmm...

You see, sometimes,
just a bit of manipulation

in exactly the right spot can...

No! I don't like being poked!

And a bad hip's a bad hip.

I've seen it with other folks.
There's nowt you can do,

and some of us just can't lie
in bed all day!

So...

...it's better just to leave it
as it is.

Let me see you out,
Mr Sunderland.

Castor oil, Mrs Cordingley,
if you have any.

A teaspoonful once a day.

But it'll only help
if taken consistently

over a period
of at least a month.

I'll call in again on Thursday.
And send for me again

if I'm needed sooner.
Good morning, Miss Lister.

Au revoir.

I didn't mean...

I think the world of your aunt.
You know I do.

Why don't you go and stay with
your sister for a few days...

...in Bingley?

Have a bit of a rest.

Who'll cook?

I'm sure I can find someone
to step in.

Temporarily.

Write to her,
see what she says.

Someone can drive you over
to Bingley in the britzka.

I'll think about it, ma'am.
Thank you, ma'am.

Sorry, ma'am.

It came in the postbag
while you were upstairs.

It's perfectly affectionate
in some ways

and then oddly pragmatic
in others.

She's saying
that dividing the estate

is something we should've done
long before now. It's only odd

that it's taken her so long
to reach that conclusion.

And a letter from a lawyer.

Well...let's not quibble.

It's a step in
the right direction, at least.

At last.

I wonder what time

we'll hear anything
about the polling today.

Power to the people!

Up with the Radicals!

Power to the people!

Mind yersen, lad.

- Ohh! Joseph.
- Mr Whitley.

Do you know when they might
publish the state of the poll?

Miss Lister's sent me
to find out.

Anne...

Seriously.

You get over
one ridiculous injury

and then you take
the damnable thing out again.

- Anne...
- Well, it'll be me

that has to sort out
doctors and valets

and one thing and another
when he breaks his neck.

Some sympathy
might not go amiss...

...actually...lady.

For a self-inflicted injury?

When we have real illness
in the house to contend with?

Ma'am?

I bumped into Mr Whitley,
ma'am,

and he said not to despair.

Read it out.

Mr Wortley, Tory party,

260 votes. Hmm.

Mr Wood, Whig,

294 votes.

Protheroe, the Radical party,

273.

He's right,
we mustn't despair.

The poll continues
all day tomorrow,

and we knew
Wood would get back in.

As long as Wortley can pip
Protheroe to the post

for the second borough seat,
we'll be all right. Hmm?

We must keep our nerve.

And he might well, ma'am.

Mr Whitley said the committee
itself hasn't even voted yet,

they've been that busy
getting people to the polling,

so Mr Wortley has a good number
of votes still to come in.

Thank you, Joseph... George.

- Are you all right, lad?
- Yeah. Just.

There was a lot
of Blue flags torn down,

and Halifax was all lit up,

and there were drunk people everywhere,

men and women, even,

singing and shouting
and giving it some.

Go and get your dinner.

What tawdry times
we live in.

Are you coming with me

to collect the rents tomorrow,
Father?

I can do.

If you can stand up.

I worry about Elizabeth.

Why?

I'll never forget
that look on her face

the last time
I was in Scotland.

She was terrified.

I bet there were consequences
after I left.

Mmm.

And if you read the letter closely,

you can feel his influence
right through it.

Little expressions
I know she'd never use.

And the ridiculous delay
in responding...

That's him.

And the distresses.

To not even discuss it with me

before sending an order
like that...

It's him.

He's trying to undermine me,

he's trying to make me worry

I've asked for something unreasonable,

and these are the consequences.

Hmm.

Well, if it is,

that puts to rest any anxiety

that he and Washington would
collude with one another.

And at such a volatile time
too, with the election.

If the vote does swing
Mr Wortley's way tomorrow,

people are saying
there's going to be unrest.

And it won't be him
people will point at, will it?

No, he's 400 miles away.
It'll be me.

It's very cunning
and unpleasant

if he's purposely done it

to coincide
with the election here.

We'll ride the storm together.

As long as you get
what you want from it,

at the end of it,
it'll all be worth it.

It is still what you want,
isn't it?

You know it is.

You've been so attentive

since you came back
from Lawton Hall.

Aren't I always?

What made you say,

"I shan't leave you again,"

the moment you came in?

When?

When you came back from Lawton.

It was the first thing
you said.

Was it?

Hmm.

Only that I'd missed you.

I didn't realise
quite how much...

...until my eyes fell upon you.

It just struck me
when you said it,

and then you've not talked
about Mrs Lawton since.

Not once.

You are the only person
that matters to me now.

You know that.

This is the future. Our future.

Here.

You and me.

I'd better go and say goodnight
to my aunt and my father,

and... Marian said she needs me
for a few minutes.

Ah!

Goodnight, Father.

Mwah!

- Sleep tight.
- Night-night.

Ah...

I thought you'd forgotten.

If this is about
what I think it's about...

...need we put one another
through it?

Do you want to sit down?

I don't need to sit down.

I shouldn't wish
to deceive you any longer,

and of course you're free
to tell Miss Walker,

as she is now,
to all intents and purposes,

part of the family.
And Father knows too.

I told him this afternoon.

I have made up my mind
to marry Mr Abbott.

He has about 2,000 a year,

as far as I can make out,
before you ask, from...

...wool,

which, if we were
to have children,

which we would both
very much like,

wouldn't be quite as much
as we would hope to live on,

and so his intention
is to continue

to develop his businesses here,
in Halifax.

Well...

You know what I think.

And you know
what I'm going to say.

I've been saying it all along.

I think you're making
a grave mistake.

So I have just one request -

that you should not marry
from here, from Shibden,

and that you send the news yourself

to the papers in Halifax,
Leeds and York,

styling yourself as Marian,

daughter
of Jeremy Lister Esquire

of Skelfler House
in East Yorkshire.

If that's what you want.

He does know that you have
nothing to expect from here,

doesn't he?
You have been clear about it?

Yes.

He understands that
there are no circumstances

under which you would ever
inherit Shibden, doesn't he?

Yes!

Even if you have children.

He understands that
if he has visions of himself

being lord and master here
one day,

then those visions are
going to be sadly frustrated?

We've not actually talked
about it, but I think he...

Then I suggest you do!

I suggest that you are
unambiguously clear to him

- that if and when I die...
- "If"?

...this house...

...may go to another...

...but it won't be you or him,

and then it's entailed
to the Listers of Swansea.

I can make it clear to him
if you think it's important.

It won't change anything.

Oh, you're naive.

- He's a good soul.
- That's irrelevant!

What isn't irrelevant
is the fact that you would be

marrying so far beneath you,
Marian!

You are a Lister.

Our family is one of
the oldest, if not the oldest,

in Halifax, and if you insist
on this social mismatch,

then you must understand

that there can be no further
communication between us

and all ties with here
must be permanently severed.

Miss Walker and I
would not attend the wedding.

Indeed, you needn't tell us
about it at all.

It would be enough for us
to see it in the paper.

Your best friend would be
that person who mentioned me

to you seldomest.

And as for Adny and I...

...your name would never again
pass our lips.

My only fear...

...is that the mortification
of your reduced circumstances

may be far greater
than you anticipate.

The great sadness of the thing, Marian,

is that
there's really no need for it.

I've always
made it abundantly clear

that there will always be
a knife and fork for you here.

But I want to marry him.

I have no wish to persuade
anyone against anything

they have very much at heart.

All I ask is that you think
long and hard

about what you would gain...

...and what you would lose.

Status is so hard to win...

...and so very easy
to throw away.

And for what?

A wool-stapler.

People will be amazed.

It's inconceivable.

I suppose I don't feel
that I am marrying

so very far beneath me.

Oh, Marian.

He's in all the right societies
and institutions in the town.

He's very well regarded...

Well enough regarded.

He's very capable
and hard-working and ambitious

and more than likely

to do extraordinarily well
for himself by and by.

None of which matters.

None of which changes the fact
that you are a Lister.

He is...a wool-stapler.

No-one else has ever asked me.

That's no reason
to marry someone, Marian.

I like him.

Enough to ostracise yourself

from everything
you've ever known?

I'd like to be a mother.

Does Aunt Anne know?

No.

Not yet.

Could you not tell her?

It would cause her
so much hurt.

Lord knows, she has enough
to contend with at the moment.

And so many things happen
between the cup and the lip.

It might all go off again...

...and then she need never have
been troubled with it. Hmm?

Go!

It won't make any difference.

- It won't cure it.
- Just go.

I'll just get used
to not doing owt much

and then it'll be time
to come back again.

- And...? Go.
- And then it'll be

twice as hard
to get back into the rhythm

of everything here than if I'd
never gone in the first place.

Shall I go?

I'll go.

I'll pretend to be you.

Your sister won't notice.

I suppose our Nancy
would be pleased to see me.

- Mmm.
- And it'd be nice

to have a rest.

There you are.

I wish I could just find
a nice fella

and just have him
to look after.

Tory scum!

Tory scum!

- Have it all!
- Come here. Give it here.

Give it here!

Get his fucking bollocks off!

You Tory!

Thataway!

- Get yersen back off home.
- Is that Dick?

- Is he all right?
- They were attacking

Mr Atkinson, the wine merchant,

so we waded in,

and he's an invalid, you know.
And his wife were there

trying to shoo 'em off. So we
sorted the little bastards out,

and they were nowt but lads.

And we got Mr and Mrs Atkinson
safe upstairs,

but this lad
had his hair parted.

What's happened?

Wortley!

He beat Protheroe by one vote,
so they're smashing t'town up.

You wanna get yersen

back up that hill and off home.

That's what we're doing.
Come on!

Move yourself. Move!

What a hard-run race.

I shall write to Lady Stuart
and tell her.

Oh, but the town, ma'am!

You've never seen
anything like it.

All the shop fronts -
smashed in and raided.

All the inns... Well,
all those identified as Blue.

Really?

I didn't see it with
my own eyes, but, apparently,

both front doors of
the vicarage broken down,

and one fella said
up at Mr Norris's house

there was glass and furniture
and paintings

all shattered and ripped
and strewn across his garden.

Then they'd gone over
to Hope Hall,

where they were hellbent
on smashing that up.

And if they'd got hold
of Mr Christopher Rawson,

they'd drag him outside
by his bootstraps and...

And...?

And what?

Hang him.

I don't think you understand
the strength of feeling

in the town, ma'am,
against the Blues.

I don't think I did.

Do you think the mob
will come up the hill?

Oh, I think it's unlikely,
ma'am.

They seem more focused on

attacking Mr Wortley's
committee than anybody else.

I just thought you should know.

I've never seen
anything like it in my life.

Did you speak to Mr Goodall?

Yes. Yes.

I gave him
Mrs Sutherland's list.

The bailiff.

And he can take care
of everything for you, ma'am -

the distresses.

When...will he do it?

Within the week.

Mr Sunderland...

What are you doing?

Going down into Halifax.

Why?

To finish paying for Staups.
The final payment's due today,

and then it'll all be part
of Shibden.

A note. From Mr Sunderland.

He can't visit Aunt Anne today

because he isn't feeling himself

but he can ask Dr Jubb
to come instead.

Is it wise?

To go into Halifax?

- I think it would be...
- Yes! I know!

Unwise not to! Of course.
Silly me!

I'll write
and tell Mr Sunderland

we'll only ask Dr Jubb
to come if we need him.

Perhaps you can take the note,
if it's no trouble!

If you can wait long enough
for me to write it!

Is she one of us?

Are you a Yellow?

- Is she a Yellow?
- Ask her.

- Are you a Yellow?
- Oi! You're being spoke to.

Are you a Yellow?

She's Blue, her.

Are you a Yellow, mister?

Missus?

No. I'm not Yellow.

I'm black.

I'm in mourning for all
the damage that's been done.

I hardly expected to see you.

I thought you might not have
wanted to have ventured out.

When I saw the sad turmoil,
the town was in,

I hardly expected
to find you here.

Well, like you, Miss Lister,

although people might not
imagine it in the same way,

I'm made of stern stuff.

I didn't know you had dealings
with my friend

Miss Walker's brother-in-law,
Captain Sutherland.

Oh! Yes.

When John Walker died...
on his honeymoon, poor fellow.

Mmm. What do you make of him?

Sutherland?

Oh, well, it's a good few...
It's five years now.

But, um, yes, he...

Yes.

He's amiable, fastidious
in matters of business.

Devoted to his wife.

Why?

Miss Walker has requested
a division of the estate

between herself
and Mrs Sutherland,

but he seems...determined
to frustrate the process,

whilst it's clear
that she, Mrs Sutherland,

agrees that the whole thing

should have been done
a while since.

- Hmm.
- Hmm.

I've got £525
in Bank of England notes,

255 in country notes
and 170 in sovereigns.

That's 950.

You have the 1,000 I took
at 4.5% from Mr Wainhouse,

plus the other 1,000
he's furnishing me with

until Miss Walker's
administration money

comes through
and I can repay him.

I paid a £330 deposit
on 23rd May,

so the total owed by me today

stands at £3,225

five shillings and thruppence -

minus £6
17 shillings and sixpence,

that being
the last half-year's rent

received from two tenants,
Moore and Oates,

which takes us to £3,218

eight shillings and 11 pence.

Correct.

Well, I've had a note from
the other party, the vendor,

Mrs Barton.
A vulgar set.

All ready for the handover.
All waiting round

at Messrs Stead and Dyson.

All very intrigued to meet you.
Shall we set off?

Good Lord, no.

I'll be over at Whitley's.

But I'll be back in an hour,
when the thing's done.

Ah!

Stay there.

You all right, lad?

Yep. Yep.

I half imagined
the things

Washington told us last night

might have been exaggerated, but...

No.

People are estimating the
damage to be more than £10,000.

2,000 alone
at Mr Norris's house.

They were baying
for his blood last night.

Chanting for him
to come outside.

Of course, he'd fled by then.

They broke in and...

...the lower floor
was destroyed.

Defiled.

The same at Shay House.

You know, they broke down
the front door,

smashed up the furniture.

Jeremiah Rawson's carriage
and his gig

were dragged out
of his carriage house

and into the street
and ripped asunder.

The same at Hope Hall.

And, apparently...

...they were intending
to come to us next,

at Well Head.

No.

But Protheroe persuaded them
against it.

Thank the Lord.

Well, he sent his servant
to persuade them against it.

He knows how ill Catherine is.

You... You know my daughter's
in the final stages

of consumption,

- Miss Lister?
- Yes, I do. I'm sorry.

Can you imagine...
if they'd broken in?

See, I... I had no idea
there was such anger.

And it's not just Halifax.
It's York,

Rochdale, Blackburn,

Stockport, Salford, Birmingham.

Have we been blind
not to see it?

Nothing justifies terror.

Hunger?

Poverty?

The misery some people must
feel in this bitter weather?

Maybe it does.

Perhaps the Radicals
have a point

when they say that our
time-honoured institutions

and ways of doing things don't
suit such fast-moving times...

...and the ravages
on such a big population.

I don't know.

When you say,
"The same at Hope Hall,"

do you mean Mr Christopher
Rawson's carriages

were destroyed too?

Smashed to pieces and burnt.

Miss Lister.

Miss Lister!

Mr Hinscliffe.

You're braver than some, coming
into town on a day like today.

I have business to transact.

I won't be diverted
from my purpose

by a few ne'er-do-wells

who don't like their own
so-called democracy.

Did you know...?

Do you know that the Rawsons
have now had

between four and five acres
of your coal?

Why aren't you taking
care of 'em? Eh? It's robbery.

It's daylight robbery.

How could you know
a thing like that?

Because people talk.
People go down there regularly.

He commands no loyalty.

Yes, well, perhaps I will
take care of him by and by.

Yeah? Well, why don't you?

Any number of men
would have offered you

a fair price for those beds

and you're just letting him
pillage it off you.

I'm sorry, but it's...

Well, it's sickening
for them of us

that are trying to make
an honest living from it and...

Well, there it is.
I've said it.

I will take care of him.

Who's advising you?

James Holt?

A second opinion
on our strategy

might not be unwelcome.

I'll be a friend to anyone
who'll be a friend to me.

He used us both...badly

with that business
up at Willy Hill pit.

Come and visit me at Shibden
one day.

We'll discuss it.

Ah!

Well, it all went off
very agreeably.

The other party were only sorry

not to see you.
Mrs Barton said how much

she'd like to have made
your acquaintance.

A lucky
and a narrow escape.

And Staups is now part
of the Shibden Hall estate.

Congratulations. I'm glad
you got it. It makes sense.

It's a very good purchase.

So, let's get some handbills
printed and advertise

for bids for the tenancy
of the Stump Cross Inn.

Certainly.

There's been no shortage
of enquiries and it should

command a good rent.
I am anxious, however...

How can I put this?

...in light of
our narrow victory

last night, that it should go
to someone

of...my own persuasion.

Your own...?

Someone who I can rely on
to vote the right way

in a dead lift.

We must, after all,
do what we can

in these volatile times.

Yes...

Uh...

Yes.

Well, that would...

Would what?

There will be a scrutiny
of the vote,

with it being so close.

They'll send someone
up from London.

No doubt.

And what you're suggesting

could be, um,
thought of as...as...

- ...corruption.
- Mmm.

Except I wouldn't suggest it
to anyone except you.

We understand each other.

And then I've got
this Mr Bradley,

this architect from Elland,

coming to take a look at
Northgate House with an eye

to seeing what work
needs to be done

- to turn it into a good hotel.
- Ah. That's still a plan?

Oh, yes. And then,
with the right tenant,

come the next election,

that'd be another vote
for the Blues in the borough.

Hardcastle!

Have you been into Halifax
recently?

No, ma'am.

When was the last time
you were there?

Oh, week before last,
I think. Week before that.

The town's been smashed
to pieces by the mob.

Had you heard?

Because of the voting?

Hope Hall was broken into.

Christopher Rawson's carriages

were dragged
from his carriage house,

smashed to atoms and burnt.

Jeremiah Rawson's carriages
too, at the Shay.

Other houses were broken into,

windows smashed, paintings
and furniture destroyed.

It's a rum do.

But only at Hope Hall
and the Shay

were carriages destroyed.

Look, I didn't tell you this
at the time,

because I couldn't prove it.

I tried...

I didn't want to give you
and Mrs Hardcastle false hope.

But I believe...

...it was Christopher Rawson
who was driving the gig

that caused the accident
when Henry lost his leg.

Miss Walker's footman
recognised him.

He refused to testify.

Some of his family
work for the Rawsons

and he feared repercussions.

I had Mr Rawson at the Hall.

I accused him to his face,
but he denied it, of course.

But it was him.

He got rid of the gig
just after the accident.

Why would he do that?
Hmm?

Anyway, the point is...

...I did my best,

as I always will
for my tenants -

good tenants like you.

- But I failed you.
- Uh...

Then...it struck me.

Today.

Poetic justice of sorts.

- The hand of God.
- Mmm.

I wouldn't tell your wife.

It won't bring Henry's leg back,

and it'll upset her
all over again.

Mmm.

But I don't know. I just...

I thought you should know.

Thank you, ma'am.

Apparently,
it's going to snow again.

I'm not convinced.

Thank you, ma'am.

Oh... It's her.

She took her pistols
into Halifax with her.

Only me.

Ah! George, I need you
to run down into Halifax for me

when I've written a note.

Could you put this copy
of the Halifax Guardian

in the post to Lady Stuart?

Matthew...

...you'll have to wait on us
at dinner.

And wrap up!
It's just started to snow!

So, Mrs Oddy will come
and cook for us

while Cordingley's
at her sister's.

And, Father, I said you might
drive her to her sister's,

if you'd be so kind,
in the britzka.

Where does she live?

Bingley. If it's too far for
you, one of the lads can do it.

Or... Or I could.

And then fetch her back again
when she's ready.

We should raise our glasses.

Ooh, yes. Mrs Oddy.
I prefer her cooking.

No, Aunt. To Staups.

Oh, yes.

Oh, I see.

My new acquisition.

Staups.

- Staups.
- Staups.

What's the matter, Marian?

Staups.

And to Mr Wortley

for his hard-won victory
in the polls.

When all the results are in,

let's hope there's even
more reason to celebrate.

And then...

...where there is discord,

may we bring harmony.

Where there is error,

may we bring truth.

Where there is doubt,

may we bring faith.

And where there is despair,

may we bring hope.

Did you just say that?

Well, you saw her mouth open
and the words come out.

No, I mean...

Did she just invent it?

No, Aunt, sadly not.

It was St Francis of Assisi.

Oh...

Ma'am. Sorry, ma'am.

Sorry to interrupt your meal.

I know I was expected earlier,

but the snow's slowed
everything down.

- Shall I come back later?
- No, no, no.

I could wait half an hour if...

If you'd like to go through
to the drawing room,

you could take coffee with us.

But would you not rather
get off home?

Uh...ideally, yes.

I just brought your Bailey Hall
rents, Miss Walker.

Shall I...?

- Yes, um, anywhere.
- Here?

Thank you.

You need to get yourself home,
Mr Washington,

and settle
in front of a good fire.

I do, ma'am. I will.

No. There was just, um...

Yes?

...one other, uh...

What?

Did you...?

Have you seen
today's Leeds Mercury?

No. Just the Guardian.

- Ah.
- Why?

What's the matter?

It's, uh...

...in the marriage announcements.

Marriage announcements?

Is it?

I thought you ought to see it.

What is it?

What's it say?

In the marriages
of Wednesday last...

"The same day at
the parish church in Halifax,

"Captain Tom Lister
of Shibden Hall

"to Miss Ann Walker of Crow
Nest, near the same place."

What?

It's a joke, it's a skit.

Who would have
put that in the Leeds Mercury?

I have no idea.

What does it mean?

It's a send-up.

Is it funny?

Well...I... I suppose
it's quite amusing.

Well,
who's Captain Tom Lister?

Surely, they don't think you've
married Miss Walker, Father?

Or if they do, they've got
your name wrong.

They don't mean me.

It's very good.

It's very funny.

Um, you'll have to let us
have it, Mr Washington,

when you've finished with it,

so we can laugh at it
some more.

Oh.

Well, if...if you like,
take that one, keep it.

If only the person who'd spent
good money placing it

in the paper

could see that what was meant
to irritate and annoy

is in fact taken quietly

and with such mere amusement.

Thank you, Washington,
for bringing it to us.

Ma'am.

You'd better get off, before
the roads become impassable.

Goodnight, ma'am.

Sir. Miss Walker.