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Come on.

Man 2: Go on, son.

You little beauty, ah.

- Cheers. - Come on, Jack.

Down it. Down it, Jack.

Down it. Down it. Down it.

Down it. Down it. Down it.

Down...

Uh...

There you are.

Inspector Blake, I can explain...

Which part?

Drugging a dozen men?

Or stealing a priceless artefact?

It was eight men.

And I didn't steal anything.

I returned it to the British Museum,

for a fee, I admit. But as soon as I had done so,

I immediately informed Scotland Yard. So, no harm done.

You could have killed one, if not all of them.

A little laudanum never hurt anyone, Inspector Blake.

Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside.

Perhaps I should have forewarned you of my plan.

I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?

No, not remotely.

We need to be discrete.

We'd better close the door then.

We need to be careful.

You cannot simply kiss me in the of my hallway, Alexander.

You didn't seem to mind.

Oh, I just... I just want to stay in this bubble forever.

No one else knowing or interfering.

Things are perfect as they are.

Mostly, yes.

What do you mean, 'mostly'?

Eliza, I have offered you three cases in the past fortnight,

all of which you've turned down.

I've been extremely busy.

How does Clarence feel about you turning down work?

Well, he feels the pain every bit as much as I do.

Mm.

You didn't tell him, did you?

The truth is I... I worry what it would be like

working together now.

As do I.

But there's only one way to find out.

Yes, but I've never been in this situation before,

I don't want anything to ruin it.

Eliza?

Inspector Blake.

How nice to see you again. - Mrs. Potts.

I see more of you here than I do at work.

What do you want for dinner?

Anything's fine.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

You're usually fussy about what you have for dinner.

I should be getting back.

Yes. Thank you for coming, Inspector Blake,

I'll be sure to speak to the accounts department

about my invoice.

Be sure that you do, Miss Scarlet.

I'll see you out, Inspector Blake.

Mrs. Potts.

Inspector Blake.

I know that girl inside out,

and I've never seen her so happy.

And I have a sneaky inkling as to why.

Don't go asking me to share my inklings with you, Barnabus.

We both know what you're like with secrets.

Barnabus...

you've hardly touched your bacon.

Oh, I cannot deny I'm a little troubled, my dear.

Why? What's happened?

As you know...

I like to keep all the mortuaries

under my charge, spic and span.

However, recently,

chaos has begun to seep through the cracks.

Cracks caused, I'm sorry to say, by our Chief Coroner.

Mr. Wormsley.

He's become a shadow of his former self.

He now arrives at work late, he leaves early.

His administration has become woeful, indeed,

and on more than occasion I have noticed

a potent aroma of whiskey about him.

Oh, you must speak to him.

It's not fair to lay extra work at your door.

Well, there's a strict chain of command

one must respect, my beloved.

If everyone went around saying all that was on their minds

there would be... - Anarchy?

Precisely.

Then all I can offer is a kiss.

Might that sooth your furrowed brow?

Yes, yes, my jewel, yes.

That may alleviate some of my discomfort.

- Aw... - Alright. See you later.

Excuse me, I can't seem to find the Clerical Office.

Er, I think it's at the end of the corridor.

You think?

I've only been here once before.

It's my first day.

Really? Mine too.

End of the corridor, you say?

On the right. I think.

I'll give it a try, thank you.

Oh... good luck.

You too.

Pardon.

Well, when is Mr. Wormsley due in?

I don't know, he didn't say.

Very well. Please let him know that we are still waiting

on the postmortem from yesterday.

Yes, Sir.

Come.

Detective Willows reporting for duty, Sir.

Yes, I'm well aware who you are, Detective Willows. Please.

You, er, seem to have something on your lapel.

Oh, I do apologize, Sir.

A teething baby at home.

I didn't realize you were married.

It's complicated, Sir.

So, given this is your first day,

normally I'd give you time to find your feet.

But I'm afraid we're still a couple of men short.

I think you met Detective Fitzroy

when you came in for your interview?

- Yes, Sir. - Well, he's now left

to take the role of senior detective

in the Birmingham force.

And Detective Phelps is...

Is at the City of London Police, Sir.

Yeah, I have some mates there.

And what are they saying about him?

He's doing very well, Sir.

You can speak freely.

He's a bit of a character, is what I hear, Sir.

Indeed he is.

So, are you ready to get to work?

Yes, Sir, very much so.

And thank you again for giving me the job.

I won't let you down.

Glad to hear it.

Two dead bodies for our immediate attention.

One in a townhouse in Mayfair,

the other in a cold, drafty alleyway in Kilburn.

Well, if you wanna make a good impression on your first day,

I would take...

The drafty alleyway in Kilburn, Sir?

Mm. I believe you and I are going to get along just fine.

It's not that business has dried up completely,

but things have been rather quiet.

Particularly from Scotland Yard.

Oh, things will pick up, Clarence. They always do.

Well, yes, but we haven't had a single case

from Scotland Yard for some time now...

Well, it has been unseasonably cold,

which as you know, does have an effect on the crime levels.

Usually, in such lean times,

you'd be accusing Scotland Yard

of employing an alternative agency.

Usually, you'd be on your feet and out the door

to talk to the Inspector. Usually...

Can you please stop saying 'usually'?

This is about you and Inspector Blake, isn't it?

I have no idea what you mean.

Oh, I think you do.

You...

have offended him in some way

and he's refusing to employ you.

Your powers of deduction still need honing, Clarence.

I can assure you Inspector Blake and I are on the best of terms.

Professionally speaking.

Now, can you please drop that odd looking frown?

It's very disconcerting.

She hasn't said a word, Sir.

I'm Inspector Blake from Scotland Yard.

I believe it was you who found the body?

Can you tell me your name?

Take her back to the Yard.

Get her a cup of tea.

Yes, Sir.

Come on, love.

No evidence of a robbery.

No sign of a struggle.

Potassium Bromide.

The victim's well dressed,

there's no obvious signs of attack.

Doesn't look like a theft, she's still got her purse.

Yes, Sir.

Two bottles of Potassium Bromide.

Two dead women.

A coincidence, Sir?

Tell me about your lady?

Her name was Elizabeth Roper.

A passer-by said that she was having some sort of fit

before she died. Convulsions and such.

I've asked uniform to do house-to-house enquiries.

I also have a potential witness.

A young woman, she seems traumatized by

whatever she saw, hasn't said a word,

not even her name.

When I was at Bow Street,

if we had a female witness who was in shock

we used to ask one of the secretaries

to sit with her for a bit.

Do you have any ladies you could ask?

An urgent request from Scotland Yard.

That's welcome news indeed.

Shall I get you a cab?

Not yet, I'm... I'm thinking.

May I point out that you've been reading the same telegram

for almost ten minutes now?

What if another case comes in? Something...

something bigger, more lucrative?

I don't understand.

Well, it's a fairly simple concept.

I don't understand because that's literally

never bothered you before.

Am I missing something or...?

Fine.

Fine, I'll go.

Miss Scarlet.

Inspector Blake.

Where is she?

Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?

I know where they keep the whisky, if that helps?

There's no rush.

Take your time.

As I said, my name is Miss Scarlet,

but you can call me Eliza.

And you are?

My name's Sarah Mason.

She arrived at the house of the deceased, Miss Quail,

at twenty-five past eight this morning.

The door was ajar, and when no one answered,

she entered to find Miss Quail collapsed on the floor.

What was her reason for going to Miss Quail's home?

Well, Miss Mason is a secretary to a doctor in Harley Street.

To...

Isambard Cole.

He was treating the deceased for a form of neurosis.

He sent Miss Mason to check on her when she failed

to attend an appointment last evening.

That is most comprehensive.

Thank you, Miss Scarlet.

I believe she's now ready to make a full statement.

I'll send my invoice to the accounts department.

You're leaving?

You asked me to speak to your witness and I have.

I'm sure you can take it from here.

No...

persuasion or manipulation

to get me to hire you on the rest of the case?

Well, this is a new dawn, indeed.

And one I am ill-prepared for.

I'm trying to make the best of a difficult situation, Alexander.

Believe me, it's not easy turning down work.

Eliza...

I don't want people to know about us either.

Not yet, anyway.

But the fact is...

you are an excellent detective,

and I need your help.

Are you trying to charm me?

Yes. Is it working?

Come.

Detective Willows, this is Miss Scarlet.

I know who she is, Sir.

It's nice to meet you, Miss Scarlet.

- And you. - I saw you in court once,

you were giving evidence at the Jacobson trial.

You kept interrupting the judge and you got fined.

Twice.

Only twice?

You have some information on your poisoning?

I do, Sir.

The deceased, Mrs. Roper,

she was under the care of a doctor at Harley Street.

He specializes in treating melancholia.

Doctor Isambard Cole, by any chance?

The very same.

So, both women were prescribed

Potassium Bromide by the same doctor?

Yeah, it would seem that way.

We need to speak to this doctor and contact the pharmacy

that supplies him with the drugs.

There's also the postmortem of the two women

that need to be expedited.

Thank you, Miss Scarlet.

I'm quite aware of what the next steps should be.

Do what she said.

Yes, Sir.

Well, as you said, I can take it from here,

so, thank you again for coming in.

Unless you do want to help with the investigation?

I'm fine, thank you.

So...

we'll say that I'm here because...

I interviewed his secretary, and...

I've worked for Scotland Yard for many years.

Even before you arrived, in fact.

So, be sure to mention that.

Are you alright?

Yes, I'm fine.

It's just our first professional engagement since...

Well, you know, I just...

want everything to go smoothly.

As do I.

After you. - No, Alexander,

when we're working together,

it's best that you treat me

as you would one of your men.

You can be polite in our private time.

Perhaps you could write a list

of what I am meant to do and when?

Thank you.

Two of my patients found dead?

Mrs. Roper collapsed in the street

and Miss Quail was found home by your secretary.

By Miss Mason?

The poor creature suffers from a nervous disposition,

she will be most traumatized.

Well, yes. That's why I interviewed her.

Because as a woman, Inspector Blake thought it might help...

since... Miss Mason is also a woman.

A lady detective.

How curious.

Do you often work together?

I have a longstanding relationship...

working relationship with Scotland Yard,

not just Inspector Blake. So...

Well, that's why I'm here.

Both of the deceased were found with the same medication.

Potassium Bromide.

Was it you who prescribed that?

Uh, to control the melancholia from which they both suffered.

They were also undergoing a course of electro-therapy.

I use the updated adaptation of the Pulvermacher's technique.

Oh...

yes, I've read about this.

Patients are given electrical currents

that pass through the body to the brain. It's...

It's said to calm the mind of agitation.

I...I told you about this.

At your office.

At Scotland Yard.

Yes, Miss Scarlet.

Thank you for reminding me.

Particularly of the location of said conversation.

Elizabeth Roper was seen to have some kind of convulsion

before she died. Could...

this be linked to the treatment?

Mild convulsions only occur

whilst the electric current is being administered.

As for the Potassium Bromide,

it is possible, I suppose, but it...

would be an extreme and unusual side effect.

Could someone have tampered with the medication?

Unlikely.

I receive it sealed from the pharmaceutical supplier.

I then administer the dosage myself.

We will need a list of all other patients

prescribed with Potassium Bromide.

Yes, of course.

It may not be a factor,

but until we see the postmortem

we cannot be sure. - Yes.

You mentioned that your secretary, Miss Mason,

suffers from a nervous condition.

Is she also on this medication?

Yes, she is.

I'll add her to the list.

I'll speak to Miss Mason whilst you and your men

track down the other patients.

What?

You are so intent on keeping

our relationship secret

that you are in danger of broadcasting

the very thing you're trying to conceal.

Yes. Perhaps I am being a little overly cautious.

My nerves were a little frayed in there.

Really? I had no idea.

I'll go and visit Miss Mason.

Would you like a lift?

No, no, no, no.

The less we're seen together, the better.

Good day, Inspector Blake.

Easy...

Oh...

Hold the door, please.

Good day, Mr. Potts.

Ah, Detective Willows.

Unaccustomed to seeing you within these hallowed walls.

Transferred from Bow Street. It's my first day today.

Best of British to you.

Actually, I was just coming to see you.

We need the postmortems for the two women

brought in this morning.

Well, I'll send word as soon as the examinations are completed,

but I must warn you, we are running

very much behind today.

Hence why I'm here.

Have you perchance seen Mr. Wormsley?

Afraid not.

I can find hide nor hair of him.

If you do happen upon him,

please impress that he is needed

at the mortuary most precipitously.

And do use that word.

- I'll do my best, Mr. Potts. - Thank you.

Hello again.

Did you find it? The clerical office?

I did, you're a life saver. Thanks so much.

How's your first day?

So far so good.

Glad to hear it.

I didn't get your name.

Willows, Detective Willows.

George Willows.

It's a lot of names.

I'm just Isabel.

Well, Isabel Summers.

Nice to meet you, Detective George Willows.

Miss Mason?

Miss Mason?

Who are you?

Do you know that man?

I believe so.

I don't know his name,

but he's a patient of Doctor Cole's.

I remember seeing him a couple of weeks back.

He came to see Doctor Cole.

What did he want with me?

Well...

we can't be certain,

but there's a chance that the two women who died

had their medication poisoned.

Two women?

Another of Doctor Cole's patients has died,

as well as Miss Quail?

Yes. A Mrs. Elizabeth Roper.

And you think the medication may have killed them?

Well, we're still waiting on the postmortem report.

I think you should stop taking your tablets

until we know more.

May I ask why you're taking the medication?

Life has been a struggle for me.

I grew up in an orphanage.

And then the workhouse.

And when I came of age, I left to work in a laundry,

which is where Doctor Cole took pity on me.

He took me in.

First as a housemaid,

and then he trained me as his secretary.

He taught me to read and write.

A father couldn't have done more.

You're having electro-therapy?

It helps me tremendously.

Doctor Cole administers it.

He'll know the name of the man you found here.

Dr. Cole: Sounds like the man you describe is Zebediah Sawyer.

He's a long-standing patient of mine.

A poor creature plagued by demonic voices,

telling him to cause people harm.

When was the last time you saw him?

Last week.

He turned up at my door in an agitated state.

We'd started a course of electro-therapy

a few days earlier, and he was adamant it had made him worse.

I offered to help him, but he wouldn't listen,

he was in a blind rage.

Enough to wish harm on you?

An act of revenge perhaps?

Zebediah developed his condition in his early 20s.

But before that he was a functioning member of society.

He had several different jobs, including...

being a clerk at a pharmacy store.

Could he have the skill to tamper

with the medication you prescribed?

The bottles you found on the dead women, could I see them?

Both bottles are wrongly labelled.

According to Doctor Cole, one tablet of Potassium Bromide

is the standard daily dose.

These labels say five tablets, a potentially lethal amount.

Luckily these are the only bottles affected,

the other patients all had the correct dose.

So, this Zebediah Sawyer tampered with the labels?

Perhaps as revenge on the doctor who failed to cure him.

It seems so.

Any news on the postmortems?

Still waiting, Sir.

What on earth's going on at the City Mortuary?

I saw Mr. Potts earlier.

He was looking for Mr. Wormsley.

Grayson, get yourself down to the City Mortuary,

find out what's going on over there.

Yes, Sir.

Do we have an address for Zebediah Sawyer?

There are at least twelve known addresses.

The man moved around a lot.

It would save time if we took a few each.

No, you will remain here.

What? Why?

Miss Scarlet, the man we are hunting is extremely dangerous.

Then I will be careful.

As we all will.

I have many resources for such scenarios.

I will take some hired muscle with me.

Oh, you do bring me to the nicest places.

Travel broadens the mind, Clarence.

Only two more to go.

What's the next address?

Er, it's just a few doors down.

This Zebediah Sawyer clearly likes this neighborhood.

I'm curious, why did you bring me along with you?

I promised Inspector Blake that I wouldn't go alone.

Yes, but that's my point. You've lied to the Inspector

many times before.

Well, it's a habit that I wish to break.

Why, what's changed?

Nothing's changed. I just want to

tell Inspector Blake the truth, that's all.

'Premises moved to Belmont Street.'

What?

So, you told the Inspector

that I'm your hired muscle?

No, of course not.

Well, then that is hardly telling him the truth, is it?

Can we please just concentrate on the matter in hand?

You stay here, visit the public houses

and the streets around. See what you can find out.

Apparently the man's a heavy drinker.

I'll go to this Belmont Street boarding house,

see if there's been any sign of him.

Oi.

You're sending me

to the roughest pubs

this side of the city

to look for a heavy drinker

who hears demonic voices

telling him to kill people?

I'll meet you back at the office first thing.

If you don't show up, I'll send out a search party.

How does that sound?

Unsatisfactory.

Evening, love.

I'm looking for Mrs. Potts?

You've found her.

I've been sent to give you this.

We need to put out an appeal for information

on a man named Zebediah Sawyer.

This needs typing up and circulating.

Consider it done. And you are?

Good evening, Detective Willows.

Miss Summers.

How are you settling in?

Yeah, there's a lot to learn,

but I think I'm getting there.

She's doing very well indeed.

Was there anything else, Detective Willows?

No, that's all.

Thank you.

Sir?

Where've you been all day?

I had to go ahead and find an interim coroner in your stead.

Not now, Potts.

Yes, now, Mr. Wormsley,

if you please.

Sorry...

Sir... but I can hold my tongue no longer.

Things need to be said, before the good reputation

of this mortuary is forever tarnished.

Get out and stay out.

What the...

I...

Thank you for your time.

If there's any sighting at all of Mr. Sawyer,

then please contact the police immediately.

He's extremely dangerous.

I have a revolver and I'm not afraid to use it.

Well, I'd really rather you didn't.

Alexander.

Miss Scarlet?

Ah...

I made myself look an idiot.

You're overreacting.

Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me

to build my reputation, only to act like

some damsel in distress.

I even called you Alexander.

Detective Willows won't care.

He'll put it down to you being scared witless.

Which, by the way, is allowed,

since you are a mere mortal like the rest of us.

I'm tying myself in knots thinking

what I should say, what I should do,

how I would behave if I were a normal detective?

When exactly were you normal?

I'm more concerned that you put yourself at risk.

It was only luck that I was there,

Belmont Lodging House was my list.

You said you wouldn't go alone.

I wasn't alone.

Clarence was with me for most of the time.

Clarence was your hired muscle?

Years of carrying ledgers has not gone to waste.

He's stronger than he looks.

And now I feel guilty about lying to you.

You see, this is impossible, we cannot work together.

Eliza, you're overreacting.

One of the lads just came by

with a message for you, Inspector.

Thank you, Mrs. Potts.

Mm.

I have to go.

I've made a decision.

I will no longer work on the case.

Don't be ridiculous.

I want our...

courtship, romance, whatever you want to call it,

to have a fighting chance.

This is the best way.

Well...

for what it's worth, I think you're wrong.

No one knows about us, Eliza.

But you must do what's right for you.

Have I not been like a mother to that girl?

Have I not been the one to pick her up when she grazed her knee?

Or dried her eyes when Arabella Herbert

called her the cruelest of names?

Or defended her to her father

when she was expelled from college?

Again. Yet she tells me nothing. Nothing.

How was your day?

Hm? Oh.

I was dismissed.

Mr. Wormsley finally arrived at work

at five o'clock this evening.

Five o'clock!

Well, I could take no more, so I gave him a piece of my mind.

Oh, Barnabus, I am sorry.

He would not even allow me to collect my things.

Threw me out like a vagrant.

Ruined my hat.

And do you know what else he called me?

A vexatious buffoon.

Well, you wait and see what I call him

if I ever set eyes on that man.

Thirty years I have given to the City Mortuary.

And now, for the first time in my life, I'm...

I'm unemployed.

Oh...

Why don't you get out of these work clothes

and I'll make you a nice dinner?

Then we shall talk things through

over a glass of sherry by the fire.

- Yes. - Good evening.

Would that it were.

What's wrong with Barnabus?

He's been sacked.

Sacked?

That's what I said.

What's wrong with you?

Is there anything you'd like to tell me?

Like what?

Dinner will be in an hour.

Very well.

Good evening, Sir.

Detective Willows.

What have we got?

He was pulled out about an hour ago.

There's a gunshot wound to the head.

And do we know who he is?

I think this is our man, Sir.

He certainly fits the description.

Ah, Zebediah.

What did you do?

You can confirm that this is your patient Zebediah Sawyer?

It is.

Is it possible that he could have taken his own life?

The gunshot seems to have been at close range.

On more than one occasion he expressed suicidal thoughts.

That's why we started the course of electro-therapy,

but his drinking exacerbated his symptoms.

I tried to persuade him...

to stop.

But he had a chaotic mind.

It's late.

I'll come by in the morning to take a full statement.

Get some rest, Doctor.

I did everything I could to help him.

But over the years I have come to realize that...

that some people are beyond help.

It's not like you to forget your key, Clarence.

It's not like me to be suffering from alcohol poisoning.

As requested, I visited all the public houses

of the Seven Dials last night

in search of this Zebediah Sawyer.

In one particularly grotty establishment

called The Plague Pitt,

I ran into a spot of bother with some of the locals.

I honestly think I would have been safer

in an actual plague pit.

I had to buy five rounds of...

the roughest of whiskey

for the whole pub.

That is the only reason I am still alive.

Well...

thank you for your efforts,

but Scotland Yard are no longer in need of our services.

What? Why not?

Well...

because I've just received a telegram

from Inspector Blake.

A body was found on the riverbank last night

and identified as Zebediah Sawyer.

Really?

Clarence, will you please stop questioning me

every time I mention Scotland Yard

or Inspector Blake.

All I was going to say is that

according to my new friends at the Plague Pitt,

Mr. Sawyer is very much alive.

- What? - Yes.

He's awaiting sentencing in Manchester County Prison.

Barnabus.

I heard about your dismissal.

I'm sorry.

I've been instructed to come by to pick up

my personal effects.

Do you happen to know if Mr. Wormsley's in attendance?

Well, no-one appears to be here, the door was left open.

Mr. Wormsley's gone out and left the door on the latch.

Not for the first time.

I'm pleased that you're here, because I need your assistance.

I'd like to look at the photographs

of two recent postmortems,

the dead women brought in yesterday.

I'm afraid that as a former employee,

I am no longer permitted access to the premises.

Well, I won't tell if you don't.

That would be a severe breach of protocol.

I simply cannot. No.

Mm. No. Of course not.

Well, I am here on official police business,

so... perhaps if you assist me,

then I can grant you permission?

And you do need to collect your things, do you not?

Er...

Very well.

Miss Scarlet...

would you be so kind as to grant me permission

to enter the City Mortuary?

Permission granted, Mr. Potts.

Now then, I need your brain.

Thank you.

Doctor Cole?

Miss Mason...

Sarah...

Please put the gun down.

Whatever's happened, we can talk it through...

Talk to him.

Not me.

He's the liar.

He's the one that's lied again and again and again!

Put the weapon down, Miss Mason.

Sarah is my daughter.

Her mother...

was an inmate in an asylum where...

I was the residing physician.

She was so beautiful.

So fragile...

We fell in love.

I knew it was wrong...

which is why I left my position,

and I never saw her again.

I had no idea she was with child,

or that she died in childbirth.

I only found out years later through

some research I was carrying out at the Woolwich Workhouse.

There I found a file on Sarah.

By that time, she had left, but...

I was determined to find her.

I was working in a laundry.

It was a miserable existence.

One day...

Doctor Cole came to do a study on the health

of the girls that worked there.

He seemed to feel sorry for me in particular,

and took me in.

He never told me who he really was.

The man lying in the mortuary

isn't your patient, Zebediah Sawyer, is he?

Unlike the two women, he doesn't have the marks on his wrists

from the electro-therapy you said you'd given him.

His name is Franklin Sloane.

He was a private detective who helped me track Sarah down.

Two weeks ago, he showed up at my door, drunk.

He had gambling debts,

and tried to blackmail me.

I refused to pay him.

But when I found out he had visited Sarah,

I knew he would reveal to her who I really was.

Which is when you had the idea to blame him

for the deaths of the two women.

You gave him the identity of a past patient

you knew was locked up in Manchester prison.

So, if Sloane didn't poison them...

who did?

It was me.

I made a mistake.

Got confused by the different medicine dosages

and mixed up the information on the labels.

All of this...

it's my fault.

I am the one to blame, not Sarah.

The poor child had not long learned to read and write.

I pushed her...

too hard.

Gave her too much responsibility.

I was just so proud of her.

So, you blamed Sloan to protect your daughter.

And then you killed him.

Not before he told Miss Mason the truth.

This morning...

I woke up to find an envelope

had been slipped under my door in the night.

In it was a file...

where I learnt that...

Doctor Cole was my father.

I was so angry and confused.

In a rage...

she picked up my revolver.

She didn't mean to hurt me...

The same revolver used to put a bullet in Sloane's head.

So, what happens now?

Well, given the circumstances,

if Miss Mason puts in a guilty plea,

I'm fairly sure she will avoid a prison sentence.

Doctor Cole on the other hand...

Do you still have that whiskey in your office?

Are you suggesting being seen entering my office?

Together?

Very funny.

Goodnight, Detective Willows.

Miss Summers. Goodnight to you.

Was there anything else you wanted to say to me?

Or ask me?

No, I don't think so.

Shame.

Because I'm free this evening.

I'm afraid I'm not.

I have to pick up the baby from the minders.

Oh, I, I didn't realize...

She's not mine...

She's my sister's. She lives with me.

It's a long story.

Well... goodnight, Detective Willows.

But... I'm free tomorrow night?

I'm glad you changed your mind about working the case.

The outcome could have been very different.

You would have worked it out.

Probably, yes.

Eliza...

You don't need to say it.

You don't know what I was going to say.

You were going to say that me believing I can keep us

in some sort of bubble is not only childish, but unrealistic.

I was going to say...

as an ex-military man,

structure and control run through my veins.

But over the years I've learnt that

trying to control too much of your life is futile.

And when you stop trying to do so,

that's where the real freedom lies.

Oh, and there's one more thing...

Goodness. I don't know how much more wisdom I can take.

The burden of this situation might be eased

if you were to confide in someone.

Someone other than me.

Barnabus?

Barnabus?

Ah.

You're cooking dinner?

Indeed I am, my beloved.

Now, sit down, put your feet up,

and I'll go and fetch you a nice glass of sherry.

What's brought all of this on?

I've decided there's no point in moping about,

so, until I receive a full and satisfactory apology

from Mr. Wormsley,

I shall be in charge of household duties.

I'm rather looking forward to giving this kitchen

a spring clean.

Perhaps even a little rearranging.

Oh, so, the stew...

gently simmering.

So... before I add my dumplings,

just enough time to fetch that sherry bottle, my jewel.

- Ah. - Ah. Scusie me.

Nice to see him so contented again.

Mm-hmm.

Ivy, there's something that I need to tell you

about myself and Inspector Blake.

I'm listening.

Well, he's coming to dinner, so we need to set an extra place.

And?

And...

we are currently enjoying a quiet,

very private...

courtship.

Goodness me, I had no idea.

You're a terrible liar.

And you shouldn't have kept it from me.

And you shouldn't be listening at doors.

You and Inspector Blake.

That is music to my ears.

But please, keep it to yourself for now,

we're still working out our arrangement.

My lips are sealed.

Bottle o' sherry.

Barnabus, Inspector Blake is joining us for dinner.

Ah.

I invited him.

The more the merrier.

We can enjoy a nice long game of gin rummy after dinner.

The four of us, all evening,

putting the world to rights.

Oh, won't that be marvelous?

Marvelous.