All language subtitles for The.Jewel.in.the.Crown.S01E03.Questions.of.Loyalty.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-MZABI_track3_[eng]

*

(insects chirping
and birds cawing)

I came to say good-bye.

Where do you go
to have the baby?

To my Aunt Ethel,
Lady Manners, in Kashmir.

I'm leaving in two days.

You will go through?

Go through to the end?

Why do you ask?

Have they tried
to dissuade you?

Oh, yes.

They make it sound
awfully simple.

Like a duty.

Miss Manners,

I have a confession.

It has been on my conscience.

On the night of Bibighar,

when Mr. Merrick came here
to look for you,

I said to him,

"Perhaps she has called in
at Mrs. Sen Gupta's."

I thought only at that moment
of my concern

for what might have
happened to you.

But then I saw his face,
how he looked round the room,

not just as a policeman

making inquiries
about a missing girl.

As if he could tell
that you and Kumar

had been here together.

It was a moment
of surprise--

the surprise of a man

who felt he had a right to know
all about your movements.

Yes, he seemed to think
he had a right.

He warned me against the
association with Mr. Kumar.

And after this, perhaps it was
that you and Kumar had a quarrel

and did not see
each other again,

so that Mr. Merrick
thought

you had taken his warning
to heart.

Until I spoke those words,

"Perhaps she has called in
at Mrs. Sen Gupta's."

I suppose that's how
it might have happened.

The way it might
have looked to him.

And do you know
where he is?

I've asked,
but nobody will say.

I went to the house
in Chillianwallah Bagh.

His Aunt Shalini
wouldn't speak to me.

She wouldn't even
come out of her room.

So you see,
there's nothing I can do.

It's a sort of silence.

I think now
it's the silence of India,

behind the chatter
and the violence.

That's why he
didn't speak,

why he told them
nothing.

Because there's nothing
you can say.

Only the silence.

DAPHNE:
Hari, can you hear me?

Close your eyes and listen.

The baby is yours.

It's yours and mine together.

It is going to be difficult,
but I'm not afraid.

We're together
in the Bibighar,

always in the Bibighar.

Hari, it will be yours.

It will be yours.

(baby crying)

(birds chirping)

DAPHNE:
Dear Auntie Ethel,

I'm sorry
for all the trouble

and embarrassment
I've caused you.

I began to apologize
once before

when Aunt Lili brought me back
last October,

but you wouldn't listen.

So I apologize now,
not for my behavior,

but for the effect
it's had on you.

I sometimes wonder
what it must be like

to be the aunt of
"that Manners girl."

I know that's how
people talk about me

and that it rubs off onto you.

The awful thing is that
if you ever read this,

I shan't be here to smile

and make the apology
look human.

I write it because
I have premonitions

of not getting through,

and I should hate
to kick the bucket

knowing I'd made no attempt
to set the record straight

and break the silence we both
seem to have agreed upon.

Sorry about the morbid note.

I don't feel morbid, Auntie,
just prepared.

(baby crying softly)

Of course I wasn't a virgin.

I'd had a lover,
if you could call him that,

in London before.

I thought I loved him,

but it is only Hari
I have ever really loved.

Almost more than anything else
in the world,

I want to talk about him
to you.

I've given up hope
of ever seeing him again.

That's why the child I bear
is so important to me,

even though I can't be positive
it is Hari's.

But I think so.

I believe so.

Auntie, promise me one thing.

If the child survives

and you can't bear
to have it near you,

you'll try to see
that my money is used

to give it some kind of start
in life.

I've got myself used
to the idea

you won't want it
under your roof.

Its skin may be as dark
as Hari's or as pale as mine.

But whatever color,

he or she is part
of my flesh and blood.

My own typically ham-fisted
offering to the future.

But, even so, a child.

(baby continues crying)

(sighs)

WOMAN:
Oh, God, it's crying again!

Do you hear?

Yes, I can hear it.

It woke me again
last night.

And I picked this
for a quiet mooring.

(sighs)

Really, it's too bad.

One doesn't come
on holiday to Kashmir

to put up with that
sort of thing.

What sort of thing, Mother?

That baby!

(crying continues)

I can't imagine what Lady
Manners thinks she's doing.

It was bad enough
for the wretched girl

to have the thing.

But for her aunt to keep it!

If that's what she intends.

What do you think
she should have done?

I know what I
should have done

and what the Manners girl
should have done.

"Have it ripped out

and throw the filthy muck
to the pye-dogs"?

That's what I heard
one woman say.

It was her own fault anyway,
if it's true.

If what's true?

That she was in love
with one of the men.

Well, that's what they
were saying up at the Club.

Someone came up
from Mayapore

and got rather squiffy
and spilled the beans.

That she'd been going round
with an Indian,

and that's why she refused
to identify the men:

she was afraid to.

Weren't you there,
Sarah?

We talked about it
at Rose Cottage, last summer.

You remember?

When everyone was talking
about the riots in Mayapore

and the dangers
of a second mutiny.

Yes.

I remember.

We were supposed to be visiting
Auntie Mabel.

WOMAN:
Well, that's the theory,
though honestly,

I can't see how she'll
get away with it.

If she's withholding
evidence, I mean.

For one thing,
there's the bicycle.

The bicycle?

Miss Manners' bike.

Apparently, the police
found it in a ditch

outside her lover's house.

Presumably, he panicked

and used it to escape
from the scene of the crime.

There'd be his
fingerprints, of course.

For heaven's sake,
there must be evidence enough

whatever she may say.

Hello, there!

Ah, Clara, at last!

And look who's with her.

Mabel's PG!

I thought it seemed
too quiet.

Of course I've
written to her,

but it's too early
to have a reply.

I telephoned the hospital.

They said the crisis
was past.

The crisis!

I should have realized
she'd contract pneumonia,

sitting in the rain
for nobody knows how long...

Ah, hello.

Hello.

Hello, Sarah.

Hello, Barbie.

I was just telling
Mrs. Fosdick

about my friend Edwina Crane.

She's making a good recovery,
it seems,

but one doesn't know

after such a terrible
experience.

Attacked on the road,

her car burned out,

the Indian schoolmaster
who was with her

dead in her arms.

Of course it's many years

since I last saw her.

At the Bishop Barnard School
in Muzzafirabad.

CLARA:
If you want a drink,

there's some nimbu
on the trolley.

If you can give me a moment,
I'll go and fetch it for you.

It's in my trunk, I'm sure.

Something I promised
to show Mrs. Fosdick.

I'll bring it out here,
then you can see.

What treat have we
in store?

I think it's some sort
of picture.

She was chatting on.

To do with her friend
in Mayapore.

Miss Batchelor's
reflected glory.

Pankot is all ears.

CLARA:
Seriously, Nicky,

I'm worried about her.

My ricky
almost knocked her down.

Where?

In Club Road,
on the way up here.

She was wandering about
all over the shop

and talking to herself.

Not really?

She jolly well was!

Not in a loud voice,
I mean,

but definitely talking.

I stopped
and picked her up.

I got the impression...

Well, she was talking
to her friend Miss Crane.

Well, that's what I think.

And directly she got
into the rickshaw,

she said how kind it was
of Mabel

to let her invite Miss Crane
to Rose Cottage

as soon as she
was well enough.

Then she started talking
about this picture

and insisted I should see it.

Gosh!

NICKY:
Does Mabel seriously intend

to turn Rose Cottage
into a home for ex-missionaries?

(laughing)

One is enough if you ask me!

BARBIE:
I've found it!

(sighs)

"A place for everything

and everything in its place,"
as my mother used to say.

"The Jewel in the Crown."

That's what
the picture's called.

Edwina has one as well.

She used it for teaching
the children English.

"Here is the Queen,
here in her crown" and so on.

Pictures are so important

when you're instructing
the young, don't you agree?

Of course
one has to be careful...

Sarah, you'd like to see.

Yes, Edwina once told me,
in the end, she had an idea

the children confused her
with Victoria!

Isn't that amusing?

But you must admit,
the artist got everything in.

Princes, generals, paupers,

children, statesmen,

and old Victoria in the middle
on her throne in the open air.

Quite absurd, of course,
because she never came to India.

But it's allegorical
because the jewel isn't the one

the prince is offering
to his sovereign.

The jewel is India.

Disraeli's empire.

Yes, the jewel is India.

So what happened
about the bicycle?

The bicycle?

Miss Manners' cycle.

Was it used
in evidence?

There was no trial.

But there was something fishy
about that bike.

Some Indian sub-inspector
made a mistake

and people started saying
the evidence was rigged.

So they had to lock
the culprits up

under the Defense
of India rules.

It was the district
superintendent of police

who got the push, of course.

The usual thing.

Civil or military,
if you show some guts,

they give you a medal first,
then boot you off the scene.

India's going, anyway.

They're only waiting
till we've won the war.

If Gandhi doesn't hand it over
to the Japanese first.

How could he?

He's locked up, too.

MAN:
Are, dosht!

(speaking Hindi)

Hello.

I must say,
it's getting rather awkward.

SARAH:
What is?

This thing
with Lady Manners.

I passed quite close earlier

and she was sitting out there
on deck.

Mummy, what do you think
I should have done?

Suppose she'd waved?

Well, I'm not
starting anything, Susan.

One can ignore a wave.

Well, perhaps she doesn't want
to speak to us.

And what on earth could you say
about the baby?

Where's Mohammed gone?

I'm dying for a drink.

There's some nimbu there.

Sarah, do be an angel.

Were there any letters
at the boat station?

Nothing for you or Mother.

One for me.

From Teddie?

He sounds pretty miserable,
according to the latest.

Flying to Mirat.

Of course
he didn't fancy that,

not having flown before.

Gorgeous!

And he's getting worried

about the wedding.

Hang on a sec.

Yes.

"I haven't spoken
to the G1 yet,

"so things on that front
are pretty static.

"About getting leave
for the wedding.

"It's rather hard
to know the form.

"The worst thing about Mirat
at present is the weather.

"It's rained on and off
every day,

"which is rotten
for exercises,

and thunder every bally night,
which makes it hard to sleep."

(sighs)

Well!

(thunder)

(sighs)

Oh, God!

Chota hazri.

I say!

Hosain.

Sahib.

There's someone
in the bed.

Good Lord!

Who is it?

Didn't hear him arrive.

(bugle playing)

(yawns)

MERRICK:
"I hope I didn't disturb you.

"My train was badly held up
and I didn't get in till 0300.

"I've asked our orderly
to call me with tea at 0830,

"so shall skip breakfast.

"I look forward to meeting you
later in the day

"and perhaps eating together.

"Meanwhile, my thanks,

"and apologies
for any noise last night.

Ronald Merrick."

Well, gentlemen, you've listened
to me long enough.

The period ahead will be tough
for all of you.

Intensive training
in jungle warfare

to meet with the Japanese again
in Burma.

This time on our terms.

The only thing I promise you
is this:

you won't have time
to be bored.

(polite laughter)

I ask you now
to give your attention

to a junior officer

who has recently joined
my intelligence staff.

What he will tell you
is confidential and important

to the picture of the enemy
we expect to meet.

He's a rare bird:

an officer
of the civil authority

who's persuaded
his department

to let him into the Army
for the duration of the war.

I don't wish to embarrass him,
but I can tell you

he could have chosen
an appointment

with more glamorous epaulets.

Instead, he chose an active role
and the rank of captain.

So, Captain Merrick,

would you take over now,
please?

No standing, gentlemen,
to save disruption.

(squad drilling outside)

I say, that's the fellow
who's in my room!

How do you take to him?

I haven't spoken
to him yet.

(clears his throat)

In 1940, a man called
Subhas Chandra Bose,

under arrest
as an extremist member

of the Indian National Congress,

escaped from India
through Afghanistan.

Nothing exceptional in that.

But Mr. Bose went to Berlin.

And what he did
in Germany

may come as a surprise
to some of you.

With the declared intention
of carrying on

what he called
India's fight for freedom,

he succeeded in raising a unit
of battalion strength

from among Indian
prisoners of war

to assist Hitler
in fighting us.

(soldier coughing)

Remember,

these men were far from home,
deprived of the one thing

the Indian Army
has always been justly proud of:

the high level of trust
between officers and men.

Mr. Bose, I must tell you,
is now in Tokyo,

having traveled,

not as he entered Afghanistan,
in a tonga,

but in a submarine.

(laughter)

Circumstances since 1940

have moved greatly
to his advantage.

Now, there are many thousands
of Indian prisoners of war

taken by the Japanese
in Burma and Malaya,

and Mr. Gandhi himself,
on behalf of Congress,

has called on us to leave India
to God or anarchy.

It must be easy then

for leaderless,
lonely and misguided sepoys

to believe that the days of
British imperialism are over

and that it is now the duty
of every patriotic Indian

to join an army,
to help the Japanese

drive us out of India
for good and all.

Such an army has been formed.

Intelligence reports
indicate that it is called

the Azad Hind Fauj,
or Indian National Army,

which I'll refer to
as the INA.

And some of you,

perhaps in Burma, are going
to meet it in the field.

Which is why
what I have to tell you,

although confidential
and in some ways disturbing,

may be of use.

MAN:
Extraordinary!

He arrives mysteriously
in the middle of the night

and pops up
like a jack-in-the-box

at the briefing.

It was good stuff,
I thought.

A bit worrying,
of course.

Actually, I should
have spoken to him after,

but he was talking
to the Brigadier.

About the INA--

there's something
he may not have thought of.

Here's your chance now.

Well, here goes.

I'm Teddie Bingham--
what'll it be?

I mean, I'm the fellow
you're sharing quarters with.

Yes.

We meet at last, then.

Bearer!

Can I get you a beer?

Or perhaps you don't
at tiffin.

That's very good of you,
but I'm rather pressed.

I've got to be
somewhere at 2:00,

so I'm going to go right in.

Could we make it
this evening?

Yes, of course.

Good.

We'll have to get
to know each other.

By the way, congratulations.

Congratulations?

Hosain, the orderly,
tells me you're getting married

very soon.

Oh, did he?

Well, yes, I am.

Thanks.

Interesting,
all that stuff this morning.

No idea anything like that
was going on.

Only been in bloody India
six months, though.

What was he, do you know?

I mean,
in the Indian government?

You mean in the Civil?

I've no idea.

Ah!

A sort of spy,
do you reckon?

Eh?

Um...

Hold on a sec.

I say, what awful chaps
you come across nowadays.

Who?

The fellow over there.

The sort you meet in pubs
on the Kingston bypass.

Are you coming in?

Actually, I think I'll skip
tiffin today.

I've got that
sinking feeling.

It's just come on.

There's a lot of it about,
they say.

I'll see you
at the daftar after.

All right, old man.

NEWS ANNOUNCER:
Pictorial news from Burma,

where a cameraman
is stationed near Mayu

and operating
with General Wavell's army

turns his camera
on British and Indian troops

disembarking from sampans
on their way to the front.

(newsreel music playing)

The carrying of supplies

creates a demand
for manual labor.

There are colored boys out east

willing to lend a hand
and a shoulder.

In the hill country
known as the Arakan Youma,

jungle fighting
is the lot of men

now acclimatized to the
hardships of tropical warfare.

More often than not,
they don't see their enemy.

They fire at sound,

and they're pretty darned quick
with the trigger finger.

(machine gun fire)

Smoke hangs
over the dark green tangle

of the Burmese no-man's-land.

On the Arakan Front,

you'll find a strange
collection of men,

but as hardy and as fine
as they make 'em.

Where's Hosain?!

On mess duty, damn it!

SUSAN:
Darling Teddie,
thanks for your lovely letter.

Oh, bugger!

Bugger this!

(men yelling)

SUSAN:
August 23, 1943.

Srinagar.

Darling Teddie,
thanks for your lovely letter,

though I was sorry
to hear about your journey

and the rotten weather.

It's lovely here today and
the lake looks cool and misty,

and I do miss you a lot.

Oh, God!

(sobbing)

SUSAN:
Now what about that leave,
darling?

Don't want to nag,
but you must know

there's heaps to be done
before the wedding.

Please get it fixed as soon as
poss and let me know.

Oh, Susan...

Darling...

Soldier!

Hosain!

Hosain!

Sahib?

Where's it gone?

There was a bicycle
out there.

Bicycle, Sahib?

Bicycles are here.

I know that, you ass!

There was another bike
out there.

Before tiffin.

Memsahib's bike.

It was all bashed up
with one wheel missing.

Sahib, bicycle no good.

One wheel is missing.

I don't want the bloody thing!

I want to know
where's it gone!

How am I telling, Sahib?

Only I am seeing bicycles
are here.

MERRICK:
Hosain!

Coming, Sahib!

Ah, there you are!

Sorry about lunchtime.

I didn't see you come
to the dining room, by the way.

As a matter of fact, I...
I got rather taken short.

Oh! Mirat tummy?

Sort of.

I've got some stuff
that will settle that.

I expect you've been
sitting under a fan

or drinking
too much iced beer.

Hold on, I'll
get it for you.

It's all right,
I'll pour.

It tends to come out
in a dribble

and then in a rush.

It cements you up.

If you have another dose
of that in the morning,

you'll be as right
as rain.

Thanks.

It, uh... it must be
the humidity.

I've been stationed
up in the hills

the past few months.

Not used to it.

Actually, the humidity here
is fairly low.

Have you ever been
in Sundanagar?

I've never even heard
of Sundanagar.

Your shoes go green overnight.

I had an inspector there

who swore he was getting
webbed feet.

And he was an Indian!

An inspector?

Were you in the Indian police,
then?

DSP.

I say, Merrick...

Yes?

You'd think at least
that little blighter

could change my shoes.

Where's he gone?

He may be on an errand.

Oh.

One for me.

Sorry.

There's a shoehorn
in my kit

you may find useful.

And then we'll go over
to the Mess

and have that drink together.

All right?

You know
what I've been thinking?

About what you said
this morning about the INA.

Most of those fellows who have
gone over to the Japs

could be wangling their way
out of prison

to get back to us.

That's what I can't help
thinking.

Precisely.

Uh...

Precisely what?

That's what you can't help
thinking.

As an officer in the
Muzzafirabad Guides.

Your father's regiment,
I expect, too.

I'm afraid I think
all that's a myth.

Devotion to the Raj,
loyalty of the humble Indian.

My experiences
as a police officer

have blighted my enthusiasm
for ideas like that.

But then, my origins and yours
were probably quite different.

I was a grammar school boy.

Oh, really?

I was an awful duffer at school
if it comes to that.

You don't think it's true, then,
what I said?

That these men
aren't really traitors?

I think it's true that many
of them will persuade themselves

they have fine motives
for doing what they want.

Isn't that
what we all do?

All right.

But I still think
there are a few things

one just doesn't do.

I don't blame
the other ranks so much.

But when it comes to King's
commissioned officers,

whatever color...

That's beyond the pale.

Yes.

MAN:
See you in there, Teddie!

Does a bicycle have any special
significance to you, old man?

A bicycle?

What do you mean,
"special significance"?

Well, as a sort of symbol
of the INA.

Not that I'm aware of.

Why?

I found one on the veranda
at tiffin.

It wasn't there
when I got back this evening.

A lady's bike--
it was broken.

Just that?

A broken bicycle?

Well, there were
these marks, too.

Like some kind of puja
in front of the door.

I'm afraid I scuffed them out.

What a pity.

Do you remember the marks
in any detail?

I'm afraid not.

I say, do you think
I was right?

About what?

The INA.

Possibly.

Have you told anyone?

I asked Hosain.

He didn't know
what I was talking about.

I expect the little beggar

thought I was accusing him
of something.

Have you mentioned
the bicycle and the marks

to anyone else?

No.

Then I shouldn't.

Between ourselves?

Yes.

Now let me get you another
of those before we eat.

Bearer!

Do burra peg soda.

To kill the bugs!

So... when's the wedding?

December or earlier.

Earlier, surely.

Once jungle training starts,
you won't get the chance.

If you've decided
to get married,

I'd do it right away
here in Mirat.

There's a hill station
called Nanoora

that's quite close if you've
only two or three days.

Two or three days?

It's quite possible.

Good Lord!

We hadn't seen it
a bit like that.

I mean...

How had you seen it?

A proper wedding in Pankot.

That's where we met--
her father's station.

Cheers!

Her father?

Colonel Layton, Pankot Rifles.

He's a prisoner of war
in Germany, by the way.

I see.

So, it'll have to be
a pukka wedding.

Pankot expects.

That sort of thing.

What about after Christmas?

I shouldn't count on it.

You seem well informed.

Well advised.

But two or three days?

Here in Mirat?

What about the guests?

Her family?

There might be a way
to handle that,

if you don't mind
a suggestion.

I should say not.

If there's anyone round here
who knows the score,

it seems to be you.

Are you married, Merrick?

Uh, no, I'm...

...not.

What's the scheme?

I'll tell you
over dinner.

"Actually, it's all turned out
to be quite simple--

"rather exciting, in fact.

"Can't remember if I told you,

but Mirat is a princely
Indian state..."

This is the bit.

"It seems the old Nawab

"has a guest house
in the palace grounds

"that he's made available
to us for special visitors.

"There's tons of room
for all of your family,

"including Aunt Fenny
and Uncle Arthur.

"I've checked with the SSO

"and it's free
for the October dates we want.

"Sorry it's such an awful rush,
but it could be fun.

"There's a nice old church
in the cantonment

"and afterwards, we can shoot up
to the Nanoora Hills

in just a few hours."

Well?

72 hours is all they've
given us.

What do you think?

Doesn't appear
you have much choice.

Full marks to him

for information
and method, anyhow.

Doesn't sound
like Teddie.

What?

To be so organized.

There's more to Teddie
than you think.

Yes, of course.

There must be.

Mummy?

Really, it's what
you think, Susan.

You're the one
who has to decide.

Well, I think it will be fun.

Of course, people in Pankot
will be disappointed.

Furious.

But it's my wedding,
so we'll just have to tell them.

They know there's a war.

Yes.

Daddy can't be there
in any case,

so it won't be the same.

MRS. LAYTON:
At least there's
one good thing.

SUSAN:
What's that?

MRS. LAYTON:
We'll have
to go home early.

So we'll send Mohammed round
to her houseboat

and he can drop in a card.

SUSAN:
I'll have to think.

There's such a lot to do.

"Apologies.

No time to call."

That's that.

*

Good afternoon!

Lady Manners,
may I come on board?

Why yes, of course.

Suleiman, help the Memsahib!

I'm Sarah Layton
from the next houseboat.

You sent us your card.

Ah, yes.

So I was bringing you ours.

But as I saw you...

My mother and sister
have gone to the bazaar,

so I thought I'd call.

Miss Layton,

I've seen your family
on several occasions.

Yes.

Quite honestly,

we didn't know what to do,
what we should say.

About the awful business
of your niece, I mean.

That's why
we haven't called.

But now you have.

We're going home
in a few days,

so it was the last chance.

I wondered,
if you wouldn't mind,

if I could see the baby.

I've often heard her.

You want to see Parvati?

Is that her name?

Yes, if I may.

I shall be delighted.

Will you follow me?

Of course,
she may be asleep.

Layton Memsahib
to see Parvati.

May I?

(baby babbling)

She's so tiny!

Thank you.

Miss Layton,
will you take tea?

Please.

I should love to.

I think of Daphne often.

Her mother looked
healthy enough,

but she died young.

And Dr. Krishnamurti
warned Daphne.

It was dangerous
for her?

The labor, yes.

She never saw the child.

Pankot!

Henry and I were there
quite often

during the time he was governor
of the province.

We never met your parents,
though.

Your father commands
the 1st Pankot Rifles?

Yes.

Mmm.

It's sad he can't be
at your sister's wedding.

Now, she is...?

Susan.

And you are Sarah.

I have it now.

And two years younger
than you are.

Well, you will like Mirat.

I suppose
lending the guest house

is part of the Nawab's
war effort.

He must be getting on a bit.

So must his Wazir--

an extraordinary
Russian emigre Count.

Bronowsky, I think.

You must look out for him.

The English used to hate him

until they realized
what a good influence he was.

Shall you be sorry to go back
early to your station?

Yes, in some ways.

Lady Manners, I wonder if you
could give us some advice.

We've been talking
about a present--

something to give the Nawab for
letting us have the guest house.

As you knew him quite well,

perhaps you could suggest
what he might like.

A present?

We just couldn't think.

Well, you know the Nawab
is distantly related

to ex-Chief Minister Kasim.

A charming man!

Unfortunately,
we've put him in prison.

And both of them are related

to the 18th century Urdu poet,
Gaffur.

I think the most flattering gift

might be a specially bound copy
of Gaffur's poems.

That's a wonderful idea.

You can get one in Srinagar
and easily have it bound there.

Though that might take
a few days.

There's certainly a shop
in Ranpur in the bazaar

where they do excellent
leatherwork

and gold-leaf blocking.

You could arrange for it
on your way through.

Is that a good idea?

Yes!

I'm sorry,
I was just thinking...

What?

What a lot you know.

(chuckling)

It's one of the advantages
of old age.

One becomes a repository

for casual bits and pieces
of information.

Some of them
are useful.

I didn't mean that.

I'm sorry.

What I meant was "know,"
not "remember."

I can't quite explain.

Please forgive me, I've taken up
too much of your time.

But I have time.

In some ways.

Will you come again?

Yes, if I can.

I understand.

*

Hello!

Auntie Mabel!

Hello!

Ah!

We're back again.

Mother and Susan
are busy at home.

They asked me to give you
their love.

Did you enjoy
the holiday?

We had to come back early.

Susan's getting married
in Mirat.

The plans are all changed.

I know.

Barbie told me.

(groans)

She heard it
at the Club library.

She brings me all the news,
you see.

Mother would have written.

There wasn't time.

How beautiful
the garden looks.

Does it?

You do such a lot.

Yes, but it often strikes me

as something the gods
once loved and then forgot.

It should have died young.

I'm not here forever.

And I'm not sure
that I love it enough.

Have you seen Barbie?

I think she's in the house.

I know she'll want to see you.

I'll go up and say hello.

Aziz will bring you
anything you want.

Of course, I've been dying
to have a chat

about the wedding.

It's so exciting!

Thank you, Aziz.

A wedding in Mirat!

I've never been there,
but I've seen photographs.

Palaces, mosques
and minarets!

And Susan in her veil
will be standing by a fountain.

Have you noticed
how still she has become

since the engagement
was announced?

Or have I imagined it?

You don't take sugar,
do you?

No, thank you, Barbie.

And how will you manage
on the journey?

Well, Tony Bishop
is to be best man.

Yes, they'd arranged that.

He's applied for leave
to general ranking,

so he'll be able
to travel with us.

So you'll have a man
on the journey.

And will the Nawab be
at the wedding?

I'm sure he'll be invited.

Perhaps he won't come.

It might be rather... fraught,
if that's the word I want.

How do you mean?

Well, we locked up
a relative of his.

Mohammed Ali Kasim,
the Muslim Congressman.

Put him in the clink!

But then India's
full of oddities like that.

Have you talked to Mabel
about the wedding?

No, not really.

Is she very disappointed
now she can't come?

Oh, I'm sure she'd have liked
to be there, but...

Mirat's so far-- too far.

She gets tired easily
and she does too much.

You'd have liked to come, too,
wouldn't you, Barbie?

Me? Oh, I shouldn't
have been there in any case.

Your mother
wouldn't want me...

Why do you say that?

We won't...

We mustn't talk about it.

Why?

Why mustn't we?

It's not about me.

It's nothing
to do with me.

It's to do with...
Mabel and your mother.

But you see,
I am the cause.

Of what?

Of ill feeling.

Oh.

Oh, I'm not such a fool.

I can see.

I know what people say.

"You should be living here.

Rose Cottage belonged
to your grandfather."

And if Mabel had still been

living here alone
when war began,

you would have
come here.

But she didn't want
to be here alone.

She wanted someone
to share Rose Cottage with.

That's how you came.

But still, you see,
I am the cause.

There's nothing I can do.

Everyone in Pankot says that
Rose Cottage is too big for us

and the grace
and favor bungalow

too small for all of you.

Auntie Mabel would never leave
Rose Cottage.

Everyone knows that.

Do you think
your mother does?

After all,
she isn't your aunt.

She's your grandfather's
second wife.

We've always called her
Auntie Mabel.

It's what she wanted
since we were children.

She's your mother's
stepmother-in-law.

Mothers-in-law
are bad enough!

There was a song my father
used to sing when he was merry.

We were going to talk
about the wedding

and look, I'm going on
about my father!

I've got to go.

Thanks for the
coffee, Barbie.

Oh, you've hung the picture!

Yes, Aziz did it for me.

He likes to look at it.

And it reminds me of Edwina.

"This is the jewel,
here is the crown."

How many of those children
did I bring to God?

That's what I wonder.

And has he any purpose?

She burnt herself.

Soaked the walls
with paraffin...

of the garden shed.

When she came out
of hospital.

A fearful thing.

She never answered my letters.

(fire crackling)