All language subtitles for House of Eliott S01E04 Episode 1.4.DVD.HI.en.ACORN (1)

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I'm sorry to intrude

like this.

- Are you?

Is it all right

if I go home now?

- Yes, of course.

- Goodnight.

Please, do excuse the place.

It's difficult when --

Sit down, please.

What do you want?

Nothing, Miss Eliott.

Only to meet

my sisters.

Half-sisters.

I'm so sorry. I know

I should've written first.

I'm handling this

very badly.

The last thing I wanted to do

was upset either of you.

Hardly avoidable, under the

circumstances, Mr. Eliott.

Believe me, I was every bit

as shocked as you must've been,

to learn about our father.

Why were you surprised?

Did you think he was

your father, alone?

Good Lord, no.

I was always led to believe

that my father died

when I was a baby,

gave his life to queen

and cholera in the Punjab.

As far as I knew,

I was raised

on a pension

from a grateful nation

and money from my father's

loving family.

[Scoff]

When you're a child,

you believe what you're told.

Yes, we know.

I understand

what you're saying,

but I'm afraid I don't

see the point of it.

The arrangements are perfectly

satisfactory as they are.

I see no reason

to change them.

No! That's

out of the question.

[Quietly] Look, this is

not a good time.

Very well.

Yes, all right.

I'll be there about 10:00.

[Taps desk]

How do you think I feel?

- I don't know, Mr. Eliott.

How do you feel?

Please, "Sebastian".

[Sigh]

My upbringing,

my education,

it's obviously been

at your expense, hasn't it?

Yes, it has.

Bea, it wasn't his fault.

He didn't know.

Tell me something, Mr. Eliott.

I'm curious.

When did you find out

the truth?

Just after Evangeline

had been to see my mother.

I went down to see her;

found her in a bit of a state,

weepy, that sort of thing.

She wouldn't tell me,

at first.

It must've been

pretty damn hard for her,

admitting, you know, that she'd

lied to me all those years.

How is she now?

- She's a little better --

We don't have anything,

you know.

I beg your pardon.

Bea --

- We don't have anything!

We have barely enough

to support ourselves,

let alone continue

to support you

in the manner to which

you've been accustomed.

[Laughs]

I can see that.

On the other hand, if you have

anything left in the kitty

which we have filled

over the years,

I'd quite like

to know about it.

That's a fair comment.

- Bea, we couldn't

possibly take --

- Yes, we could.

I'm afraid you won't

have the chance.

That, ladies, is it.

But, since my intention was

to get to know you both,

can I suggest

that we please go

and blow it on a little

something to eat somewhere?

I don't think so, Mr. Eliott.

Thank you.

It has been a day full

of interesting developments

and we still have some work

to finish here.

- But nothing that can't wait

until tomorrow.

No. No, your sister's

quite right, Miss Eliott.

It's probably better

if I go.

We all need to let things

sink in a little more.

Another time, perhaps.

I mean it.

Look, here's my card.

Believe me,

now that I've discovered

my only living relatives,

I'm not going to lose

touch with them.

I really am very sorry.

Arthur!

Where have you been?!

I had to order

the cab myself.

Now, go and get changed,

this instant,

or we'll be

disgracefully late.

- I'm sorry, Mother.

I'm afraid I can't come

to the opera with you tonight.

What do you mean, "can't"?

Don't be ridiculous.

Of course you can.

Why can't you?

- I have a dinner

engagement.

But you have an opera

engagement with me!

- Mother, I'm sorry.

How dare you just march in here

and cancel my evening!

I'm sorry,

but there it is.

I didn't notice the dinner

in my diary

and Miss Fullerton

forgot to remind me.

You're lying, then.

When you tell me

she's so efficient.

- Well, she usually is.

Then get rid of her.

You can't possibly let

your secretary

interfere with my Mozart.

Quite absurd.

Where are you dining?

- I'm not certain.

Um...the club, probably.

I hope you have

a wonderful evening.

I'm not saying that

I do trust him, Bea.

I'm not that naïve.

All I'm saying is that him being

who he is isn't his fault.

Does that make sense?

- Just about.

I just don't understand why

you were so hedgehoggy with him.

"Hedgehoggy"?!

- All bunched up, tight,

and defensive, spiky.

I mean, you heard what he said:

he didn't want anything from us.

- As far as we know.

I don't know.

It's his looks,

his manner, everything.

His looks?

We don't even know if he is

Sebastian Eliott.

He could be anyone.

Why did he come here?

How did he know we were here,

in the first place?

What does he want?

To see us, he got our forwarding

address from Highgate,

nothing --

in that order.

Why can't it just be

that simple?

You'll turn into one,

if you don't watch out.

- What?

A hedgehog.

Evening, sir.

Thank heaven it's warmer now.

That's all I can say.

- Hmm.

- Nearly summer now.

Yes, I know.

- Lower fuel bills and

longer hours of daylight,

which, thankfully,

come free.

- Poverty and ruin are

on the horizon, eh?

Not quite,

but not that far off.

- Well, I won't say it.

- What?

I won't say that

that's what happens when

we get on our high horses and

issue ultimatums to dressmakers.

- I'm glad you said "we".

I did enjoy it, though.

- I'd enjoy being solvent

a little more.

if things get really bad,

you can always go back to Jack.

- Hardly.

Well, we've got the Frampton

blouses to keep us going

and the coat

for Jane Etheridge

and the outfits

for Mrs. Merrywhite.

- And after that?

Not a great deal.

- And how much of that

involves Tilly?

Not a great deal.

It's mostly

straightforward day stuff,

not much beadwork involved.

I do hope we don't have to

give her fewer hours.

She does need the money.

- Well, it's fine while there's

the work for her to do, but,

however much we like her,

we need the money as well.

- Hmm.

Oh, Lord.

I nearly died

when Mrs. Partini told me

about your outrageous

behavior!

I simply could not

believe my ears!

Aunt Lydia, I apologize --

- Who do you think you are?

Not only was your employment

with Mrs. Partini

obtained

by my good graces,

but on my reputation.

She was furious and, I might

say, with good cause.

I am furious.

Please, Aunt Lydia,

there is an explanation.

No, there is not!

Do you seriously think

you're in a position

to throw away respectable, paid

employment because of your --

your arrogant reluctance

to accept discipline?

- Now, look, Aunt Lydia --

- [Knock at door]

Oh, sorry.

[Quietly]

Telephone.

Yes.

Yes, that is true.

[Excitedly] Oh, well,

yes, very possibly.

Um...would you excuse me

one moment,

while I just check

our engagements?

[Laughs]

Yes, Friday would be perfectly

convenient, Mr. Duroque.

10:00 sharp? Yes.

Goodbye.

Oh, Jack!

I am sorry if we embarrassed

you, Aunt Lydia,

but I don't think

it's irresponsible

to want to be given credit

where credit is due

and it's not a question

of ingratitude, either.

- Please don't misunderstand

me, Evangeline.

I'm in no way concerned

for myself, but,

the worst thing that can happen

to women in your situation is

to gain a reputation

for irresponsibility

and unreliability.

Reputation is all.

You, of all people,

should know that.

Oh, I do, Aunt Lydia;

I do.

I can't imagine what people

will say when word gets round

that you were dismissed

from Mrs. Partini's.

- Oh, I can.

That was George Duroque

on the telephone.

He'd heard that we'd left

Mrs. Partini;

wanted to know if we might be

available to work for him.

[Laughter]

You know Duroque's

of Mayfair?

No, I don't suppose

you do.

[Snicker]

My ladies.

My ladies are my family.

My house may bear

the proud name of Duroque,

but it is here -- here --

where reputations are earned,

by the meticulous and dedicated

attention to detail.

Now, drawn threadwork.

15 stitches to the inch.

Not 10, 15.

Some people are

satisfied with 10.

Toiles. You are familiar

with toiles?

- Of course.

Mm-hmm. An essential step

on the road to perfection.

No!

My office.

Ah.

Mm, yes.

Yes.

Absolute nonsense.

Rubbish!

[Slaps paper down]

Rubbish.

Work on that one.

I don't like the set

of the sleeves.

- Yes, Mr. Duroque.

Sit down.

Is something the matter?

- No.

No, not at all.

I just thought that --

- You thought what?

I'm sorry.

I was under the impression

you did all

the designing yourself.

In the early days,

of course,

to establish a style,

a feel.

But, now,

the lines of Duroque

are so clearly defined,

so distinctive.

Besides, one feels

an obligation

to encourage talented

young people.

Of course,

when there is

a particular client,

one is obliged.

Now, then, Madame Eliott,

I understand you wish

to attach yourselves

to my little establishment.

Well, I think we would both

welcome the opportunity

of working in such

a famous fashion house.

The experience

would be invaluable.

Well, of course it would.

There are many young women

who would pay me

for the opportunity.

[Laughter]

Now, Miss...Evangeline,

how do you feel?

What extraordinary talents

could you bring

to the House of Duroque?

Well, of course,

I'd be absolutely happy

to do anything

at all, but,

I'm actually interested

in design, sir.

It seems to be such

an exciting time,

at the moment,

don't you think?

Actually, I brought some

of my own sketches,

if you'd like to have a look.

- Good, good.

And you, Miss Beatrice,

where do

your interests lie?

- Well, in all aspects

of the business, Mr. Duroque.

After all,

we've only worked

in one other commercial

establishment.

Ah, yes, the unspeakable

Mrs. Partini.

You will forgive me.

The woman used to

work for me.

Took the training and

experience she gained here

to set up as a dressmaker.

Ah, enough of that.

To terms.

You will present yourselves

to my supervisor

at 7:30 on Monday morning

in plain, dark dress

and she will tell you

what your duties will be.

Your day will end when

your work is finished

and you will each be paid

6 shillings a week.

6 shillings a week?

Miss Beatrice, you said

you wished to learn

all aspects of my business.

To do that, you must

apprentice yourselves.

Apprentices are paid

6 shillings a week.

In Monsieur Worth's house,

they are paid 9 shillings

and sixpence.

Are they, now?

Very well,

I'll pay you 7 shillings.

9.

7 shillings and sixpence.

8 shillings.

For which I shall expect

the same standard of work

as Monsieur Worth.

- Of course.

Can I assume, Mr. Duroque,

that our salaries will increase,

in proportion

to our responsibilities?

- If and when you take on those

responsibilities, of course.

Thank you, Mr. Duroque.

Goodbye.

- Bye.

Afternoon, Mary.

- Hello.

Jack about?

- Yes.

Well, don't you think

you ought to check

if he's busy or not,

before I go barging in, hmm?

- [Sniff]

Are you busy?

No, he's not busy.

- How kind.

Thank you.

Hello, Pen.

- Jack, she is getting worse.

What are you doing to the woman?

Nothing.

I think she was born

like that.

- Jack, dear, I know --

She's useful to me, though.

Very pretty.

An excellent model,

very photogenic.

- Hmm. Surprised she

can sit still long enough.

Honestly, when I think

of the vast tribes

of perfectly good girls

I sent round.

What was wrong with them?

They were boring!

Ordinary.

Well, they may not have been

exactly glamorous,

but they were efficient,

to a man.

Well, I hope you explained

yourself to Bea and Evie.

What about?

Well, if I remember right, you

wouldn't let Evie have the job

because she was too pretty.

Oh, yes, I did,

didn't I?

Hmm. Hypocritical

old thing that you are.

Well, they haven't said

anything about it.

Well, they wouldn't, would they?

They're far too nice.

They're both

probably mortified.

Jack, why...?

Oh, do grow up.

So, what is the upshot

of it all?

- I beg your pardon.

Upshot, Lydia, upshot.

Do pay attention.

Did your niece leave

that dressmaker, or not?

- Oh, yes,

but I had to insist.

Quite right.

- "Loyalty is all very well,"

I told them --

In its place.

- As you say.

It would've been quite wrong

to disappoint Mr. Duroque

when he was so very keen

to employ them

and they are

so very talented.

Do you visit Mr. Duroque's?

Ghastly place!

Damn Cupids

all over the lobby.

If it weren't for the clothes,

I wouldn't bother.

I always insist he takes

at least 5% off the bill

and you should do the same,

otherwise, he'll rob you blind.

The man's

an absolute thief.

You can tell him I said so,

if you like.

Jack! Jack,

are you in the dark?

- No more than usual.

Come on in.

All right, relax.

Hello.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

- It's all right.

Like you, I have to make

the most of my spare time.

Is this another

of your creations,

you want recorded

for posterity?

- Well, yes, but not

if you're busy.

It's just it's being

picked up this morning.

Come along, princess,

move over. This is art.

Go and tidy something

for 5 minutes.

- It's Sunday.

Well...tidy it

respectfully, then.

- No, wait a minute.

It's obvious Mary would rather

model than tidy up.

Perhaps you'd like

to model this.

- Eh?

It's almost your size.

Go on, slip it on.

Just see how it looks.

- Look, am I getting

paid for this?

BEATRICE: There.

Perfect.

You're so pretty.

She must be such an asset

to you, Jack.

Oh, Mr. Duroque.

- What is it?

The new black lining

silk, sir.

It came from the mill

with a nasty flaw in it.

I've given it to Dispatch

to return and ordered a new one.

The paperwork is in your office,

awaiting your signature.

- Miss Beatrice, you've been

here for 2 months, now.

Are you still incapable

of dealing with these things

by yourself?

And what is this?

- It's a drape, sir.

No, it is not.

A drape is a "gathering

of material

which then hangs

in soft folds."

This is a pleat.

- Well, it will drape, sir,

when you do this. Look.

It's just that it's difficult

in linen. It doesn't --

Miss Evangeline,

I realize that Mrs. Partini

was quite likely to confuse

her drapes with her pleats,

but, here, we are not.

Now,

dr-rr-ape, if you please.

Keep smiling.

My mother tells me her check

failed to arrive in the post.

I thought you might care

to explain why.

- And I would've thought

it was obvious:

the annuity settled

on your mother

was only to be paid during

Henry Eliott's lifetime.

You have a document

to that effect, I suppose?

Of course. And,

as Dr. Eliott is now dead,

I'm afraid there will be

no more checks.

You'll find everything's

in order.

It would seem so.

In that case, perhaps we can

agree on a final settlement.

I beg your pardon.

A settlement, Mr. Eliott,

a 1/3 share of the good

doctor's estate.

Henry Eliott's estate

has already been settled.

Such as it is.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I'm mighty busy.

[pounding desk] I am entitled

to a 1/3 share.

Such as it is.

Do you seriously think

that Henry Eliott

would've publicly acknowledged

the existence

of an illegitimate son

by including him in his will?

I assure you, there's

no provision at all.

- You're lying.

Show me.

I can have a copy drawn up

and sent to you, if you insist.

Well, there must be

something.

I can't believe my father

would do that to me.

Then perhaps he began to have

his doubts, as to whether --

After all, your mother's

relationship with Dr. Eliott

was of, shall we say?

A rather mercenary nature.

Perhaps he felt there may

have been other such...

I suggest the onus

is very much upon you to --

- There will be more to this,

Cousin Arthur.

A great deal more.

Thank you, Mary.

Time seems to have flown

since your father's death.

[Chuckle] But, then again,

at my age,

time does seem to hurtle by

so very quickly.

You must miss him

very much.

Oh, we do.

- I remember so well

how I felt

when Richard died.

Of course,

I do have Arthur.

As, indeed, do you.

But your father

was always so reliable.

It must be desperately

difficult for you both.

We are coming

to terms with it.

- After all,

a father's love

can so easily be taken

for granted

and when it is suddenly

snatched from one...

My brother-in-law was always

so devoted to his children.

All three of us?

I beg your pardon.

You said Father was devoted

to his children.

I assume you meant Evie,

myself, and Brother Sebastian.

Oh, good Lord, he's not been

to see you as well, has he?

Really, Beatrice,

you should've told me.

- Arthur, who is this...

Sebastian?

Nobody at all, Mother,

just a foolish young man

who appeared in my office

one day, looking for a handout.

I see it all the time.

For every obituary

in The Times,

there are a dozen vultures

circling the relatives.

I suppose

he did tell you that

he was a long-lost relative.

- Actually,

he was quite convinced

he was Father's bastard son.

Beatrice! Language!

Isn't that the correct

term, "bastard"?

Not at tea!

Oh, I'm so sorry.

What term do we use,

then, "by-blow",

"love child"?

- Bea!

Thank you, Beatrice.

That will do!

Mother, I'm sure Beatrice

means no offense.

That will do!

What are you doing, Bea?

She may never speak to us again.

- Is that a complaint?

Well, no, but --

- Somebody had to say it.

I'd had just about as much

of her sentimental claptrap

as I could stomach!

- Oh, heavens, Bea.

She obviously didn't know

anything about Sebastian.

- Which is her problem,

rather than ours.

How dare you do that

to me, Arthur!

How dare you!

- Mother, the man was

an imposter, of no

importance at all.

- But you did not tell me

about him!

Why on Earth should I? I don't

tell you all my business.

- Then you should!

Don't be absurd, Mother.

What was the upshot?

- I beg your pardon.

What happened, Arthur?

With this Sebastian person.

- Well, I told him to leave

my office immediately

and think himself lucky

I didn't call the police.

It's perfectly all right.

No, it's beautiful,

truly.

It's just that...oh,

I don't know.

- Madame has inspected

all the new gowns.

Yes, I know, and they're

all gorgeous, Mr. Duroque,

absolutely delightful.

It's just --

Yes?

You see, my sister-in-law

was over from Paris last month

and she was wearing something

by Madam Vionnet

and it looked,

well, different.

Really?

- Modern.

If you see what I mean.

What do you think?

Do excuse me, Miss Spencer,

but what Madam Vionnet is doing

is something that

Monsieur Duroque has, himself,

been toying with for some time.

You see, you cut

the fabric on the bias

so that you keep the slim

line of the dress,

but it appears to be much more

fluid over the hips and legs.

[Chuckle] If, of course,

the dummy had legs.

Yes! That's

absolutely it!

- And then, of course, you have

a hemline that flows with you

as you walk, showing the

natural shape of the body.

It's very graceful.

- I adore it.

Mr. Duroque, you are

terribly clever.

One more time, my girl.

You do that to me

just one more time

and you will be

out of here so fast,

your feet won't touch

the ground!

Do you understand?!

- Yes, Mr. Duroque.

- When I made you a toile-cutter,

I did so against

my better judgment.

I expect you to do

what you're told.

I do not expect

impertinence!

- She did ask

my opinion, sir.

I don't pay you

to have opinions!

If -- and I repeat, if --

a client is foolish enough

to ask your opinion,

you give her my opinion!

If you have to speak at all,

you say, "Yes, madame;

no, madame; charming weather

for the time of year, madame."

You do not give them

your damned opinion!

It was a good idea

and I gave you credit for it!

Which, young lady,

is the only reason

you are standing here now.

- Yes, Mr. Duroque.

Sorry.

Now, get on

with your work.

We agreed

last time we met.

No, all right, but --

Yes, all right.

9:00, if I can.

If I can.

♪ Johnny was bashful

and shy ♪

♪ Nobody understood why ♪

♪ Mary loved him ♪

♪ All the other girls ♪

♪ passed him by ♪

♪ Everyone wanted

to know ♪

♪ how she could pick

such a beau ♪

♪ With a twinkle ♪

♪ in her eye ♪

♪ she gave this reply ♪

♪ He's not so good

in a crowd

♪ but when you

get him alone ♪

♪ you'd be surprised ♪

♪ He isn't much

at a dance ♪

♪ but, then, when

he takes you home ♪

♪ you'd be surprised ♪

♪ He doesn't look

like much ♪

♪ of a lover ♪

- Isn't Daphne absolutely

the last word?

In what?

- In ability, poppet.

With a voice like that, she

could easily do it for a living.

Can't think why she won't.

Don't you think

she's gorgeous?

- I think she's a slut.

Oh, God, you're not

going to be tedious, are you?

I asked you here so we

could have some fun.

- You asked me here

to do business.

Oh, and the two must

never come together.

Come on, let's sit down

and I'll introduce you to Peter.

Arthur, this is

Peter Lo Ching.

Peter, Arthur Eliott,

the director of the club.

- All my most

favorite people.

How utterly --

Mwah!

Well, it's utterly

something, anyhow.

Didn't you just adore

my song, Arthur?

- Arthur thinks you're

a slut, Daphne.

How quaint.

Your friends are

at the bar, Daphne.

- So they are. Goodo.

Now, Arthur, dear,

this little problem of ours,

I think we solved it.

You know how frightfully

worried I've been

about the club losing money?

Yes.

- Well, dear Peter say he's

going to come in with us.

Isn't he kind?

- "Come in with us"?

In what way?

As a third partner in

the business, Mr. Eliott --

No, I'm sorry, Mr. Lo Ching,

that's quite out of the --

I know you think it's

my inefficiency,

but, darling, it really isn't.

Look at it --

the club's losing money faster

than jelly off a hot plate

and Peter's prepared

to invest

a very substantial sum,

you know.

- Why?

I am a businessman,

Mr. Eliott.

I'm continually looking

for businesses

that can respond

to my investment.

On a carefully controlled

scale, of course.

May I inquire as to the nature

of your portfolio?

I have interests all over

the world, Mr. Eliott,

from shipping

to agriculture.

Oh, I know I should've

consulted you first, darling,

but it really is the answer

to a maiden's prayer.

You don't really mind,

do you?

Ah, good morning. Thank you.

- Good morning.

EVANGELINE: Hello.

- There you are. You can open

the bills, for a change.

Oh, thank you.

What's that?

- From Sebastian.

Sebastian?

What does he want?

- To take us out to dinner.

- Are we going to go?

No, we are not. Tear it up.

- But if it --

Come along. We shall be

late for work.

So, did you get a frightful

wigging after I'd gone?

- Just a bit.

Bear up.

It was worth it.

This is absolutely

the thing.

- Thank you.

I mean it. I know you gave

Duroque the credit, at the time,

but it was quite clearly

your idea.

I say...

Yes?

- I know this is absolutely not

the done thing at all,

and you probably wouldn't

dream of being so disloyal,

but, trouble is,

I'm going skiing after Christmas

and I simply don't have a thing.

May I leave you my card?

You've been working

for Duroque for months, now,

you work all the hours

God gave,

and he pays you

an absolute pittance.

You do private work

at home, anyway.

I don't know what

you're so worried about.

- Yes, well, we've never

actually stolen one

of his customers before.

- The way I heard it,

the customer walked

into your hands

and positively demanded

to be pinched.

"Yielded with coy submission,

modest pride,

and sweet reluctant

amorous delay."

- You should be

on the stage.

Yes, I know.

What do you think, Bea?

- I'm not speaking to you.

- Why ever not?

You were a disgrace yesterday.

- Good God, I can be

much worse than that.

I wasn't even trying.

[Laughter]

Seriously, Bea.

- What does a ski

outfit involve?

Oh, with Miss Spencer,

that could mean anything

from hats and coats

to sparkly afterdarks.

It would be

a good commission.

- It's none

of Napoleon's business,

what you do

with your free time.

- I'll telephone her

for you,

if it'll make you

feel better, all right?

It's terribly practical.

- Terribly daring.

But you have the legs for it.

Besides, you will be skiing.

- Oh, I'm not criticizing.

It's wonderful.

I love being the first

to do anything.

Is it always like this

before a show?

- Oh, no, the autumn

collection's far worse.

Nobody sleeps at all, then.

- Well, I don't feel as if

I've slept for days and days.

You'll get used to it.

Oh, dear.

Evangeline,

what are you doing?

- Le jardin de rose.

Oh, Lord, weren't you told?

Told what?

- Le jardin's been scratched

from the collection.

What?!

Mr. Duroque scrapped

all those gowns.

He has some new ideas

he wants to make room for.

Well, I'm glad someone

bothered to tell me.

Anyone home?

Ah, hello, Tilly.

Bea and Evie still

at work, are they?

They been working most evenings

coming up to the show.

Oh.

Your mum was looking a lot

better, last time I saw her.

Yeah, she is.

This money's

helping out a bit.

- I know this is probably

a silly question,

but wouldn't that be a lot

easier, doing it on the machine?

- Oh, yeah, it would.

It's only that machine

don't work that well.

And, even if it did,

it's still too heavy

to lug over to the light.

- Oh, well, I'll help you,

if you like.

I've done it now,

haven't I?

- Do I detect a certain

disgruntlement?

Eh?

You sound cheesed off.

Yes, I am.

No, not really.

Are things not working out

too well here?

Oh, no, it's not that.

Look at this.

The kiddie's seven.

She'll have grown

out of this by spring.

10 guineas, her mum's

paying for this.

Keep my mum going

for a year, that would.

Can't help being

a bit cheesed off.

Are you sure that's all?

Yeah.

- Hmm?

It's just a bit difficult

sometimes, that's all.

- In what way?

I don't know where I stand.

I mean, sometimes

me and Evie and Miss Bea

have a real laugh

and they come in and they

tell me what they've got up to

and we have a bit

of supper, an' that,

and it's like

we're all together.

See what I mean?

But then, at other times,

it's "Tilly, do this",

"Tilly, fetch that".

It was "Tilly,

take your bleeding dress off"

the other day.

[Laughing]

What?

You'd think,

at 10 guineas a frock,

they'd be able to afford

a new dummy.

Oh, Tilly, I'm sure the last

thing they'd ever want to do

is upset you.

They're both terribly

fond of you.

Yeah, I know.

I'm only having

a little moan.

It's been flippin'

worn out, that's all.

I wouldn't take no notice.

These are the dresses from

the Chapel Street workshop.

The French beanpole

will be showing these,

so hang them separately.

- All right.

Bea, this is one of mine.

- What?!

This is just like the dress

I made for Miss Spencer.

And this one.

Bias-cut fabrics,

dropback hemlines.

These are all my ideas!

- The mannequins have already

left for the show.

Please hurry with the gowns.

- All right, Evie.

It is a splendid collection,

Mr. Duroque.

- Yes, of course it is.

Now --

I particularly like these gowns,

the ones that Evie designed.

Miss Evangeline does not design

for the House of Duroque.

No, but she gives you

some jolly good ideas.

Ha. Ideas, Miss Beatrice,

are just the beginning

of creativity.

It is the house which develops

them to their full potential.

Well, fine. In that case, the

house may put its name to them.

As, indeed,

it already has done!

And Miss Evangeline

will be happy to accept a fee

for her original idea.

- What?

It is almost time

for the show, Mr. Duroque.

Later will do.

I trust you implicitly.

The gowns, if you please.

- Of course.

Miss Evangeline would appreciate

a little credit as well.

Psst.

- You what?

I said, "Psst."

You're on your own?

- Course I am.

- Jolly good.

Brought you a present.

- Eh?

It's my mother's.

Come and see.

- It was,

until Pen pinched it.

Well, she bought it in the war.

She had some extraordinary idea

that she was going to make her

own table napkins, or something.

You know, her contribution

to the war effort.

Never used it,

as far as I know.

We thought it might

come in handy for you.

- It's light, you see, so you

can put it wherever you like.

What, I can keep it?

- Don't see why not.

Oh, yeah, I'd like that.

How does it work?

- I'll show you.

The thing is, Tilly,

it's a bit tricky to use.

It needs someone who knows

what they're doing, so,

well, if I were you,

I wouldn't let Bea and Evie

muck about with it

too much.

Oh, no, Miss Pen.

I'm going to take ever

such good care of it.

Thanks ever so much.

Making quite a name for

themselves, I hear, your girls.

- I believe Mr. Duroque

is very pleased with them.

Not what I heard.

I heard the old boy

was simply furious.

Apparently, they wanted

more money or something.

- I didn't know that.

Daphne told me.

Mind you, that's

nothing to go by.

Daphne looks you

straight in the eye

and tells you the most

appalling fibs, these days.

I don't know what's

got into her.

- Perhaps it's

all the late nights

at those clubs

she frequents.

- Possibly, possibly.

Of course, you're

terribly lucky.

- In what way?

Well, having

Evangeline and Beatrice

right on the doorstep,

so to speak.

Margaret Spencer said

they did her girl, privately;

saved her

an absolute fortune.

You should have them

do a little something for you.

At least

I don't feel guilty

about doing private

work anymore,

not after the way

Duroque behaved.

- How she survives,

I don't know.

Who's that?

- Jeanne Lanvin.

Look at it.

- It's all right.

All right? It's vile!

All these waists

and full skirts.

So old-fashioned.

Looks like a little girl's

party frock.

- Oh, I thought it was

a little girl's party frock.

See?

- [Laughter]

This whole idea of dressing

women up like dolls.

I mean, I could see the point

of it during the war --

you know, give the troops

a little of what they fancy

to cheer them up --

but, honestly, someone

ought to tell Ms. Lanvin

the war's been over

nearly three years.

- Why don't you tell her?

[Laughs]

Fix this.

Oh, Tilly, leave that.

I'll put it away.

- Oh, that's quite

all right, Miss Bea.

I can manage it very well

on my own. Thank you.

[Galloping knock at door]

- That's Piggy.

You look great!

Evening, troops.

How are we all?

Evie's just giving us all

a lecture

on female emancipation.

- I am not.

Oh, glad to hear it.

Can't bear esampernated women.

They do nag one so.

Now, are you sure you don't mind

being left on your own

this evening?

- Of course not.

Well, you can come with us,

if you like.

We weren't planning on doing any

sordid canoodling, or anything.

Piggy!

- No, thanks, anyway.

I think I'll get

an early night in.

Well, what about you,

young Tilly?

Can we give you a lift home?

- What, in your motor car?

Well, I could put you

over my shoulder

in a sort of fireman's

lift, I suppose,

but the car's probably

more comfortable.

Come along. We shall miss

the start of the theatre.

- Oh, right. Sorry.

- Goodnight, Evie.

We won't be very late.

- Fine.

'Night, Evie.

- TILLY: Bye.

[whispering]

Have a lovely time.

I've never been

in a motor car before.

- Oh, well, in that case,

let's do it properly.

Bea won't mind if you hop

in the front. Will you?

- I will not.

[Cackling nearby]

[Cackling]

Hello, Evie.

What are you doing?

- Nothing. Nothing.

I just thought I heard --

[Cackling]

Well, I thought I heard

that, actually.

I just thought there was

someone around.

- I told Mary she could invite

her young man round for supper.

Supper?

Well, you know how it is.

She lives with her mother.

He's in ghastly rooms.

Nowhere else to go.

So, here I am, being forced,

entirely against my will,

to go and have a drink

and listen to some jazz

with some thoroughly

dissolute companions.

Oh.

You're welcome to come along,

if you're at a loose end.

No, thank you.

I've --

I've got some work

to finish off.

But thanks, all the same.

Goodnight.

'Night, Evie.

Oh, sorry.

Can I help you at all?

- Thanks. I've just rung

the bell to the top flat.

Oh, strange.

I didn't hear it.

- Well, maybe it's

still not working.

It wasn't, the last time I came.

- [Chuckle]

Never mind.

I'll just go on up.

- Yes, but --

It's all right.

I know the way.

- Oh. Good evening.

Good evening.

[Knock at door]

Oh.

- Can I come in?

Beatrice isn't here

and I was just going to --

I think it'd probably be better

if you came back another time.

Why?

- Well, because --

Please, don't worry.

I'd have liked

to have seen Beatrice

as well, naturally, but,

I'm just as happy to sit

and have a natter with you.

[Sigh]

- Oh, I see. You weren't just

on your way to bed, were you?

No.

No, I wasn't.

I've been wondering

how you both were.

It was rather difficult,

the last time we met,

and I was worried about you.

Worried?

Well, you didn't

answer my note.

Or were you both so

fearfully cross with me

that you simply couldn't

bear to dine with me?

Something like that, yes.

Well, I don't blame you,

not in the slightest.

I really was most

insensitive and rude.

You weren't rude.

Am I forgiven?

There's nothing

to forgive.

Splendid. Then we

shall start all over again

and be the best of friends.

We ought to be, you know,

considering we are

brother and sister.

We should take ourselves

off to the theater one night

and have a jolly time

and --

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm babbling, aren't I?

It's nerves, you know.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean

to make you nervous.

Oh, you didn't, Evie.

Please, sit down.

No, um --

I'd better not keep you,

especially as you seem

to be so busy.

Oh, no, I've finished for the

night, really; you can stay.

I'd like to,

but I'd better not.

Now that I know

that you and I are friends,

I'll get in touch soon

to arrange that dinner.

Thank you, darling.

There we are.

You see?

All nicely legal

and above-board.

Does that make you

any happier?

Henry wouldn't have made

such a fuss.

- I was not unhappy, Susie,

but you must remember that

I was executor of his estate

and I was a minor

shareholder, myself.

Hmm.

- And then there were three.

You thought we were all going to

get up to unspeakable things.

Don't be ridiculous.

There.

I say, it's rather like

the Three Musketeers, isn't it?

Let's have a toast.

All for one

and one for all.

To partnership

and the club.

- And the club.

This simply won't do,

Mr. Duroque.

I can't possibly spend

that amount on fripperies.

- Ah!

My apologies,

Lady Haycock.

- I think so, too.

Now, then, another appointment,

if you please.

- You're too gracious,

madame. [snap]

Yes, I know I am.

I need something

for Scotland.

- Something from my autumn

collection, perhaps?

Good Lord, man, I said

I was going to Scotland,

not to dance

in the Russian ballet.

I want something...

like that, in tweed.

- Good morning,

Lady Haycock.

Good morning, Diana.

- I'm so sorry, madame.

Miss Spencer has been

unfaithful to me.

I regret that is not one

of my designs.

Diana, who made

that outfit for you?

See, I need a skirt

like that.

Was it Evie?

Oh.

Miss Spencer.

This charming

ensemble of yours,

was it made

by Miss Evangeline?

What?

Well,

well, yes, I'm afraid

I do buy outfits

from several different

couturiers, as you know.

- Your privilege, madame.

Miss Beatrice.

Miss Evangeline.

- Yes, sir.

[whisper] You have tried to make

a fool of me once too often!

There is a limit,

even for my patience!

Get out!

What?!

Now! I'll have your personal

belongings sent round!

You will not spend another

minute in my establishment,

nor, if I have anything

to do with it,

in any other London

fashion house!

Now, leave!

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