Original subtitles

Mr. McAllister has written.

He's coming to my tea today.

McAllister is playing a complicated game.

I'd like to be there when Mrs. Astor finds out.

It's about to get more complicated than he knows.

- Why do you say that? - You'll find out.

By the way, he's bringing Mrs. Winterton with him.

- You mean Turner? - Yes.

Into our home? You'll allow that?

McAllister thinks some people will take a box at the Met,

even if they already have one at the Academy.

Wouldn't they be punished?

Isn't lending status to the new house a serious crime?

The point is, we need the old crowd,

and Joshua Winterton is a charter member.

If they take a box, any number may follow.

And you don't object to courting your former servant?

I can't afford to object, even if it sticks in my craw.

But can she be trusted?

She won't want anyone to know she was once a lady's maid.

I have the upper hand where that's concerned.

The flowers are ready for your inspection, madam.

Thank you.

Church, I should explain

that one of my guests today may surprise you.

But please don't show it.

Of course, ma'am.

What are they up to today?

I'm not sure, but there is quite a bustle of arrivals.

You mean of people?

Yes, people.

Well, with the Russells, one cannot be certain.

I wouldn't be surprised if they hired

Barnum & Bailey's Circus to perform in the hall.

It looks like it's mostly women,

so probably not the circus.

I'd like to see the guest list

before I reach any conclusions.

Agnes.

Don't you miss parties?

Are you planning something?

I'd like to invite the new rector for luncheon.

We have to listen to him drone on all Sunday morning.

Can the Lord really want more from us than that?

Although...

What?

Your newfound piety may be put to good use after all.

My faith is not new.

Yes, yes.

But Dashiell Montgomery has written to me.

- And? - I'm glad to say

he's taken a real interest in Marian,

and he wants me to promote his cause.

Have you spoken to Marian about it?

No.

He may be a bit older,

but he's a good match, and she ought to be grateful.

But she's stubborn.

She may dig in her heels.

We must manage her carefully.

I don't want to manage her at all.

We'll invite him to luncheon with your reverend.

He's not mine.

Let's hope he finishes the sermon

before it's time for the cheese.

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Howard.

Mrs. Joshua Winterton.

Are you all right?

I'm not sure, sir.

I thought I saw... - You did.

So that was Miss Turner?

I'll manage here.

Go back downstairs to the kitchens.

What's the hurry?

She's here! I just saw her upstairs!

Who is?

Adelheid, you're shaking.

Calm down.

No, I must tell you.

Miss Turner, the mistress's lady's maid, is here.

Upstairs. - Why?

Does she want her job back? - No!

She's here for Mrs. Russell's opera tea, as a guest!

What?

She came in and handed me her coat,

and Mr. Church announced her as Mrs. Winterton.

- I don't understand. - Neither do I.

Wake up. This is America.

You can be anything you want. I should know.

I see you've all heard the news.

Is it really true?

That Miss Turner is here? Yes.

Mrs. Russell warned me, but not of the specifics.

I'm as shocked as anyone, but we've all got a job to do.

Joshua Winterton is a very rich man.

He has a fortune in property.

How do you know?

I read the papers.

It's not for servants to discuss

the guests of their employers.

But Miss Turner is hardly just another guest.

Her name is now Mrs. Winterton,

and she is a friend of the mistress.

- But she's... - Listen to Mr. Church.

And there are some linens that need to be put away,

unless you're still wanted upstairs.

It might be best if she stayed down here.

Yes.

I'll talk to her now.

Thank you.

Mrs. Russell.

Excuse me. Mrs. Fish calls.

Well, then you better answer.

Mr. Russell, how kind of you to open your house.

It's for a good cause.

A cause that is disrupting New York society.

I don't know if that's good or not.

Any cause of my wife's is good.

I'd like to thank you all for coming.

For some of you, I know this took courage.

But for all of us, our passion for the arts

has been curtailed by the narrow limits

of the Academy of Music... Until now.

We need the Metropolitan.

Not only for ourselves, but so a great city like New York

can have the opera house it deserves.

And I thought you would be interested to hear...

We have decided to open our season on the 22nd of October.

But that's the same date as the Academy of Music.

I believe it is.

So the two opera houses are to go head to head?

That's it.

Head to head, and one will be the winner.

Now, I have invited Mr. Gilbert to join us today.

He can answer any questions about the task facing us.

I echo Mrs. Russell's welcome,

and I thought you might like to know

that she's accepted a place on the board

of the Metropolitan Opera.

And now, for those of you who have questions...

What is our program, how you can secure a box...

Come and find me.

Mrs. Winterton.

Of course. Yes, I do agree with you.

I'm sorry I'm late.

I stayed to help rearrange a classroom.

So you're moving furniture, now?

Has your meeting started yet?

As you can see, we're waiting for

Mrs. Astor and Mr. McAllister.

I've asked Miss Scott to take notes.

I'm glad you're here.

I want to ask you to the opening

of a new play by Oscar Wilde.

And there's a reception afterwards.

It's next Tuesday.

Will your employer allow you time for such frivolities?

Yes, and I'd love to. Thank you.

Maud Beaton will be there.

She wants to know you better.

Maud Beaton from Newport? Why?

Well, it might have something to do with Oscar.

You mean my Oscar, not the playwright?

Yes, yours.

Maud Beaton. What do we know about her?

Her mother was a Stuyvesant.

You should ask Mrs. Fish's husband.

His grandmother was a Stuyvesant.

Is there any money?

Really, Agnes.

Isn't it a little soon for that?

Well, we're all family here.

And I think we know Oscar's priorities.

I believe there's a great deal.

Well, then, she meets the requirements.

I should leave it to Oscar to decide.

Have you ever known me to do that?

Mrs. Astor.

Lina, how nice to see you.

Well, if you don't mind my saying...

- Mr. McAllister. - Mr. Russell.

- Well done. - Thank you.

I can't stay. I'm meeting Mrs. Astor.

Thank you for bringing Mrs. Winterton.

Are you sure it's wise to open

on the same night as the Academy?

Aren't you asking for trouble?

I'm asking for something.

I was hoping to go to both.

And now you'll have to choose.

I should leave. Goodbye, my dear.

Do you have a carriage waiting, sir?

No. It's so lovely.

I think I'll just walk.

Careful there. Carriage coming, madam.

Hey, watch it! Watch it!

Careful, sir!

I confess that Mrs. Russell

is even more of a fighter than I had realized.

You mean you thought she would not fight against you.

No. Not so bitterly, at any rate.

After all, didn't I make her what she is today?

Gratitude is not a natural instinct in that class.

Agnes.

Mr. Ward McAllister.

How kind you were to let me summon you.

Did you have to come far, Mr. McAllister?

Not very, no.

Good.

I want to talk about Mrs. Russell,

and how to handle her.

And you... well, you know her better than any of us.

Well, I've just heard some news that may be of interest.

Don't keep us in suspense.

I'm told she has persuaded Henry Abbey and the others

at the Metropolitan to open on the same night

as the Academy of Music.

- What? - Are you serious?

My.

How dare they try to steal the Academy's thunder.

Our date is sacred.

I suppose, in a way, this makes it a cleaner fight.

How?

Well, everyone will have to choose which side they're on.

Why was that necessary?

Thank heavens we are all united in this house.

There must be room for two opera houses

in a city like New York.

Nonsense. Now what can we do?

Give us orders.

In your letter, you said you had a task for me.

Yes.

Agnes, I would like you to write to the older members.

Say that you've heard a rumor that if any of them

are thinking of taking a box at the Metropolitan,

their box at the Academy will be removed.

- Goodness. - Seriously?

I can't do it, as that would make the threat official.

But you can.

Have got all that, Miss Scott?

Every word.

We'll begin the letters at once.

Won't we, Miss Scott?

- Of course. - Thank you.

I think I'll take my leave

before you start handing out weapons.

If only it were that simple.

Well, Mrs. Astor's really looking for a fight.

I heard her.

I wouldn't say Mrs. Russell has a chance.

I knew Mrs. Van Rhijn was right.

Things must be heating up

if Mrs. Astor's paying calls to get people on her side.

Miss Marian supports the Met.

- So do I. - And where will that get you?

It's what I think, that's all.

You only think that because Miss Adelheid Weber does.

The mistress has got Miss Scott

writing to all the Academy members,

to make sure they hold firm.

What?

She can't write letters to that sort of people.

Why not?

When a fight is big enough, everyone gets sucked in.

So Henderson is traveling today?

He is, and we have reserved a suite at the Brunswick.

And a carriage for tomorrow?

Yes.

Hope it doesn't make him think he has power over us.

He's not the first man I've dealt with

who has exaggerated ideas of his own importance.

I humor him to get him to reveal his price.

Suppose he hasn't got one?

He has.

He may tease us a little so we raise our offer,

but every man living has a price.

All right.

The first tier has all been claimed.

However, there are a few boxes...

Where's Mr. Russell?

At his office. He slipped away.

Is he enjoying the opera war?

Well, he'd like to know if you're going to take a box.

So would I.

You need more of the old crowd in your audience.

Recruit a few of them, and I'll see.

Now, where do the Wintertons stand?

She may be new, but her husband's money is not,

and her social standing is gathering pace.

They spent their wedding journey in England,

courting the aristocracy.

Thank you for having me today.

I wish we could sign you up.

I'm afraid we're very happy at the Academy.

At one time, I knew a woman who was really desperate

to get on their list, so I feel it would be most ungrateful

for me not to enjoy it.

Did your friend ever get their box at last?

No.

But like so many others who failed,

she now supports the Met.

I was just telling Mrs. Russell of all your friends

you made in Europe, not least the Duke of Buckingham.

Mr. Winterton has many friends in England,

the Duke of Buckingham among them.

He entertained us while we were there at his place in Devon.

How interesting.

And now he's coming to America.

Yes, we are to receive him in Newport.

Would you excuse me?

I want a word with Mrs. Wilson before she leaves.

But when I get back, can I please see your ballroom?

Of course.

Mrs. Fish.

Alice. I'll join you in the hall.

I heard you were able to fill that ballroom after all.

It was a special night,

as you'd have seen if you'd stayed.

Though you would have been there in a different capacity,

of course.

Well, I hope you'll think of joining our ranks.

Would you, if you were in my place?

I understood the earlier reference.

But you could have a box in both houses.

Why, when it will take the Met years

even to begin to compete?

It's a second-rate project,

and it will be second-rate for both our lifetimes.

Or are you threatening me with exposure?

I have no wish to make trouble.

Good.

Because if you make trouble for me, I will respond in kind.

- I don't understand. - If I were you,

I would discuss it with George before you decide

to stir things up. - George?

You mean Mr. Russell.

So he never told you about us?

Funny, I thought that was why I was sacked.

Because you were jealous. - Jealous of what?

You should ask your husband.

Mrs. Russell.

I'm ready for my tour.

I still can't believe it. I had to see her for myself.

So, Miss Turner is now a great lady in New York.

It makes you think.

If she can do it, anyone can.

I wonder how she managed it.

How do you think?

She saw what she wanted, and she went for it.

Peter, how do you know that?

She told me.

Have you kept up with her since she left here?

From time to time.

So Mr. Winterton was a marked man.

Why do you think she chose him?

I can answer that.

He's been in the newspaper a lot lately

as one of the greatest donors to the new Museum of Art.

He gave millions.

That's what she was looking for.

I wonder how she pulled it off.

She wrote,

praising his taste and his philanthropy,

his culture and his wisdom,

and she hoped that one day they might meet.

And that's all it took? One letter?

That's not quite all it took.

Miss Scott.

I may be away for a while, so I've written down some ideas

for you to work on while I'm gone.

Where are you off to?

Booker T. Washington is opening a dormitory

at the Tuskegee State Normal School,

and he's invited me to cover the event.

You know everyone.

Well, I met Mr. Washington

when he was here last year raising money.

Tell me about him.

Well, he's intelligent and driven,

and quite adept at getting large donations.

Alfred Haynes Porter funded this dormitory,

so our angle will be how white Brooklyn money

is building a colored institution at Tuskegee.

No one would ever know that.

Which is why we're doing the story.

Well, good for Mr. Washington.

I suppose now they can take students from anywhere,

with the new dormitory. - Well, that's the idea.

But I don't know why a colored student from New York

would go all the way to Alabama

just to learn how to be a farm laborer.

Well, I read that Mr. Washington also trains

the students in teaching.

I know they promise to be teachers for two years

when they finish, but after that's done,

it seems they only get offered the kind of jobs

white people want to give them.

Perhaps Mr. Washington sees

what he's doing as the first step.

Well, that's what I need to ask him.

I envy you.

I'd love to write a story like that.

Where will you stay?

With Mr. Washington and his wife.

He wants publicity for the school,

so he's excited for me to come there.

When were you last in the South?

Not for many years.

And when I lived there, I was a slave.

I see.

No, you don't. Because you can't.

But somehow, I have to put that behind me.

When Booker T. Washington calls, I must go.

Well, I hope you'll consider his point of view.

So you like the idea

of our highest ambition being to milk a cow?

I'll tell you what I do like...

When colored people open doors,

when they help others to earn a living.

I like independence and self-reliance.

And even if it's not perfect,

this Tuskegee school seems like a step in the right direction.

I'll tell Mr. Washington you said so.

I wish I could tell him myself.

You know it would be highly unusual

for us to travel together.

Because I'm a woman?

We must live in the real world.

But I became a journalist

to cover stories exactly like this.

I'll think about it.

- Is that a yes? - Not quite.

All right.

I should get back to work.

Why?

Do you have a cruel mistress who never allows you time off?

She's an absolute tyrant, take it from me.

Well, then kiss me again.

I command it.

As you wish, but this will only delay

the completion of the work.

Good.

Then you'll be around longer.

And when it is done, I'll find something else.

You alone are a full-time job, Mrs. Blane.

But one I'd gladly undertake.

How are your parents enjoying their first Newport summer?

Actually, they're in New York.

They left after Mr. McAllister's party.

You didn't tell me they were leaving.

She hadn't planned to.

But things changed, and she stayed on in the city

to give a tea party for the new opera house.

But they'll be back?

Mother will be.

She means to spend most of the summer here.

Then we must learn to be careful.

I saw the way she was looking at me.

I don't care what she thinks.

I don't care what anyone thinks.

I do.

I mean to have a lot of fun this summer,

and to pay no price for it.

My motto has always been to have my cake and eat it.

What about the servants?

Well, Trent has them under control.

But who keeps Trent under control?

Don't worry about that.

My butler and I have been together a long time.

I won't worry at all.

Because I'm mad about you,

and I want to shout it from the housetops.

Then you must learn to restrain yourself,

in the sure and certain knowledge

that I will reward you.

And now I should really go and check

what the workers are up to.

Yes, you should.

I have to pack anyway for my own trip to New York.

- You're abandoning me as well? - Not for long.

I have to settle some property of my late husband's.

Well, perhaps I should travel with you.

I'm due in New York next week.

Would that be wise?

Well, anyway, we should get together while we're there.

You know I'm always ready to get together with you.

Leave us.

Of course, madam.

Is something wrong?

You tell me.

I'm not in the mood for riddles.

I've had some bad news from Pittsburgh, and...

Well, I had some bad news, too.

What about?

It's to do with Turner.

The new Mrs. Winterton.

Did you persuade her to change sides?

No.

She has no intention of giving her support

to the Metropolitan.

She only came here to taunt me.

Taunt you? With what?

What happened between you and Turner?

What did she tell you?

Just answer the question.

Nothing happened.

Except...

Except what?

She came into my room one night.

At first, I thought it was you,

but the lamp revealed that I was wrong.

Was it just your room, or your bed?

My bed.

Was she clothed?

Answer me!

No.

But I would never betray you.

You already have.

Nothing happened.

As soon as I knew it wasn't you, I got out of bed.

Did she?

Not immediately.

So I ordered her to leave.

But you never told me.

Because there was nothing to tell.

It seems to me there was a great deal to tell.

She didn't matter to me in the least,

and there was no chance anything was going to happen.

But I knew you depended on her.

It didn't make sense to blow up the house

because of her stupid mistake.

So you allowed me to be waited on,

to have my hair arranged, my clothes chosen,

my bath run by a woman who'd been naked with my husband?

It's disgusting!

I'm sorry if it was a bad decision.

Decision? I call that betrayal!

Start at the beginning.

It's easily told.

I came to New York as a banker with some success.

I got married and Flora was born.

Then things started to go wrong.

My wife's father wanted her to get rid of me

before she inherited his fortunes.

He arranged that I should suffer

the indignities of a divorce.

And you let him?

They were stronger than I was.

Anyway, I gave my wife a large settlement

and retired to lick my wounds.

And what happened next?

I proved her father's instincts had been correct

when I lost everything soon after

in the Panic of '57.

And you never contacted them again?

My former wife was not keen to maintain a connection.

I can imagine.

I kept track of Flora's school,

of where they lived, and so on.

I...

I saw the marriage announcement in the "Times."

Was there no possible return to banking,

or business, at any rate?

I'd been declared bankrupt, so no.

I was a failure, and it was official.

I had no money, no home.

For a time, I was almost on the streets.

But the one job I understood was a valet's.

I'd had my own valet.

I knew what the work consisted of,

so I found a place and learned the rest.

Flora said she saw you in the street.

I kept an eye on her for years.

I shouldn't have revealed myself.

She called me over, but I should have resisted.

I was not aware that you knew the Russells.

Why would you be?

I ought to have kept silent.

But you didn't, Mr. Collyer.

And there we have it.

I am a banker, my wife is a hostess,

and her father is a valet.

It seems to me that we are in a pretty kettle of fish.

Can I remind you that Henderson,

the man who works at my steel mill, is coming to luncheon?

Have you warned Church?

Yes.

We're rolling out the red carpet for him.

Isn't he your enemy?

If he is, I'll be ready for him.

But I need your help with him.

And you did promise me. - That was before.

Bertha, my business doesn't stop when we fall out.

You're being jejune.

You know nothing happened.

Am I really to be held responsible

for Turner's actions?

You're responsible for your own inaction.

What is it?

Yes?

I can come back later.

No. Say it now or never.

Larry and I have been invited to a play by Mr. Oscar Wilde.

There's to be a reception afterwards.

- Who has invited you? - Aurora Fane.

Though I'll be escorted by John Adams.

May I go?

If you wish.

So I can go? Just like that?

Yes. Is there anything else?

I suppose not.

Thank you.

I'll be down in a few minutes.

What's the matter?

Your mother's very tired.

If it interests you,

I do know that I...

made a mistake.

A misjudgment. An error.

But I do not know what else I can say on the subject.

Mr. Church, may I ask your advice?

Of course.

It's about Mr. McNeil.

- Your son-in-law. - Exactly.

He has made me an offer.

How was the luncheon? Was he rude?

No. He was very polite.

You surprise me.

If his tone was friendly, his offer is not.

What did it consist of?

Well, to start with, a generous pension.

I believe he's a rich man.

He's certainly a successful one.

He wants me to move to the West Coast,

to San Francisco.

San Francisco is a long way away.

I would consider it,

but I am also to swear I will make no effort

to see my daughter or her children

for the rest of my life.

Goodness me.

McNeil will inform me of their news.

I'm not to answer his letters

or seek to correspond with Flora.

But you would be taken care of?

An apartment will be purchased.

A bank account will be opened.

I'll have a manservant and a cook.

So yes, I will be taken care of.

I suppose that's not unreasonable,

given their position in New York.

No, it's not exactly unreasonable.

Could even be called generous.

But it is heartless... all the same.

Mr. Henderson, I believe. Will you come this way?

Mr. Henderson.

Hello, Mr. Russell.

Mr. Henderson. Thank you for coming.

Yeah.

My dear, may I present Mr. Henderson,

who has traveled all the way from Pittsburgh to see me.

Happy to know you, ma'am.

I want to welcome you to the house.

It's good of you to come.

It's good of Mr. Russell to ask me.

I've never visited a house like this before,

and I don't suppose I ever will again.

Then I hope you enjoy yourself.

Was your hotel comfortable?

I've never been so comfortable before.

Our luncheon is ready, so let us go in and eat it.

I might be going away for a few days.

Where are you going?

Tuskegee, Alabama.

Mr. Fortune and I are doing a story on a school down there.

I've already asked Mrs. Van Rhijn's permission.

You said might be. So it's not definite?

Mr. Fortune hasn't officially decided,

but I've made a good case for myself.

I don't believe he'll refuse.

Who else is going?

Well, he didn't mention anyone.

Well, you can't go all the way to Alabama

alone with a man.

I've told you.

It is a professional trip, and Mr. Fortune is my employer.

He's also a man, and a married one.

Be careful. That's all.

Have you always lived in Pittsburgh?

No. I was born in New Jersey,

but I moved there for the work.

But my wife's from Pittsburgh.

How long have you been married?

23 years.

We have six children to show for it.

Six! Heavens.

We have all we can handle with two.

No, Susie works as well.

She's a dressmaker.

I admire her.

Well, we have to make ends meet.

Why not take Mr. Henderson through to the library?

You can speak more freely there.

It's true.

And the worst thing is that Marian has shown up

Frances's other teachers.

In her opinion, they are wrong.

Only Miss Brook can do right.

Frances is an adorable child.

But I must ask her to be more tolerant.

I wish you success, as she may insist

you take all her lessons, and not just watercolors.

You paint in watercolors?

She does. And very well.

- Thank you. - How pleasing.

The showy oil paintings of the masters

normally get all the attention,

but watercolors have a champion in me.

Me too. I just love them.

Really, Ada? I'd never heard you say that.

Which watercolorist do you especially favor?

I know you mean to catch me out,

but it happens that I admire

the German painter Adolph Menzel.

A marvelous fellow.

He works in such a range of styles.

Aren't they mounting a Menzel exhibition here?

What is this?

Soup.

Soup? At luncheon?

Wasn't it George IV who decreed

that no gentleman drinks soup in the middle of the day?

This is New England clam chowder.

I thought it would be a surprise.

And so it is. How did it get on my table?

I conspired with Mrs. Bauer.

And why was that, Aunt Ada?

The Reverend mentioned that he was in search

of an authentic bowl of chowder here in New York.

I believe I did.

So I set our cook to the task.

We went through quite a few receipts.

I hope you agree with her choice.

It smells delicious.

Well, if we discuss the soup any longer,

it won't be fit to drink.

Quite right, Mrs. Van Rhijn.

I'm looking forward to the evening with Oscar Wilde.

I've read nothing about the play.

But we know him a little from one of our visits to England.

He's such an entertaining man.

And Miss Beaton will be in the party.

I'm glad. I like her.

And I think she likes you.

But you must promise me not to break her heart.

You have a very poor opinion of me.

Are there more New England treats waiting in the wings?

No. Just the soup.

- How kind of you, Aunt Ada. - I agree.

And it is kindness that does the most good in the world.

Well said, Reverend.

- More wine, ma'am? - Definitely.

Where shall we start?

Why not begin with the simple facts?

Your average steel man works 12 hours a day,

six days a week, and all for a pittance.

When the bell sounds their release,

they're too broken for anything more than a mouthful of food

and sleep.

It's an existence. It's not a life.

You know I cannot pay my workers

more than the normal rate.

- Why not? - It would upset the markets,

which would not benefit anyone.

I dare say, in time, wages will rise.

But you must let these things evolve.

And working conditions?

Must they evolve too,

while men are maimed and killed through bad practice?

Life is a dangerous business, Mr. Henderson.

I'm a patron of the Brooklyn Bridge,

and more than 20 men have died in its construction.

Would you rather it had not been built,

and New York was forever a divided city?

- No. - No.

We cannot make the world a padded cell,

even for the comfort of your workers.

Things are changing, Mr. Russell.

Unions are stronger, now.

They will grow stronger still,

and you will have to deal with them.

I am a man of business.

And I have jobs to offer in my mills,

in my factories, and on my railroads.

And I pay the going rate.

If your men don't want to work for me,

then I suggest they step aside

and make way for the many who do.

Is that all you have to say?

Did I come to New York to hear that?

Not quite.

What if I offered you a job in management?

Is there any chance that you might take it?

Why would I?

To see your children healthy,

well fed, and in the best schools.

To let your wife give up her sewing, if she so wishes.

To be a figure in the community, valued and admired.

So it would be to my own advantage?

Indeed it would.

And how would that help the workforce?

I see how it is.

You are Saint Michael with a flaming sword,

and I am just a greedy robber baron.

You used the phrase.

Not I.

You're very good, you know.

They were right to send you as their spokesman.

All we're asking is for you to do

the right thing, Mr. Russell.

I pay you the compliment of being sure

that you know what the right thing would be.

I hope you believe me.

I believe in your sincerity, Mr. Henderson, I do.

But do you believe workers can win against capital?

Of which I blush to say I have a great deal.

Now I understand why you brought me here.

But you're wrong, Mr. Russell.

You have miscalculated.

The future is on our side.

And now I should go.

Well, I've never been west of the Mississippi.

I'd like to see the Pacific Ocean.

I read that the California winter is like our fall,

except the leaves don't change their color.

I think I'd miss that.

You'll go to San Francisco, then?

I'm still undecided.

It's a strange thing,

to be forced out of your child's life twice.

Of course, when I first left, she was just a little girl.

It wasn't her fault.

So you think she had a hand in this proposition, then?

Well, I can't imagine that he would

banish her own father to the other side of the country

without consulting her.

I suppose.

Maybe it was her idea.

He just served as the executioner.

I don't have children,

so I can't speak to how it must feel.

But you are still, and will always be, her father.

No one can change that.

Maybe.

But they are certainly trying to erase any reminder of it.

How did it go, Mr. Church?

Well, I'm not used to serving horny-handed sons of toil,

but it seemed to go fairly well.

Did the mistress turn up in the end?

Yes.

Cool as a cucumber.

Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

What's the argument about?

I don't know, but she hasn't forgiven him.

Not yet. - She will.

Has the union man gone?

Yes, and good riddance.

All unions do is make everything

worse than it was before.

I'm not sure that's quite the whole picture, Mr. Church.

What if they started a servants' union?

Would you join it?

I'd rather be struck dead by lightning.

I take it that's a no.

Thank you for today.

He hasn't backed down.

I can only hope I've given him something to think about.

Good.

Are you going up to dress?

No. I'll have a tray in my room.

Will the children dine with me,

or have you made other plans?

This is our quarrel, not theirs.

But they're both going to the theater tonight,

so you'll eat on your own.

How long will it be like this?

I don't know, George.

Betrayal is not like a case of influenza.

No, it feels more like a death sentence.

Won't you allow me to make things up to you?

Open in the name of the Emperor!

Brothers, be masked, all of you!

Have you not noticed the proclamation, fellows?

Nay, sir.

Let me see who you are.

Take off those players' masks.

Stand back, I say, General Kotemkin!

His Imperial Highness, the Tsarevich!

Is this the most boring play in the world,

or just in New York?

You'd better think of something to praise

when we meet the playwright later.

That's rather testing.

I wonder why he thinks he can write.

He does know how to talk.

I met him at a dinner when he was here last year,

and I was in stitches.

He may be witty, but clearly

he hasn't learned how to harness it.

I'm not sure that's the compliment we're looking for.

Shh!

Well, good night, Your Highness.

Good night.

Good night, General!

Saved! And by you!

Brothers, do you trust me now?

Shall I fetch you a drink of something?

We've got time. - No.

Let's just stay here.

Are you going on to the party later?

Well, Aurora has asked me, so I suppose so.

Unless I take you back to your house.

No one would know.

Or is that a wicked suggestion?

That's certainly a tempting one.

I don't think too much of this play.

Do you?

What on Earth are we going to say to Mr. Wilde?

Would you mind terribly if I didn't come?

To the party, I mean.

We don't have to stay for the second act...

If you'd rather not.

But is everything all right?

Frances had a difficult day.

Well, she seemed fine in class.

Yes, but as you know,

the school is putting on a mother-daughter tea.

And as her mother is...

I understand.

My own mother died when I was very young.

I fool myself that we're doing so well, Frances and I.

And then all of a sudden, life... catches us out.

I'm sorry to burden you.

May I propose something?

Of course.

I'm hardly a substitute,

but I'd be glad to accompany Frances to the tea,

if it would help.

It would help a great deal.

And Frances would be delighted.

Thank you.

Now I am twice in your debt.

What do you mean?

The tennis wager.

I haven't forgotten.

Where is young Mr. Russell? Has he gone?

He's taken Mrs. Blane home. She had a headache.

How convenient. And what fun.

No, no. It's nothing like that.

Mr. Oscar Wilde.

How very kind you are, Mrs. Fane,

to let me throw off the chains of the theater

so that I may step into society,

as if I were not damaged goods.

Nonsense, Mr. Wilde.

You honor us with your presence.

We are delighted to celebrate you.

And how I love being celebrated.

Now let me introduce you to some of our guests.

This is Miss Maud Beaton.

Pleasure.

And your namesake, my cousin, Oscar van Rhijn.

We Oscars must stick together.

How do you find America?

Well, I can manage almost everything

but the food and the wallpaper.

Were you pleased with how the play went?

An audience is seldom pleasing.

It's a bonus if they don't disappoint.

But what's your verdict?

It was interesting.

Interesting...

Is a weasel word, and generally used

to avoid giving a real opinion.

I liked Marie Prescott.

Yes.

She's... She's glamorous enough

to take our minds off the text.

But I don't think it'll run.

Well, you will run, Mr. Wilde.

As long and as far as you care to.

And you are?

John Adams. How do you do?

And this is our new friend, Miss Gladys Russell.

I hope you enjoyed the play, Miss Russell.

Is "enjoy" the right word when a tsar is murdered,

and the evening ends with the heroine stabbing herself?

So young, and already a critic.

So you've met the charming Miss Beaton?

I suppose it was only a matter of time.

I like her very much.

Are you here with Gladys Russell?

As a friend.

What if she wants more from you?

She'll be disappointed, as I'm already spoken for.

Have he and I met?

No.

But I'll introduce you soon.

Are you happy with him?

Oscar, I'm happy with me.

That's as much as I need or hope for.

I rather envy you.

Who is Miss Russell?

One of your famous heiresses, I suppose?

How clever you are, Mr. Wilde.

Yes, one of the greatest of her year.

Well, it seems we're in a room full of young heiresses.

Which is your cousin sounding out?

I shouldn't admit it, but of course you're right.

He has his eye on Miss Beaton now.

And the young man with him?

John Adams. He's an old friend of Oscar's.

Is he, indeed?

Yes, I can see that getting rather complicated.

I don't know what you mean.

Nor should you. You're far too well brought up.

Have you not heard of the opera battle

that's being waged at the moment?

No, indeed, I have.

Though it seems strange to me to wage

a war over that yellow brick brewery

on Broadway and 39th Street.

Is that fair?

No, you're quite right.

If it were actually a brewery,

someone might hope to get some pleasure from it.

We're proud of our opera, Mr. Wilde.

It has been my experience

that you are proud of many things

that would not translate to the old world.

But is the old world better?

Not better, exactly. Just more tested by time.

You're back so soon.

I thought you were in Newport all summer.

I went with Mr. Church and Mr. Watson,

the master's valet.

But we all came back much sooner

than Mr. Church expected.

What's the Newport house like?

Gracious and grand.

They called it a cottage.

It's not like a cottage to me.

I like the town, though. We'll go back soon.

We're only here for the mistress's tea party.

How'd it go?

Do you know about Miss Turner, the lady's maid?

She turned up at the party as a guest.

- What? - It's true.

She's married a rich old property man,

and now she's the talk of the town.

What does Mrs. Russell say to that?

There's not much she can say,

but I don't think she likes it.

Not one bit.

Mrs. Van Rhijn wouldn't like it much

if Miss Armstrong left and came back as Mrs. Rockefeller.

Anyway.

I'd better get back.

Hurry now. Don't let that fall.

I have some contributions for the rummage sale.

In there? Thank you so much.

- I understand. - Not one bit.

Miss Brook!

Is everything all right?

Mr. Dawson had a low opinion

of how we give out communion.

What part of it was he criticizing?

The part where I offer communion

to those he deems undeserving.

What you must have to put up with.

Let's just say some of God's children can be very tiresome.

Are you allowed to say that?

Can't I, to you?

Of course you can.

We're friends.

Good.

I enjoyed luncheon.

And I was truly touched that you had

your cook prepare the chowder.

I'm happy if you enjoyed it.

I think everyone did, except possibly Mrs. Van Rhijn.

My sister.

Pleasing her can be little short of a miracle.

Well, I'm in the miracle business.

Do you remember when we talked about watercolors,

you mentioned Adolph Menzel?

I do.

I found the exhibition of his work that I mentioned.

It's at the Ross Gallery on West 42nd.

I thought maybe we might go together.

I'll be there on Saturday at 4:00,

in case you can join me.

Because I believe I could make the story better...

Better for your paper, better for your readers.

That's all I have to say.

I won't bother you anymore about it.

A train ticket?

We leave on Monday.

Pack light.

It's humid in Alabama.

I've been waiting for you to get back.

Why, particularly?

I need an excuse to leave the house

for a couple of hours on Saturday.

Are there any errands I could run?

None that I can think of.

Well, I might just go anyway, by myself.

If Agnes wonders where I am, you could say Bloomingdale's.

Well, this all sounds very cloak and dagger, Aunt Ada.

What's going on?

You mustn't say a word to Agnes,

or even Miss Scott.

But the Reverend Mr. Forte has invited me

to meet him at an art gallery on 42nd Street.

How intriguing.

Then again, there may be nothing to it.

Perhaps I shouldn't go.

Nonsense. Of course you must go.

I want to.

But Agnes will ask, and then I'll stumble all over myself.

Why don't I go with you?

Would you?

I won't stay.

I'll just accompany you to the gallery,

to throw Aunt Agnes off the scent.

And if she asks where we're going, let me speak.

You would do that for me?

Look who's scheming now, Aunt Ada.

Stop!

I didn't know you were coming home.

I need more of my summer clothes.

I suppose that means you'll be staying on 61st Street

through the end of the summer?

Maybe.

But I need the clothes to visit the new colored school

in Tuskegee, headed by Mr. Booker T. Washington.

Tuskegee in Alabama?

Is there another one?

W-Why do you have to go there?

Mr. Fortune gave me an assignment.

We're covering the opening of a new dormitory.

It's a real opportunity.

I understand that, but...

Then what's the matter?

The matter is that you have never been south

of the Mason and Dixon line.

We're staying with Mr. Washington and his wife.

They have a big house, and some of the teachers

from the school live there too.

It'll be all right. - It's dangerous.

Mother.

We came to New York for a different kind of life...

A life that colored people can't have down there.

Does your father know where you're going?

No, ma'am. It all just happened.

But you don't seem to understand

that once you cross that line, you are no longer human.

Now, you must promise me to always stay with your group.

Never go out alone.

I can promise that.

Do not make eye contact with any white folks.

And don't speak to them.

Even the slightest gesture or look can be misconstrued.

You're telling me to be subservient?

I'm telling you how to stay alive.

And if it were up to me, you would not be going at all.

Well, I have to go.

I need this.

I need to show the world

that there are young colored people

really making something of their lives.

It gives me a purpose.

And if I can put my whole self into my work,

then I won't have a spare second

to think about my poor boy!

My darling girl. I know.

I know. I know.

I am so sorry you are going through this.

But listen to me.

The South is no place to find refuge,

and I wish you would reconsider.

Apparently, this Duke is arriving in two weeks' time

aboard the RMS Servia, one of the Cunard ships.

You have contacts at Cunard.

A couple.

This is the Duke of Buckingham?

Yes.

Can you find out where he'll be staying when he gets here?

What reason would I give?

Can't you say it's business?

But it's not business, is it?

If word got back to him and I couldn't justify it,

how would that make me look?

What do we know about him, anyway?

We know he's a real duke,

and Turner means to use him to dazzle Newport.

What else do we need to know?

I still don't understand.

I want to put Turner's nose out of joint.

You have to trust me.

I do trust you.

More than you trust me, I think.

Then prove it.

There must be someone at Cunard who could help.

And if I succeed,

will I be forgiven for my failings?

Find the Duke, get me an introduction,

and then we'll talk.

Very well.

I'll do my best.

I told him he was wrong about us.

I told him we're united, and that we'll stand together,

no matter what. - Here, here.

But did he listen to you?

He thought I could be bought off.

But I think he knows now that won't happen.

So what's next?

All right, his first objective will be to divide us.

- He'll offer some of us money. - Exactly.

No doubt Mr. Clay will come up with more money

for the catchers and roughers, and more for the American-born

over the immigrants. - Yeah.

They'll do anything they can to split us into factions.

And they'll use that to destroy us.

No, they won't.

'Cause we won't let them succeed.

Does Mr. Russell know we're prepared to strike?

Is he ready for that? - He knows we could strike.

But he won't be gentle in his arguments,

I can promise you that.

Mr. Russell is not a weak man,

and there's no point pretending otherwise.

Then we should prepare.

And when the time comes, we must be ready to strike.

- Right. - Ready to fight.

Exactly.

And if it comes, we have to be ready to die.

- That's right. - Yeah.

That's right.

He's here.

I'll go for a walk outside while you enjoy the exhibition.

Miss Brook. How lovely to see you.

I'm sorry I'm late.

But you're not. You're right on time.

I just started to look at the pictures because

I wasn't certain you'd come.

I like this one, don't you?

It's so vibrant and busy.

Menzel is quite a solitary man, you know.

Very short, literally 4'6",

with a large head, which may have made him shy.

He certainly never married.

But we mustn't hold that against him.

You make me wish I'd known him.

He's still alive, but quite old now.

Maybe too old to make new friends.

Especially single ladies from Fifth Avenue.

His hero is Frederick the Great,

that military genius, which seems odd...

Really, but Frederick figures

in many of his pictures.

I so enjoy your knowledge,

if that doesn't sound too forward.

I take it as a great compliment.

What did your sister make of your agreeing to meet me here?

Well, you've met Agnes.

She always has an opinion at the ready.

I hope she has a good opinion of me.

Of course.

We're both so grateful you were appointed.

Really, we couldn't be more pleased.

I... I'm grateful too, Miss Brook.

For several reasons.

Look at this one. Isn't it lovely?

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