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[music playing]

I am standing on the shore of a green sea.

There's a buzzing in my head.

I can't focus, I'm wearing a white dress.

I feel I want to dive in and swim until I drown.

Then suddenly there are men wading towards me.

Their bodies are shiny and wet.

There are flashes of brightness deep in the water,

like darting fish.

Then suddenly I see they're reapers.

I stare at them as they get closer.

I want to get away, but I can't.

Suddenly I notice the bird.

It sits still as stone on it's eggs.

The reapers are getting closer, their bright blades

slicing along.

I can do nothing.

Was it a dream?

Sounds like a bad dream to me.

Which white dress?

Besides, you can't swim.

I suppose you could drown though.

Anybody can do that, even on dry land.

I thought perhaps the reaper was going to do something to you.

Sometimes I'm the bird.

You read too much, Anne.

You must rest your mind.

It get overheated.

I'm not Anne.

I'm Thea.

Particularly Andrew Marvell's poetry.

You see connections that just aren't there.

And you turn his words into predictions as

if he wrote them just for you.

Who are you dressing for?

Myself, of course.

No one interesting ever visits us.

Mr. Smithers, as we've discussed at some length,

has two Achilles heels, his vanity and his wife.

His vanity will look after itself.

His wife you will somehow have to interest in horticulture.

I wish you heartfelt luck in our little venture

and remain, yours et cetera, et cetera.

In busy companies of, men whose sacred plants if here below,

only among the plants will grow.

Society, it's orbit wooed to this delicious solitude.

Meneer Chrome, at your service.

You're not English.

No, I'm Dutch actually.

Dutch, oh, from Holland.

Yes.

What are you doing here.

I am gardens designer also.

I've come to see Mr. Thomas Smithers.

You'll find my father through their.

Yes we are making some little improvements,

Meneer Chrome, all in the latest fashion of course.

The influence of your Prince of Orange, sir.

Oh, you're a king, sir.

Well, we're all Orangemen now.

Can't blame an orange for all that.

It's only a fruit.

It's like blaming the apple for the fall of man.

Perhaps not, Galmoy, perhaps not.

I wonder sometimes if I ever get used to the unevenness

of this country.

We inherited Galmoy with the house, I'm afraid.

He's usually found in the walled garden, indeed the only garden.

Your site, Meneer Chrome, your domain, is quite untouched.

Chaos awaits you.

Chaos indeed.

It alarms me sometimes in the twilight,

it's such a wasteland.

The pillars are old.

Obviously a garden was planned here.

Planned and abandoned, wisely.

Well, Meneer Chrome, can you create order for us?

Why?

What's grown here ought to be grown here.

Cut it down and you'll let in more than you bargained for.

Do you want to make a garden?

Forgive me, but you seem a little on the young side.

Generally, Mr. Smithers, Monsieur Larousse and myself

undertake less modest commissions.

Modest?

There's nothing modest about my ambitions, young man.

And have no fear for the funds either.

I don't expect anything cheap.

The one thing I'm prepared to pay for, Meneer Chrome,

is expertise.

I select the experts in whatever field

and then I place my business in their hands.

I see it as the best possible benefit of acquiring money.

Ah, Julia, let me present, Meneer Chrome, my dear,

of Larousse and Chrome, internationally

acclaimed garden architects.

Purveyors of paradise.

I've been trying to persuade Meneer

Chrome to make your garden.

I am persuaded.

Ah, how very flattering, Meneer

Chrome, But I assure you, it's my husband's garden, not mine.

It's my present to you, my dear.

You must approve the designs.

Dear Thomas, you know I have absolutely

no interest in horticulture.

But I love toys, diversions, tricks with water fountains

that play tunes.

I've heard of one that can play Lillibullero.

Can you do that, Meneer Chrome? - Lillibullero?

Yes.

[singing]

Garden design has made some progress

since the Italian Renaissance and their water games.

What a shame.

Well, if am to approve the designs,

we shall just have to see what you come up with.

Ah, our daughter, Anne.

Thea.

We've changed our name.

What, again?

Thea, Flora, Vitannia, whatever.

I thought she was with Mrs. Galmoy.

It's bad luck isn't it, if you cut a bird?

Anne, come inside, this instant!

I had no idea that the design of gardens

had become such a fashionable calling.

King William himself thinks of little else.

And is Monsieur Larousse as young as you?

I thought when my husband took me

from London to Bristol, that it was the end of the world.

But this is beyond everything.

This country solitude.

You'll find, Meneer Chrome, that our daughter

is a little disturbed.

It's better that you're forewarned.

Sometimes it's worse than others,

but you can never quite be sure.

Too much imagination.

Do you like acting?

Acting?

Performance.

The theater.

I miss it terribly.

No.

My work satisfies all my needs for the arts.

I am set designer for every human drama, painter,

with every conceivable hue on my palate, orchestrator of sounds,

the water in the fountains, the effect of different foliage

on the breeze.

Tell me, are we to expect Monsieur Larousse

or do you do for both?

Thomas.

Well, I'm paying for both, dear.

I'm very much afraid to that Jean Baptiste Larousse is dead.

Dead?

JULIANA: Dead?

He sailed on a voyage to bring back exotic plants.

There's no news of his ship or of him.

The most terrible conclusion is forced upon us.

We must assume that the oceans have swallowed him up.

How dreadful.

Good lord.

Monsieur Larousse was a father to me, my mentor,

my tutor, a great genius.

He worked with Le Notre at Versailles

and on the new layout at Hampton Court.

He taught me the principles of [inaudible] pot

and the regularity of answering form,

the radiating gravel walks, and the point

from which, and only from which, all

the pattern makes sense, the.

House itself and for this purpose only so

that the garden reflects glory and prestige

and power upon its owner

and power upon its owner

Takes himself too seriously, that one.

Proud as a windbag.

Too many oranges.

Too little appetite all together.

Do you know what he's called?

Manure.

That's what they call him, manure.

[laughing]

This is Meneer Chrome, our daughter, Anne--

Thea.

Your servant.

Your mistress.

I am so very sorry to be late.

I know you have so little time.

Little time?

You are always in such a hurry.

I have all the time in the world, I promise you.

My vegetable love, oh, but you're a marvel, a marvel.

We have a poet, Meneer Chrome, Andrew Marvel.

Meneer Chrome doesn't know him, Anne.

He's dead.

He was poisoned.

They poisoned him.

You should take her.

That damn book!

Aren't you afraid?

Aren't you afraid it will happen to you?

People, Meneer Chrome, real people, ideas, objects,

all things animate and inanimate, the entire world,

is sipped through the wire mesh of these words,

crushed into the shape of the poem,

pressed between the paper and the book

until the juice runs out and there's nothing

but the dried leaves.

Now, tell me how, how do I have a relationship with that?

Good god, girl, what now?

It's so undignified, lying on your back

with your legs spread out.

Mrs. Galmoy, send to [inaudible] for the physician,

please.

Thomas.

First thing in the morning.

Thomas, dear, the physician really necessary?

We must trust in his expertise.

There was a time when you did not rely on other people

so much.

You've come to depend on experts too much.

You delegate.

You live by proxy in all things.

Great God, she could cut her hand off.

I'll not tolerate behavior like that anymore.

She's not a child.

She must be made to behave like a young lady.

I must go to her.

Sit down, Madam.

Mrs. Galmoy will see to her.

This garden, Chrome, it must be ready by the turn

of the century.

I can achieve the layout and perhaps

with extensive use of pots, and if you could

supply labor from the estate.

I have no son but I intend to leave something

behind with my name on it.

You have my wife as your inspiration.

It should be enough for any man.

What my husband means is that I'm barren.

I have been barren since the birth of Anne.

Madam, I hardly know what to say.

Say nothing, Meneer Chrome.

Say nothing.

Nature will not tolerate a vacuum.

Create emptiness and nature will do her utmost to fill it again.

So we drive the air out of the glass jar,

burning it away with the flame, and then

we apply it to the surface of the body

and draw out the evil humors thus.

[crying out]

Further instructions for you.

Shall I read them to you?

They're rather to the point.

Get on with it.

My dear Meneer.

You are too fastidious.

If the lady likes Italy, give her Italy.

And, dear sir, you've told me of your fondness

for amateur dramatics.

But do please keep your performance within the bounds

of credibility.

I am yours, Excellence.

Your master forced me into this.

His motives are his alone, but the designs of this garden

are mine.

And so is the performance.

Ah!

Get out and spy on someone else.

[WHISPERING] My dear, it's all over.

Now you must rest.

You lie still.

They say when the reapers cut the wold, they turn blue.

They're stained by the dye.

Can I turn blue all over?

Your day, Meneer Chrome.

My life in your hands.

Our guests are too eager.

Fitz!

It's you!

Dearest cous.

This is wonderful.

We hadn't expected you for weeks.

It was a sudden decision.

There was no time to write.

Well.

If Thomas had warning, he may have banned me from coming.

Oh, but it's a perfect timing.

Today's the unveiling of the garden plan.

I wouldn't have missed that for all the world.

Oh, and this is Meneer Chrome himself.

My cousin, James Fitzmorris.

Oh but of course, you know each other already.

He came here by your suggestion.

We have met in the flesh but once or is it twice.

But I'm of course familiar with Meneer Chrome's reputation.

You are too generous, sir.

WOMAN: Oh, yes.

I believe I must have heard of them, Monsieur

Larousse and Meneer Chrome.

But I'm told they worked for the Earl of Portland

and designed gardens for King William himself.

So clever of you to get them.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing more wonderful

that you could possibly be doing in the entire world

than making a garden.

Even my garden--

Tell me, Madame Clevely, how is

the glass business in Chelton.

Oh, it occupies one.

My rooms are full, which is a mercy

after my dear husband's death.

I shall be looking to you, sir, for my dye.

The woad grown here is quite, quite the strongest of blues.

I confess, Madam, I was scarcely aware

that my estate produced vegetable dye.

Juliana, your garden, Madam?

Meneer Chrome, please.

We face north.

So good for the paintings and the furniture

and the complexion, don't you think, Meneer Chrome?

They're not ruined by direct sunlight.

Don't interrupt

I was thinking of the advantage

of having the light behind us.

Since the principal viewpoint of the garden design

must correspond precisely to the center of the main reception

room inside the house, which is of course where the garden

is to be appreciated.

There will be a central walk of raked gravel

with steps rising to the gates.

Beneath us here two symmetrical rectangles with pyramidal

use at each center.

And beyond that, the parterre broderie itself,

with tall trellised towers and different colored

gravels, coal, lime, onyx, and with brick red.

[sound of sharpening wheel]

Four classical statues here will ring a spiral, clipped laurel.

And I propose to use an edge of yellow marble.

Here lemons, oranges, and dwarf bays

will line the path as it rises to the final apron

before the iron gates.

And the whole will be enclosed in a wall with Flemish curves

and permanent statues at intervals

to guard the garden from the surrounding farm.

You look a little pale, Thomas, are you making

a computation of the bill?

Any flowers?

This is an Ango-Dutch garden, Madame, with French influence

we have progressed from flowers.

A garden is a celebration of art, triumph over nature.

We shall be the fucking flowers.

We shall provide the color and the scent

as we walk among the gravel paths.

Now to the west, I propose a grotto here and a maze here.

A House of Didalis, a place to be lost in.

Well, Madame?

Well, you have been busy, Meneer Chrome.

I find it all a little serious.

Madam, the broderie of the parterre

is a precise copy of the brocade you were wearing

when I first set eyes on you.

What a memory you do have, Meneer Chrome.

Couldn't help noticing, Chrome, this area here.

Yes.

It's blank.

I mean it's blank.

Something you're going to surprise us with?

Have a few ideas I would like to explore.

I shall of course discuss them with you, sir, in due course.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon?

Well Thomas, this is all most exciting Juliana

is a very lucky girl.

And I particularly admire the broderie touch.

Although in the event I wondered if it might

not prove a little overdone.

And this, Meneer Chrome?

This is the signature of a Larousse

and Chrome garden the serpent's kiss.

The serpent's kiss?

The Ouroboros of legend, the serpent with its tail

in its mouth.

Meneer Chrome, is it you?

You seem so different.

You've torn yourself on the brambles.

Your blood looks like deadly nightshade berries.

They ripen and burst their poison down you.

Grows here near the gates and hemlock, all the poisons.

Sometimes I find things for Galmoy

I'm afraid he kills insects with them.

Belladonna turns you blue from inside out.

Unpleasant ending.

Come here.

This will give you Protestant wind up your parterre,

Manure Chrome.

Remove all unwanted garden pests.

Add this will concentrate of belladonna,

and even the white fly will turn blue.

This is my spring.

I've always been interested in plants and wild things.

See that crop growing there?

Woad, the warpaint of the ancient Britains.

They only use it to dye cloth now.

Isatis tinctoria, turns you blue from the outside in.

Have you ever been to the ocean?

I haven't.

Once my father took me to see the Seven Bore.

I was very young.

It's a wave of the sea that reaches deep in

to touch the belly of England.

And the big spring tides, [inaudible] tiny [inaudible]

swim like sperm.

I'd love to see the ocean.

All his life my father made land from the sea

and farmed it.

then there was the great storm.

Banks burst and the sea flooded in and drowned him,

left my family ruined.

Nature is my enemy, must be controlled.

Controlled?

I was hoping to see you today when I showed my plans.

That's my parents' garden.

This is my place.

I don't really mean my own.

It doesn't belong to me.

I just come here.

No one else does.

They don't see it the way I do.

There was a snake here before you came, in the roots

of the crab apple tree.

And a bird.

The sun shone through its wings.

You frightened them away.

Why were you so angry?

Were you in pain?

You've missed a bit.

Don't you see what this will mean, the garden?

Mean?

To all this.

It won't touch me here.

It means that tomorrow all this will be cut down.

Ah, Chrome, you've been surveying the site.

This is Forge Master Pritchard.

He looks after my foundry in Bristol.

Sir.

He's called here on business, or rather the lack of it.

It seems our ware are in poor demand at the moment.

So I've been trying to persuade him

that our foundries should undertake some

of your proposed metal works.

I don't know what your father would've

thought about all this, grottoes and gates and railings

and such.

Will you have the secretary make some copies of these?

Pritchard go and see Mrs. Galmoy in the kitchens.

Very good, sir.

And have her fetch you up some Perrier from the cellar.

So you see, Chrome, how your ideas have us all buzzing?

Will there be any cleaner work than making a garden?

Sir, I have misgivings.

Misgivings?

Yes, sir, it concerns your daughter.

- My daughter? - Thea.

Anne.

Anne is no concern of yours, sir.

No, sir.

But she seems so at home out there.

Have you ever spoken to her there?

What are you suggesting?

What would the consequences be to her if we cut it all down

and do away with it?

She seems at peace there.

Do you think all this has not been considered already?

We are informed by those who are experts

on the mind that the exact opposite is the case.

The fever is nourished by that chaotic place.

It breeds distortion.

An ordered, planned, patterned garden, governed by reason,

with the reassuring works of man in evidence all around,

a garden such as you have designed,

will reflect the same onto her mind and restore her calm.

You will kindly supervise the execution of your plan, sir.

There is a deadline.

Yes, sir.

But there is one thing I do beg you to consider.

What?

Perhaps it would be better if she was not here

when it happens.

Could she stay away with friends or relations

or perhaps you could take her to visit to the sea?

The sea?

Assure yourself, Meneer Chrome.

I have placed Anne in the best possible hands.

Well, Chrome, shall we make the desert bloom?

First, we must make the desert.

How was it that you found him, Fitz?

Lady luck.

I met him on two quite separate occasions.

The first time was in the Netherlands.

He was working with Larousse on King

William's garden at Het Loo.

The second was in [inaudible].

I happened to be staying with the Provins at Wield.

And Meneer Chrome was undertaking

the layout for them.

He interests you?

Not especially.

I shall leave for the foundry immediately, my dear.

We shall manage.

The burning bush, Pritchard.

The coal ship's late.

We'll run out of iron.

Then we'll melt down the cannons.

What's this?

That is hortus siccus, a collection of plants

dried and arranged in a book, thus by defeating the seasons,

they are preserved for study.

Not for pleasures, then?

Drain nature of all its juices.

Believe me, I do not find that so desirable.

Madam, you must excuse me.

Oh, Fitz, what are you doing?

I was trying to imagine how all this will turn out.

Oh, that.

How kind of you to take such an interest in Thomas's garden.

The setting for a jewel.

You were right to choose him.

I could never have afforded to give you all this.

Fitz.

Do you remember?

Cousins can do things that other people can't.

And we were more than children before anyone

knew what we were up to.

Even we didn't know.

What, us?

Not us, we knew.

I don't remember.

- Of course you remember. - I was so young.

It was just games.

You're good at playing.

You and I never took anything too seriously

until it was too late.

Do you remember this?

You gave it to me as a pledge.

Before they sent me away.

You told me to make my fortune and that when I came back,

we would be together forever.

You don't remember?

You didn't make your fortune.

No, no, still penniless.

Still singing for my supper.

But only at the best tables in Europe.

When I came back, you were married.

You had a family.

Is that really me?

Looks just like Anne.

And you've had it all these years?

I have.

I've thought of a very good game for us.

So long as it's not skittles.

No, not skittles.

Meneer Chrome.

If you could hold him, I [inaudible]..

[laughing]

Brought you something.

And I've looked you up.

Looked me up?

Yes.

What is it?

It is a wilderness.

Look.

I was wondering what it should be.

And as a matter of fact, wildernesses

are becoming very fashionable.

You see the serpentine path here, the forms on either side

are symmetrical.

And the tree planting will be grouped

to balance each other, exactly.

Do you really think you can make

up what you've done with that?

It's far too well behaved for me.

I've looked you up, Dutchman.

I've looked you up.

Holland.

That scarce deserve the name of land,

as [inaudible] the scouring of the British sand,

this indigested vomit of the sea, belts of sea--

Take her into the house.

Get rid of that cursed book.

You deserted me, Meneer Chrome.

I had something to attend to.

Well, you have an opportunity to make

amends and provide my cousin and I with some edifying diversion.

I really should--

Just a moment of your time, a test of your knowledge.

Will you comply with the rules?

Well, what is the test?

Scent.

Scent?

Flowers, herbs, that sort of thing.

Scent in a garden.

Scent is hard to manage in a garden.

It's too unreliable.

Cannot count on it.

Go on.

Be where you planned it to be.

It relies not only to the state of the plants,

but to the eddies in the air, to warmth,

to twilight, to the moon.

I shall not therefore incorporate scent

in the main design, always excluding

the presence of box of course.

The scent of clipped box in the summer

months, that is a sine qua non.

But in the maze, in the maze, I shall use scent.

It is both precise and elusive, it is personal but confusing.

Its colors never merge to gray.

It will add to the impression of being entirely lost.

Some scents predominate over others.

[clapping]

And the knot, serpent's kiss?

That depends on the serpent's breath.

First, you must be blindfolded.

Blindfolded?

If you want to win a prize.

What prize?

Kiss.

A kiss.

Rosa oficianalis pink.

Lavandula docias is an lavender pink.

Helichrysum splendid tomatis, yellow and gray.

Lilium regale.

It is pinkish white.

Hm

Hm, nepeta connata.

No wait.

Nepeta mussinii.

It is purple.

Very good.

Now one more.

If you get this right, you'll win the prize.

You seem a little confused.

Perhaps he's taking too much snuff.

I am confused because it is not your usual scent.

The scent you wore yesterday was lily of the valley.

This is attar of roses.

Yesterday you wore white.

Today you wore red.

But the handkerchief itself, is yours.

Clever boy.

Take the scents away, Mrs. Galmoy,

there's dead insects all over.

I claim my prize.

Plant tobacco, Latin name, Nicotiana tobacco,

a yellow taste perhaps?

We never said whose lips, Meneer Chrome.

Have you nothing better to do with your time, Chrome.

I have lost a coal ship, gone down in the channel

with men drowned.

And I come back to parlor games.

Oh, my dear sir, forgive me.

It was only in fun.

You never told me about the girl.

- What girl? - The daughter.

Why on Earth should I have told you about her?

What's she got to do with you?

She lives in a world of her own.

Not anymore.

I told you everything you needed

didn't have to perform the task that I've

engaged you to perform.

You're to make him a garden which he cannot afford.

Turn the screw.

Make him sweat.

Yes, introduce a little heat.

I think it's time we heard from Monsieur Larousse, don't you?

You write it.

You write it.

Time I think, for Anne to see the progress.

Whatever you say.

I have to go to Bristol, Thomas.

Oh, dear.

I shall be back as soon as possible, if you don't mind.

Mind? No.

I've become quite enthralled by your enterprise.

Could you lend me a carriage?

My dear James, have you nothing of your own?

Taste, my dear Thomas, taste.

The girl's out there.

It's too soon.

Thea.

Well, it's Mr. Chrome.

What is the matter?

Give it to me.

Now make the damn garden.

As for the living birds, he shall take it and the cedar

wood and the scarlet and the hyssop, and shall dip them in,

and the living bird in the blood of the bird

that was killed over the running water.

The body is a machine, in the brain its mainspring.

If it is wound too tightly, the spring will break.

To restore peace of mind, we must

deprive the nerves of stimuli.

The Greeks were the first to be aware that the value

of darkness on these occasions.

[crashing and breaking of glass]

The calm of rationality, the reassuring works of man,

the print of art.

The mind can find peace here in symmetry and repose.

As for the grotto, although it depicts nature rampant,

nature fecund, nature excited, because it is art imitating

nature and not nature itself, that is a predictability

and therefore, a place for it in the garden.

I commend your efforts, Meneer Chrome.

Is that my spring?

Yes.

Can it play Lillibullero, Mr. Chrome?

No?

But surely there will be some trick,

some diverting water work.

I have it.

Could it perhaps all of a sudden wet

our guests with jets from cherub's

pricks hiding in the foliage?

A letter, Chrome.

It's from Mr. Larousse.

He's alive.

The ship was becalms.

The rations were exhausted.

We starved.

We had lost the trade winds and were in the doldrums.

The memory of the weevil in the last ship's biscuits

was our salvation.

We had eaten the ship's dogs, cats, and rats

and were looking hard at each other.

But there was no meat on us.

And then, a slight breeze got up.

And in our hallucinations, we thought we saw an island.

But it was no mirage.

It was an island, a tropical paradise.

We were saved.

Eden before the fall.

The figs crushed themselves against your mouth.

Birds filled the air.

Coconuts pressed their white, cool, wet flesh

against your skin.

We tripped on melons and pineapples opened themselves

for us like flowers to the sun.

And some of our men died of surfeit,

their digestion couldn't cope with the luxury.

The island we later discovered was--

The Bermudas.

Bermuda, yes.

Through the watery maze and eternal spring.

Yes.

The oranges are golden lamps in a green night.

Yes.

Don't interrupt, Thea.

Go on, please.

And then we traveled and we saw such sites, opposites

of nature, swarms with black feathers, plants that eat meat,

trees that grow upside down, monsters of the sea.

And all the time, I worked filling the holes

with my botanical collection until we were a floating

ark of the world's vegetation, loaded

to the gunnels with my seed.

Are there anymore [inaudible],, Mrs. Galmoy?

More?

You thought I was dead, drowned.

Dead and born again 100 times and altered, changed, utterly.

If you had experienced what I have experienced.

I cannot with anymore.

It is too affecting.

How did he find our address?

He followed the garden's reputation, growing reputation.

It is talked about everywhere.

Will Monsieur like it when he sees it?

He will like it very, very much indeed.

But the garden?

The garden.

Yes.

Yes, it is a Larousse garden.

I have tried to do it as he would have wished,

as he taught me.

But I feel he senses that it lacks something.

It lacks something?

What?

There's something missing.

Missing?

Yes.

The bills lack nothing, nothing from the bills.

If you want immortality, he says, heat.

heat.

Heat.

So he says.

What's he talking about?

I sense a coldness.

Coldness?

At the center.

Tropical heat.

Plants grow vast in a tenth of the time.

This garden will rival the Chelsea Physique.

You must build a greenhouse for Thomas Smithers,

a greenhouse, a hothouse, hotbeds for my seed.

A greenhouse?

Walls of glass, boilers, pipes of hot water under raised beds.

I'll follow you into the kitchen, Mrs. Galmoy,

and pick at the scraps, if I may.

Oh, God.

Glass is so inordinately expensive.

You could do it, Thomas.

Exotic plants grown here would be such fun, exciting,

don't you think?

Different.

People would come.

You could build the boilers and the pipes in your foundry,

couldn't you?

You have the coal.

Till then, they'll sleep in darkness in my warehouse here.

The idea of tropical fruit in Gloucestershire,

don't you think it will provide the uniqueness that a really

great garden needs?

Everyone will want to come visit the greenhouse,

feel the warmth, experience the exotic,

touch the new textures and surfaces,

the unfamiliar shapes and smells.

Will I need a place, sir?

Oh, Fitz.

Have I missed something?

Monsieur Larousse has returned.

He survived unimaginable horrors and now he's in Bristol

with his collection of exotic plants, which we are

to house here in a hot house.

Well, that's certainly rich.

Your very own tropics.

Can you afford all these, Thomas?

Isn't glass inordinately expensive?

You want it, my dear, you shall have it.

That cousin of hers, he behaves the owns the place.

Thea.

You're not who you say you are.

You can't tell me.

From now on, be very careful what you eat and drink.

Are you alone?

Please, please close the door.

Please stay absolutely still.

What are you doing?

I am checking for drafts.

If you move around, your dress and petticoat set up

disturbing eddies in the air.

There are no leaks. That is good.

It is essential that we control this space very precisely.

When the seeds are brought from their dark dormant state

in the warehouse in Bristol, and sown in this light

and heat and humidity, there will be

an awakening, a resurrection.

The far side of the world will be growing here,

the dark side of the world.

Dark side of the world?

There will be stripes on the foliage, spots, swelling seed

heads with horns, branches with tentacles,

flowers with the claws of crabs.

There will be flowers of brown and green and black.

Black?

The Larousse collection specializes in dark plants,

often black, primula, auricula, canna indica, tulipifera

nigra, anemone atrocaerulea.

I would be unacceptable then in a Larousse collection.

Oh, I think you would be rare enough, exotic enough.

But my skin is white.

Completely white?

Completely.

No blemishes, no stains?

But inside, deep inside, there is a darkness.

I feel there is.

I can't be sure.

It would need an expert touch to discover and confirm it.

Perhaps if Monsieur Larousse was here,

he would be able to verify.

But in the absence of Monsieur Larousse.

I'm not worthy.

And I might not always find it convenient to wait

for the arrival of Monsieur Larousse.

May I move now?

Ah, my dear James, admiring the latest handywork?

Something of the sort.

All ready to receive the seed.

Well, I think this justifies a celebration, don't you?

I've arranged a little something, a fete champetre,

with music by a composer on a small scale of course.

We're not yet finished.

But, I think there's enough here now to satisfy the curious,

don't you?

What?

Music, some popular music.

Have you seen my wife?

She came this way a little earlier.

I saw Meneer Chrome in the hothouse with somebody,

but it could not possibly have been Juliana.

They were in the most intimate embrace.

Good Lord.

Oh, indeed.

Their clothes discarded around them,

like the petals of some exotic flower,

their bodies entwined together like the single stamen.

Who could it possibly be?

She'd walked discreetly away.

[background chatter]

[background chatter]

I've been looking for you.

I blame myself for not making absolutely clear before.

The lady is forbidden fruit.

You were handle her for the sake of our plan.

I don't want to find teeth marks.

Next year of course, we shall be

celebrating the new century, and the full completion

of your garden.

I can see it all.

It's a triumph.

What's that smell?

I beg your pardon?

There's a faint stench coming from somewhere.

Oh, It's the woad, must be ready for harvest.

I hope it won't spoil the concert.

Thea.

Keep it.

I couldn't possibly.

A keepsake of last night.

But nothing happened.

Don't be so impatient.

Chrome.

I know about this.

She's my patient, sir.

In the Orient, there are gardens like these.

They make patterns.

I don't interfere with your garden.

Leave me to look after her mind.

But these are gardens of the mind.

How could she possibly know about the Orient

and gardens and philosophy?

Well, don't you see?

That's what's so extraordinary.

This activity is bad for her.

It's only meant to be water, a river, the Seven.

Don't you see how destructive this man is to your daughter.

Leave my daughter to the physician, Meneer Chrome.

I've told you before, Anne is no concern of yours.

Remove the rocks.

Break the gravel into straight lines.

You're sick. She's not.

Heal your damn self.

Thea.

They're dancing the woad.

Come back in.

I have to talk to you.

I want you to understand.

Please listen to me, Thea.

You're not listening.

Let us roll all our strength and all the sweetness

up into one ball.

and tear our pleasures with rough strife

through the iron gates of life.

Thus though we cannot make our sun stand still yet,

we shall make him run.

Thea, please!

Why don't you listen to me?

Because you're saying nothing.

Whisper your sweet nothings to my mother.

She will hear you.

I can't.

Goodbye, Mr. Chrome, whoever you are.

I wish they'd come inside.

Your husband is cursing God.

Fortunately, God can't hear his blasphemies

above the noise of the wind.

Poor Meneer Chrome.

This is not natural.

It started with a spell.

I saw.

She pursed her lips and blew all this is most unnatural.

She's a witch.

[crashing]

Why me?

Oh, poor Thomas.

The power of nature.

And fought with Jesus gave them leave.

And the unclean spirits went out and entered into the swine.

And the herd ran violently down a steep place into the sea.

I warned you.

You cut it all down.

You let in the wind.

It's the woadman's wind.

What do you mean, the woadman's wind?

Well, you have no reason to keep me here now.

Why?

Has Smithers paid up yet for his garden?

Paid?

No.

Fine.

We can't go on now.

Of course, we can go on to the bitter end.

I want no more part of it.

For one who so enjoys outdoor activity,

you are surprisingly unconcerned for your freedom.

Do you remember?

I know who you are.

More important, who you are not.

You'll stay while I still have a use for you.

Don't worry, Meneer Chrome, the time

will come when I will find your presence here

quite unnecessary.

Ah, Julianna.

Come.

We're going to look at the greenhouse.

Will you come with us, Mr. Fitzmorris?

[scream]

I've been thinking, Thomas.

There is a way you can have your garden

and it will be an even greater victory than before.

People will talk about it forever,

especially those who may conceivably be gloating now.

But it requires you to do something of huge effrontery.

You must take up God's gauntlet.

You must divert the wind.

You must make a hill, a hill to the north

who will shelter the garden.

And not just a hill, consider the pyramids.

Consider the great Earth mounds of the Iron Age.

Consider Akbar's tomb.

It must be conceived as a monument.

It should be built around a central chamber

and surmounted by a temple, so that the whole would become

the final resting place to the moving spirit

of the garden, your shrine.

What a riposte that would be, how that

would set down this wagging.

Think about it.

I'm going to make a hill.

A hill, Thomas?

Good gracious.

A hill?

To divert the wind.

And not just a hill, consider Akbar's tomb.

What a riposte that would be.

Akbar's tomb?

How?

What?

How will you make a hill?

With what?

Ah, we'll mound up Earth from the fields.

The woad fields?

Any fucking fields.

There's absolutely no reason to suppose a hill will reduce

the wind in the slightest.

In fact, in all probability it will make it worse.

It will create turbulence and cannot agree to a hill, sir.

Cannot agree, sir.

I am the designer.

And what of Larousse?

I happen to know that Larousse is a great one for hills.

In fact, I recall I first met him standing

on the Earl of Portland's Parnassus

and together we admired its construction.

Under the circumstances, I think you would be ill advised

to object, Meneer Chrome.

I could provide the design myself,

seeing that the Dutch in general,

have little experience of hills in particular.

Your folly is coming along nicely, Thomas.

Hm, hm.

A fitting resting place for our patron's immortal soul.

I wonder if I might have a word with you, sir, in private.

If you must, you must.

He works so hard, and with his own hands.

He's too exhausted for company.

He takes his meals alone.

Perhaps I should take him a cooling drink.

- I'll come with you. - No.

You are too busy with your design.

I'm going alone.

I have published papers on the question of diet.

Diet is most helpful in these cases.

At St. Kenelm's, we could have strict control over her intake.

You see, sir, there is more to this than delusion

and hallucination or even depression.

There is, I am forced to believe,

the question of possession.

Possession.

By evil spirits.

And diet will help?

Undoubtedly.

If you want your daughter back, you must surrender her

entirely to me as my patient.

All I wanted her to do was to learn to behave less oddly.

And so she will.

She will return to you from St. Kenelm's a lady.

I shall have to speak with my wife.

And I will have the necessary papers drawn up.

Why, my dear, a fountain that can make the green night?

That really is much, much cleverer than Lillibullero.

Please don't.

I wish--

What?

What do you wish?

I wish I was--

Would you like a drink, my dear?

I brought it for Meneer Chrome, but it

appears that he's wet enough.

Thank you, Mama, but no.

The0 physician is pleased with her progress.

And what would this physician know about progress?

Here, let me dry you.

No one's looking.

Let me dry your hair.

Woad has turned you green.

I saw them washing the vats out in the reservoir.

I've been looking for a chance to talk to you.

There's something I wanted to say.

I too.

This cannot go on.

Go on?

This?

There is no substance to it.

It is all a sham, all of it.

All of it?

And what is my cousin got to do with all this?

Your cousin?

Yes.

Seems he has some influence over you.

Madam, I hardly know your cousin.

I think I hardly know you, Meneer Chrome.

And I thought I would.

What a shame.

Oh, well.

I shall, after all, have to wait for Monsieur Larousse.

And then passion flower, lady slipper, valerian, ah,

Mandrake root.

Madam, I write to you, the reluctant muse of this garden.

To crave your forgiveness.

A present, Mr. Fitzmorris?

You have restored the garden to its former glory.

You're about to receive full payment from a grateful client.

You'll pass all the money on to me.

I will extract your fee.

Then you will leave forever.

I thought it nice if we parted friends.

Hence the little gift.

Something to remember our successful partnership by.

Oh, believe me, I too relish the conclusion

of our partnership.

Well, soon you can go with my blessings.

I filled it for you with a special mixture

I procured in Bristol.

Try it.

go on.

I don't take snuff.

It was an affectation for the part.

I thought it might help.

[laughing]

When did this letter arrive, Mrs. Galmoy?

I don't know exactly, Madam.

It was left in the hall.

[inaudible]

[tapping sound]

Well, that squares us up, I think.

Cigar? Ah, no.

Of course, you prefer snuff.

Monsieur Larousse?

Monsieur Larousse?

I'm no bloody Frenchman.

It's Pritchard.

He's drunk.

It's war.

I bring you glad tidings of great joy, Master Tom.

War.

My god, what are you building out there now?

Huh?

Moving mountains?

What war?

What war?

What does it matter to us so long as there's

a requirement for cavalry.

Pritchard, why are you drunk?

It's that claret war.

Or the war of the claret succession

or the acquisition of claret.

Since when did the Smither's Foundry

ever concern itself with the causes of the fight?

Now that is a request for cannon.

The royal command, signed for the King by Churchill.

I shall have to go to the foundry.

Thomas, Thomas.

What's this?

The papers for your daughter.

I can't possibly deal with that now.

I'll sign them on my return.

Thomas, will you be visiting the warehouse

when you're there?

The Larousse collection, this seed for the greenhouse.

Greenhouse?

Oh, Thomas, humor me, please.

Look, here's the address.

My dear, seeds are the very last thing on my mind.

Remember, pay the secretary from your share.

Of course.

I'm sending him with you as far as the coast

to keep an eye on you.

You can leave any time now as long as it's

before Smither's return.

And go without a word to a soul.

Never be heard of or seen again.

Remember.

Like a thief in the night.

What are you doing here?

Beg pardon, sir.

Isn't this yours, sir?

It was in the library.

What a view there is from here.

I can't imagine what Meneer Chrome was thinking

when he tried to object to it.

Come here.

What exactly is your hold over him, Fitz?

I?

It's you, cous, not me.

This isn't a game, is it?

It's all in deadly seriousness.

What precisely do you mean, cous?

I believe that you are behind everything.

Well, my secret is yours, just as your secret is mine.

We've always been good at keeping secrets, you and I.

What secret?

Do you think when this is completed,

it might prove an alternative trysting place

for you and Meneer Chrome.

I know you have a predilection for the greenhouse.

But do you not think your husband's

crowning folly might lend itself to adultery

in a rather special way?

Nothing happened in the greenhouse.

Really?

Well, it doesn't matter.

I would have no difficulty convincing Thomas that it did.

He's three quarters of the way there already, believe me.

Is it all well, Mr. Fitzmorris?

So shall we have a drink?

It is.

Indeed, you shall.

What is your preference, sir?

Hurry, Mr. Fritz.

Then you shall have Perri in barrels,

with your permission, dear cous.

I do hope you don't think that I'm taking over.

Mr. Larousse?

No workers.

No iron.

And no credit with which to purchase them.

Start the furnace.

Start the furnace?

I want fire!

Ah, I was better as a boy when my father taught me.

Are you leaving?

Yes.

Well, aren't you going to tell anyone?

Not even my mother?

Does she know you're wandering about loose in the passages?

Shh.

I won't tell if you don't.

It's time.

Perhaps we could withdraw together to the sweet fields.

What are you doing?

Dressing.

Who for?

Myself, of course.

No one interesting ever visits us.

What do you mean?

Meneer Chrome is leaving.

Perhaps the reaper is going to do something to me.

What did you say?

He's leaving, your Meneer Chrome.

The swollen belly of my pride.

My dear, what happened?

Go on.

Go on!

Thea.

All the time I've longed to tell you the truth.

I felt that you saw through me anyway.

I'm not Dutch.

My name isn't Chrome.

I became his secretary when he worked at Hampton Court.

But when he sailed with Larousse on the plant voyage,

he didn't need me.

I heard about the Probin's Garden

and I knew I could do it, but I had no name.

I never got the commission of my own rights,

but I had to do it after my father drowned.

I had to make the money for my family.

I knew I could give them the garden that they wanted.

And all was well until Fitzmorris

came and stayed there.

He'd met Chrome before in Holland, the real Chrome.

And from then on he used me.

But I didn't know what it would involve.

I didn't know about you.

And I'm so sorry.

And what about my mother?

She was part of his plans, not mine.

Poor her.

Thea.

Well, we have a garden.

I liked him too.

Too?

Chrome.

I'm afraid we were all part of his strategy.

I'm confused by one thing.

I thought your cousin James said he'd met Chrome in Holland

first.

Surely that would have been the real Chrome, in which

case, he must have known.

Yes, Thomas.

It is strange.

Where is the [inaudible]?

I need a drink.

I'll go back and tell them everything.

They won't believe me.

They'll believe whatever Fitzmorris more says.

But first, I want to take you to the sea.

You hate the sea.

It's you I love.

I've loved you since the first moment I saw you.

Thank you for the book.

No, Thea, Thea, no.

No!

Anne, where are you?

Stay away!

Ah!

Where's Anne?

She ran away.

We'll find her.

This sort of thing couldn't possibly happen at St.

Kenelm's.

Leave my house.

And take your ministering angels with you.

What about my patient?

Our daughter, sir.

We'll have to manage without you.

Go.

We'll all have to learn to do without.

We must start again.

I would like that to be possible.

Hey, wait.

Hold up, wait.

She can't come with us.

You ever wonder what happened to the real Meneer Chrome, hm?

[music playing]