All language subtitles for Austen8E03

(Birdsong)

Elizabeth, I'll tell you this for free.

If one of us doesn't get through this door,
I'm gonna do something drastic.

(Banging)

Oh!

Whatever do you do, sir,
sleeping in the library?

What I do, madam, is collide
with folly and conceit

whenever I am rash enough
to step outside this room.

Henceforth, I am minded to remain here.

Are you not happy
that Jane is wed to Mr Collins?

Happy?

That my kindest, prettiest daughter

has embarked upon an adulthood
of supplication

to such a preening Caliban?

Happy, madam, that she should live
in subjugation to such an enormity?

I would rather sleep in a drain
than consent to be happy!

(Mrs Bennet) Mr Bennet...

I haven't slept a wink.

Lizzie lost at books,
now Jane taken to another county.

What Jane's done for Papa, I'd rather die.

Door, pickaxe -
a most satisfying juxtaposition.

Often wondered who was silly enough
to leave this here.

Serves no earthly purpose.

Please reassure Mrs Bennet
I'll be out of the house in ten minutes.

I shan't take anything I didn't bring with me.

- Don't forget that.
- It's not mine.

- I don't know how to thank you.
- Yes, you do.

Be reconciled with Jane.

Do it soon.

(Bell tolls)

Good morning, Mrs Collins.

You may be wondering why I have not
called upon you in the night

to claim the rapture that is mine...

as ordained by the Redeemer.

I'm engaged in a period of abstinence,

for the purpose of purification.

But when that period is concluded...

Oh, Mrs Collins!

I have a mind to shear off all my hair.

Really?

Anything to alter that expression
of sentimental disappointment.

What expression would you have me wear?

I love Miss Bennet still.

But she is no longer Miss Bennet.

She is now Mrs Collins.

On your departure, my daughters
may seek to engage you in conversation.

I would prefer it if they weren't successful.

Your parting words of wisdom are treasures
my girls can live without.

You really do think
I'm some sort of disease, don't you?

Spunk.

Do you know the word?
It's soldier's slang.

The men use it to applaud
a particular species of reckless courage.

To my eye, Miss Price, you have spunk.

Hmm.

How you hate me.

And yet, here you are.

- What choice do I have?
- Well, precisely.

Now, you wish to crawl back into society
and for this, you need me.

So, prepare the meagrest of ingredients
with confidence and style

and you shall serve a banquet.

How much money do you have?

- A pound.
- I have two.

I shall give you one of them
and together, we shall buy you a dress.

- I smile, yes?
- Yes.

The humble fan, for when one is consumed
by one emotion

but is constrained to exhibit another.

Why are you doing this?

You want instruction
in the arts of bearing and tone.

- Do not touch your nose.
- I've got an itch.

Ladies are strangers to the itch.

Show me the coquette imperial.

You're selling me stale eggs at market.
Do it again.

Better. Show your face.

Acquaintances. Consider
your very good friends the de Seracés.

The n'est plus ultra of Parisian society -

dear Prince Gustav,
his charming wife, Marie.

Their collection of porcelain
is quite unparalleled.

- I've never heard of these people.
- They don't exist.

- Of course.
- Of course.

I've always found them
commendably useful.

I thought we were at war with France?

Our war with France is traditional.
War with Paris, it's unthinkable.

Society doesn't recognise it.

What we shall do with you
is have you married to a rich man.

I am the one person around here who is
absolutely not going to marry anybody,

rich or otherwise.

I've buggered up this story and now I have
to rebuild my friendship with Jane Collins.

- I'm going to write her a letter.
- Clever.

And if you don't like it,
you can take your dress...

- What?
- You shall be reconciled with Jane,

she shall invite you to her house
in the grounds of Rosings,

owned by Darcy's dismal Aunt Catherine,

who is the cloaca through whom
all society must pass.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. The person
I am most not going to marry is Darcy.

I did not suggest it.
And yet you thought of it.

That's interesting.
Go to Jane at once, forget the letter.

That's out of order, Wickham.

Unless it's absolutely necessary,

I am never going to speak to Darcy again.

If I have to I'll be so bum-crushingly correct,
he'll faint with boredom

and I'll just step right over him, fanning.

You have made this house very...

comfortable.

The furnishings and decoration are under
the personal jurisdiction of Lady Catherine.

Yes, that would explain it.

Jane, I don't expect you
or Mr Collins to welcome me.

Please accept my apologies
and my congratulations,

though they are both shamefully overdue.

That's it.

But if you ever need me, Jane,
just say the word, I'll hear you, I'll come.

My dear, you forget that we dine
with Lady Catherine tonight.

I had forgot. We must hurry.

Your guest is tolerated at the Parsonage

but under no circumstances
can she be presented at Rosings.

Your husband is quite correct.

A person like myself

cannot possibly sit at the same table
as Lady Catherine De Bourgh.

You must. You cannot leave me
to be devoured by Lady Catherine.

But it is awkward.

I am charged
with passing Lady Catherine a message

from Princess Marie de Seracé of Paris.

Dear Marie made me swear
I would deliver the greeting personally.

But I am sure it is quite all right
if you do it for me, Mr Collins.

On the contrary,

you have been charged, Miss Price,
with a most important mission.

- You must obey your instructions.
- If you say so, sir, I must.

Ahem.

This is she.

No, no. This would never have done at all.

Before one even addressed
the matter of trade,

the complexion is too weathered.

No, for you, Mr Collins,
the Bennet girl is much more suitable.

The dress, however, is acceptable.

- Ah, Fitzwilliam, there you are.
- Aunt.

The usual people are here to dine.
This Miss Price, also.

Anne, come to your mother.

At dinner, you shall sit beside Miss Price.

It will be a useful exercise

for you to make conversation with a person
with whom you have nothing in common.

Now, let us have music.
Who shall play for us?

Miss Price disdains the pianoforte,
Lady Catherine,

- but she has the voice of an angel.
- You are acquainted?

Lady Catherine, I forget my duty.

I bring the affectionate greetings
of the Princess de Seracé.

Dear Marie wanted you to know that
you are always welcome at the chateau.

Dear Marie is, as you know,
very dedicated in her friendship.

She never forgets my birthday.

I, on the other hand, forget the whereabouts
of the de Seracés' chateau.

Paris, Mr Darcy. The Right Bank.

The de Seracés' house occupies
rather a lot of it.

I confess I am none the wiser.

No, sir. But you are better informed.

Fitzwilliam, you recall the lake
with its charming crocodiles

and the little ducks bobbing about.

Dear Marie. Your pronunciation is so
singular that I did not recognise the name.

How are the de Seracés?

- How's the Prince?
- He is very well, Lady Catherine.

(Singing in German)

It is, as you are perfectly well aware,
quite impossible for you to be here.

Painfully aware, sir.

Against my better judgment,
I've come at the insistence of Mrs Collins.

If you can persuade her
to send me home, I'd be most obliged.

Don't they make a lovely couple.

It's not my fault
Miss Bennet chose to marry Mr Collins.

- It was a decision freely made.
- Quite.

- This is a free society.
- Absolutely.

She was not constrained at the point of a
dagger to take the imbecile Collins to her bed.

Everywhere I behold the squalid prospect

of grasping arrivistes, harlots and liars
scrambling over each other

in the sewer that is existence
outside society.

The prospect is, indeed, frightful.

Mr Collins says that Lady Catherine's
buttresses are the talk of the county.

Buttresses?

Being a woman, I know so little
about architecture, of course,

- but I think they form...
- Yes, I know what buttresses are.

First set, Miss Price.

New balls, please.

How long does this obtain, Mr Bennet?
This dissension?

If Jane's marriage persists
in provoking such distemper,

I am resolved to take the carriage and visit
Mrs Collins at Rosings Park with Lydia.

It will be instructive for her
to observe a happy marriage.

If you can contrive to find one of those
at Rosings, Mrs Bennet,

I shall prance the length
of Lady Catherine's drawing room naked.

(Darcy) Leave the room, Collins, now.

I am astonished to be addressed thus
in my own house.

My aunt's house.

Go, please.

You wish to speak to me, sir?

I am...

concerned.

- I don't understand.
- You came to this house

knowing you'd be brought
to Lady Catherine's, that I would be there

and knowing the abysmal disregard
in which I hold you.

Why, when I am, as you insist,
so relentlessly unpleasant to you

do you persist in seeking me out?

Well, I didn't seek you out.
You came to me.

- Why?
- I don't know.

You must know.

I do not and my lack of comprehension
is dementing me.

Mrs Collins needs me. Good night.

Are you quite sure
this is what you mean to do?

He is in love with you.

No, he can't be.

That doesn't make sense at all,
that's crazy.

Darcy, OK, and Elizabeth Bennet
of Longbourn,

not Darcy and Amanda Price of W6.

Lizzie did not come to my wedding.

She has detached herself
from the fortunes of this family.

It is a thing that she has chosen.

You must acknowledge this, Miss Price,
in your own choosing.

I think you are a good person

and you deserve happiness.

Stilton...

Ioganberries...

- Ooh, hartshorn jelly.
- Oh!

- And medlars from the orchard, Jane.
- Does Papa not want his medlars?

If he did not speak up for them,
he only has himself to blame.

Indeed, all has been askew since
your arrival and here you are again.

And this is for Lady Catherine.

Mrs Hill's spiced cream,

set with calf's foot.

Will she like it?

You should have told me you were visiting -
that is a fault -

but I shall overlook it as I have decided
I like very well this daughter of yours.

She is... douce.
She has a natural gentilesse.

Not of the same calibre as Miss Bingley,
of course,

but that is breeding, a matter in which
your daughters are disadvantaged.

But that can be surmounted,
within reason.

You will be relieved to hear
that I have plans for them all.

- Mm?
- Mr Collins has brothers.

They are not all as pleasing
in conversation or countenance as he

but they will do very well for your offspring.

Quite so. Say not another word,
leave it to me.

Being an enthusiast of Mr Collins,
you would endorse such an arrangement?

I try not to judge people I've never met.

You are a philosopher, Miss Price.

I would I could be like you.

Certainly you would benefit
from an occupation of some kind.

You have no function, Mr Darcy,
no purpose.

Of course not. What a disgusting idea.

That is the raison d'être of society.
We must be seen to be unoccupied.

He'sjust so toxic!
How can Jane think I'm the girl for him?

Her ladyship must demand the festival
for the senses that is Miss Price's music.

You think you're the girl for him.

Step off, Caroline,
you conniving, smirking...

Bum face.

Did I say that out loud?
Er, it is a card game, Lady Catherine.

You might know it as Humpty Dumpty.

Lady Catherine does not trifle
with common games of cards.

- Seven?
- Seven reverses the order.

Not that I necessarily have a seven.

You will not play, Mr Darcy?

When the unwitting are to be relieved of the
burden of their money, I prefer not be a party.

Mr Bingley, I can see your hand.

Ah! Such an elegant card.

- Can you beat it?
- I cannot.

That's a guinea for me, Mr Collins.

- Who plays now?
- Mr Bingley plays to me.

Mr Bingley, sir, look lively, you must bet.

Charles, you are too amusing.
That is Papa's hunter.

It is eccentric of you to wager
an heirloom of pure gold at such a game.

- It is your inheritance.
- Mine.

Not yours. I offer you a knave, Miss Price.

Shall you better him?

She conquers you with a king, sir,

and claims her booty.

A bet is a bet, Miss Price.

- Take the watch.
- I would, Mr Bingley, with pleasure,

had this not been a practice game.

The first round is always a practice.

I should've made that clear - sorry.
It's a rule.

Now, shall we play for real?

You've done well today, my dear.

You've won your hostess a guinea,
you've spared the blushes of Mr Bingley

but you cannot have Fitzwilliam Darcy,
Miss Price,

however good you are at games.

But I don't want Mr Darcy.

What you want, my dear,
frightens you to death.

That is why you fail
to comprehend yourself.

- Where do you go, Charles?
- To the devil.

To any place that'll serve a man
a proper drink!

Wickham. To drink with Wickham.

- That is ill-advised.
- Would you counsel me on this now,

with whom I may or may not consort
to drink gin?

She loves me still. To what unrelenting
misery have I condemned her?

On your instruction.

Damn you.

And damn everyone who won't put a light
in his window and stay up all night

damning you!

Er, Miss Price...

Oh.

I am decided I was wrong.

About Charles and Miss Bennet.

I should never have obstructed them,
it was a shameful cruelty

against your blameless friend

and I beg your propitiation for it.

Prove to me that I am forgiven.

Come to Pemberley.

My sister Georgiana has want of company.

Did I dream you've just invited me
to Pemberley, Mr Darcy?

I thought I heard you say,
"Come to Pemberley."

I did indeed, madam, I thought it might
prove diverting,

for you and Miss Lydia and...

Miss Price.

That's settled, then.

Good.

Good night.

I never thought I'd be asked to Pemberley.

No, it's... pretty unprecedented.

(Kitty) I'll tell him.

From Lydia, Mr Bennet. She writes to say...

She and Mama are invited
to Pemberley to stay - for days.

- I shall write to the Prime Minister.
- Why do we never go anywhere, Papa?

Lydia and your mother are at large
in society, my dear.

It is enough for society to be getting on with.

What news of Jane?

No news of Jane. Mama frets about
the inappropriateness of her hat...

It is too much excitement for me to bear.
Thank you, ladies.

Whoa!

- My lady.
- Are we there, yet?

We are indeed within the park
of Pemberley, are we not?

Lydia, refresh yourself.

Here, hold the glass.

Oh, Lydia, you wobble so.

Ah, I find you reclassifying your beads.

The taxonomic principle being colour,
spectrum left to right.

Mm.

This lady who's coming to stay...

- are you going to marry her?
- And the second principle being size.

That's an absolutely outrageous question,
Georgiana.

I really should chastise you for it.

You wouldn't dare.

You're right, I wouldn't.

(Bingley) Wickham, wherefore does
this horse not go backwards?

Nevertheless, my dearest,

will you indulge me
by remaining in here for the moment?

(Wickham) Bring it this way, sir.

Whip your horse...

Mrs Bennet, ladies, welcome.

- Er, did you have a?
- A most pleasant journey, Mr Darcy.

- Thank you.
- Good.

Splendid. My sister begs your pardon
but she is...

indisposed.

Mr Darcy.

With my particular gift for the inappropriate,
I am almost certainly bound to give offence

but you seem distressed, sir.

Wickham is here.

Be a good fellow
and get down from your horse.

I am endeavouring to dismount.

You're a fool if you think Darcy
will tolerate your presence here.

Bingley came to me in pursuit of oblivion
and he found it for a pleasant evening

and now he is delivered back to Pemberley,
undamaged.

- Darcy is in my debt.
- House rules.

Lydia - hands off.

Georgiana - hands off big time.

- What?
- This is good.

You have chosen precisely
the man I wished you to choose -

Swell-arando, master of Pemberley.

Brava.

I know why you want me to do this.

If you could somehow engineer it
that Darcy and I get married,

then what happens to Frosty Knickers?

I presume you refer to
the sublime Miss Bingley?

She gets scooped up by you.

You on your galloping bloody horse.

Caroline is rather rich.

You know, maybe she is the love of my life.

- (Bingley) Horsy, horsy...
- You are repulsive.

Yes, that's the tone.

Oh!

(Mr Collins) My Uncle Josaphat, of course,
was a legendary shot.

In Egypt, he once slew a brace of tigers
with a single blast.

Charles.

- Wickham. Do you shoot?
- No, sir.

I shall suffer Mr Darcy to let me help
pick up the multitude of birds

that shall come tumbling from the sky.

(Mrs Bennet) You must endeavour not
squeal when the muskets are discharged.

(Fluttering of wings)

- (Peacock cries)
- Oh!

(Men shouting, dogs barking)

Mr Bingley.

I am glad to see you, sir.

In a moment my husband will send for me,
I have not long to say what I must say.

We must accept what has occurred,
you and I.

We must not reproach ourselves
for unlived lives.

I married Mr Collins
and it may not be undone.

But you, Mr Bingley,
you must cast off this regret.

It is your moral duty to be happy, Charles.

Marry and be happy for us both.

- All's well, Mr Collins?
- Aha.

- Birds are that way.
- Oh, yes, yes.

No, I was...

Mr Collins has had the unusual
good fortune to shoot a peacock.

That is unusual.

One peacock is probably sufficient.

- Oh...
- Please do not point your gun at me.

Neither point it at Miss Price.

No, no, no, I'll just...

Oh, yes.

- Whither our host, I wonder?
- I neither know nor care.

- Charles, that is ungracious.
- He is a hypocrite.

Amanda...

It means "she who must be loved".

You must not...

- You must not.
- Wherefore must I not?

Who is to judge us?

I've laboured so long
in the service of propriety.

Elizabeth. I am not Elizabeth.

The entire world will hate me.

Were that true, Amanda,
I would fight the world.

You are the one I love.

Will you do something for me?

I am having a bit of
a strange post-modern moment, here.

Is that agreeable?

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Please, please, stay there.

If you touch me again I will be completely
unable to say what I want to say.

You love me.
Which one of me do you love?

The one you first met
when I was spiky and vulgar

and I argued with you all the time,

when you looked at me
and felt all that abysmal disregard?

Or the one I've been recently,
simpering and fanning and...

trying so hard to fit in?

Please tell me
you've noticed the difference.

I've found both incarnations
of your character equally disagreeable.

And yet I love you, Amanda Price.

With all my heart.

(Hunting horn sounds)

Ignore that, please.

I cannot.

When my duties are discharged,
I shall find you, Amanda,

for there is more to say,
if only the same words over and again.

I love him!

I love Fitzwilliam Darcy.

I love him.

Maybe that's what's meant to happen.

I'm like an understudy.
The star has failed to turn up

and I have to go on and do the show.

(Sobbing)

Oh! It is the grass, it makes my eyes water.

It's not the grass.

It's seeing Jane married to the wrong man.

Well, there's nothing to be done for it.

The world is full
of miserable, loveless marriages.

She will find a way to endure it.

Women do.

We are not condemned to endure our lives.

We can change them.

My life is about to change, Mrs Bennet.

I am in love

and the man I love is in love with me.

When I am married to him,
I will be able to protect Jane

and I will be able
to help you and Mr Bennet.

I will buy Longbourn for you.

Would that not improve things
between the two of you just a bit?

Miss Price, this is...
a quite extraordinary declaration.

These are extraordinary times.

(Gunshot)

Bingley! Lay down your gun, sir.

The breath of your shot was upon my face.

How long shall you prolong this pantomime
of heartbreak over Jane Collins?

Have you no notion how intensely tiresome
this maudlin drunkenness has become?

Let us say no more of this.

I wanted to appraise you of some news.

I regret you were obliged to witness this.
Your brother...

Lah! I'm not worried about him.

I'm worried about you.

I think your Miss Price leads you
a merry dance.

If I were you, I would seek
to know Miss Price a little better

before presuming to... know her better.

Hey, Lydia!

Life is pretty damn brilliant, don't you think?

Life at home is not...

rich in incident.

You won't always be at home.

The place from which you come
is different?

- Too right.
- Hammersmith.

Don't stress
about where you've been Lydia.

Think where you're going.

Just don't go anywhere near Wickham.

- Hello.
- Hello.

My brother has told me to stay in this room.

Good advice.

Why?

I would've thought...

because of...

what happened.

To you, with Wickham.

What you have been told happened to me
is not what happened.

My nurse conceived a passion
for Mr Wickham.

She took me away with her to a place
where she could encounter him

as though by hazard.

For this enterprise, I was the mask.

But I had fallen in love with him.

Every instant that her back was turned,
I offered myself to him.

He called me his sweet child,
his adorable child,

but a child nevertheless

and he refused me.

So I went to my brother
and I told him that George had ravished me.

Jeepers.

Probity, Elysium, Canaan and Tinkler.

Tinkler, Mr Collins?

My youngest brother, madam,
his baptismal name is Cymbal.

1 Corinthians 13, verse 1.

"I am become as sounding brass
or a tinkling cymbal."

Oh, of course!

How very er... ingenious were your parents
in the naming of their children.

Tinkler is four and twenty years of age.

He's quite... stout.

But Miss Lydia, I am sure, would have him
cavorting about the house like a faun.

- It's an excellent match.
- (Coughing)

(Footsteps)

- What happened?
- Mr Bingley and I have been chatting.

Miss Price, my life is a pretty drear thing

but it is conducted for the greater part
in public.

It is a rare moment
that I am not closely observed by servants.

If one wished to know the truth
about Fitzwilliam Darcy,

one need merely ask.

You're worried that I have a past
that you don't know about.

I am braced for the truth.

Pray tell it me.

OK.

What I should do,

what my mother would say I should do if
she were here and thank God she isn't,

is keep my mouth shut

but given that I've never been able
to do that,

and given that Caroline says
that I am the whore of Hammersmith...

But you would never listen to gossip,
would you? I love you for that.

And that's the thing.

I love you.

And I didn't know that.

I didn't know that.

But it is clear to me now
that I have always loved you.

Every time I've fallen for a man,
I've closed my eyes and it's been you.

Even Michael,
and I pretty much lived with him for a year.

So, yes, I have a past...

but every instant in it contains you.

Everything I am...

belongs to you.

I cannot marry you.

I am sorry for it but a man like me
cannot possibly marry a woman like you.

A woman like me?

You are not a maid.

I am sorry.

I've been incredibly stupid.

You told me the truth and I asked for it -
for that courage I shall admire you always.

But it has cost me everything.

It has cost that of us both.

Ahem.

You never knock.

What can I do for you, Miss Bingley?

If the answer's, "Sling your hook, so I can
get my paws on Darcy," you're in luck.

Look at me - I'm going.

I do look at you, Miss Price.

You people - if just one of you actually
said or did something you actually meant,

that had any kind of emotional integrity,
the rest of you would die of fright.

You're staring at me, Caroline.
It's a bit freaky.

Good grief.

Charles told me your secret.

It is my secret, too.

I shall get my paws on Darcy
and I shall marry him,

because it is correct.

And necessary and expected by everyone,
including God.

But the physical society of men
is something I have never sought.

I shall endure it with Darcy because
enduration is the speciality of our sex.

But the poetry of Sappho is the only music
that shall ever touch my heart...

though I have yet to play upon
the... instrument myself.

I wanted you to know this.

A little sisterly communion...

before you scuttle back to Hammersmith,
you tawdry little squeeze.

You don't get to marry Darcy.

Do I not?

Goodness! Jane Austen would be
fairly surprised to find she'd written that.

I've been talking to Georgiana.

- What a determined little girl.
- Don't tell Darcy. He'd throw her out.

Letting it circulate that you seduced
Georgiana to protect her?

I'm sorry, George, but...

that's honourable.

- I got you all wrong.
- It's more fun that way.

What's the matter, here?

Darcy said he loved me.

I said I loved him more

and then I found myself obliged to tell him
a little bit too much about myself.

And he has rewarded your candour
by casting you into outer darkness?

Oh, well.

Caroline Bingley's an ocean-going bore
and she has no arse.

Marriage to her would've been tiresome.

You know what I think, Miss Price?

I think you're a girl
who's a very long way from home.

Can you get me a carriage, please?
I want to go home.

Well.

- Now you know everything.
- What a jaundiced impertinence is this.

To write a roman à clef about gentle people
who have received you as their guest.

You have not even the grace or wit
to disguise our names.

It is a monstrous ingratitude
and a shameful betrayal of trust.

No wonder nothing about you
seems plausible.

Is your name Price or is it Austen?

Frankly, madam, I cease to care.

You don't get it.

How could you?
Even I don't get it any more.

- I'll walk, thanks.
- There's nowhere to walk to from here.

Then that's where I'll go.

Goodbye, Mr Darcy.

Everything you think is wrong, Darcy.

Everything!

Georgiana, Wickham - none of that
happened the way you think it did

and you'll never hear it from her
because she's scared to death of you.

And Bingley, your best friend,
he's become a drunk and that's your fault.

Yours! You're supposed to be
so bloody incandescent with integrity

and you misjudge everybody.

You misjudge me.

I love you. I love you.

I want to die.

I love you.