Original subtitles

It's got enormous potential.

That means such a lot coming from you.

Do you have any suggestions?

Of course, that's what I'm here for.

You must read these books.

Take the rest of the year to re-write it.

Then we can discuss again in...February?

February may be a little late.

I've invited some rather significant publishers

to Montague for a reading next Friday.

Next Friday?!

I've called in all the favours I can,

Monty's pulled a few strings as well. Can't you postpone?

Everyone's already RSVP'd.

I thought, with a few pointers...

That's not enough time.

But seeing as it's you...

..perhaps the Sisters of Aeschylus could help.

Who?

They're called the Sisters of Aeschylus,

all exceptional writers moonlighting as literary advisers.

Eva Velasquez, Maxine Mortimer and Frances Whitfield.

Frances Whitfield?

I've read several of her books, quite ingenious mysteries.

I shall be reading my extract tonight, for constructive criticism.

It sounds just like a Parisian Salon!

Indeed.

A what? Why are they coming?

To help with my new novel. It's high time I was published.

Father Brown will agree,

he's always been so encouraging about my writing.

It's an admirable pastime.

Can you attend? Your thoughts are so valuable.

Of course.

And you two must both come too.

I'd love to. Do you mind if I bring Edgar?

Oh, no, the Chief Inspector's already coming.

He's so helpful when it comes to questions about police procedure.

Such a good egg.

I had no idea. We'll all be there.

Wonderful! You can say you were there right at the beginning!

I must go.

Oh, dear.

What's wrong?

Father Brown's read Lady Felicia's writing before.

Look at this place!

You can't blame me for bringing you here.

We're not concerned about the digs, darling.

We're concerned about staking our reputation on a debutante.

Miss Velasquez!

Lady Felicia! This is Frances Whitfield.

Ah, your reputation precedes you.

Is it true you worked with Agatha Christie?

I couldn't possibly say, we crime writers share a sacred bond.

And Maxine Mortimer.

How was your journey?

Nasty, brutish and long.

Well, so good of you to be here.

Ah, Hornby. Hornby will show you to your rooms.

Drinks in the drawing room in an hour.

Miss Mortimer, I hope that the Blue Room will rejuvenate you

after your journey.

I can't abide blue.

Oh.

It's a sizzling romance between a Russian aristocrat and a Bolshevik.

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Oh, welcome!

Miss Whitfield, Miss Velasquez and Miss Mortimer,

meet Chief Inspector Sullivan, Mrs Devine, Miss Palmer,

and Father Brown.

Miss Whitfield, I've read your work with great interest.

Always a pleasure to meet a fan.

And Monty's a huge fan of yours, Miss Mortimer.

He boasts about the time you signed his book.

And where is your husband?

Oh, he's at a diplomatic function in Scotland all week, poor chap.

Well, now we're all here, please take your seats.

Do you often advise Lady Felicia on police matters?

She occasionally pops into the station.

She pops in!

Would you mind? Oh, yes.

Well, as promised,

an extract from my new novel,

Moonstruck In Moscow.

A train journey from hell itself!

We're very lucky to have made it here alive.

Sherman, Miss Rush! What are you doing here?

I'm here for a reading of course.

Lady Felicia, I'm ch... Ah.

Charmed.

I'm afraid the reading for publishers isn't until Friday.

I was under the impression that it was tonight.

I'm sorry, Mr Quinn.

I'll deal with you later.

Tonight is strictly a private affair.

Well, you've asked me for a reading haven't you?

I'm here now, so let's hear it.

Once I've had a drink of course.

Of course, Sherman, everything happens on your time.

Oh, bitterness doesn't suit you, Miss Velasquez.

Come on!

Well, now we're sitting comfortably...

..I shall begin.

"Fedora looked out from the cold scullery.

"Outside, the snow was swirling like the swirling snow of a snow globe.

"Suddenly, she saw an enormous man approaching.

"His figure was as wide and tall as a well-built man of 6' 4"."

MR QUINN SPLUTTERS

"It was Aleksei.

"Fedora gazed at his sharply chiselled features,

"which were sharp like they'd been carved by a tool with a hard edge.

"A chisel, perhaps.

"But Aleksei was a Bolshevik and Fedora,

"a secretly flame-haired aristocratic beauty.

"What would become of her if she could not resist?

"Fedora pondered this thoughtfully in her mind.

"Meanwhile, although the night was cold,

"Fedora felt a great rising heat,

"and she wasn't standing near an oven."

Thank you.

Let's refresh our glasses and then take a moment to recover.

Well, that was interesting.

Yes, she's an excellent public speaker.

On that, we can all agree.

Shall we debrief in private, darling?

My dear, there's nothing to work with!

Say goodbye to your good name, ladies!

Who are you?

Maxine Mortimer, Sherman Quinn, of Quinn Books.

Maxine! My, you've changed.

I don't recognise you.

I think you should go and sleep it off.

Don't you concern yourself, Father.

I've been drunker than this in front of a bishop.

Come along, Sherman.

Soda water. Bishop, bishop, bishop!

Sorry, Father.

May I speak with you?

I thought you should know,

he's not going anywhere tonight.

Just as well Hornby found us rooms.

Where would Mr Quinn be without you?

Hornby, another whiskey!

Neat!

He's as drunk as a skunk with two tails.

Is it always like this, working for him?

I don't work for him.

I work despite him.

What do you do?

I'm a housekeeper.

Interesting, I thought you were a writer.

QUINN: Right, let's deliver the verdict.

This should be good.

This dreck will be laughed out

of every publishing house in Christendom.

In defence, some of the writing has...

It is dire!

I mean, are we really supposed to be fascinated to learn

that Moscow is cold?

It's mentioned, what, 13 times in as many pages?

If you present this to publishers,

you'll be blacklisted for life.

Well, that was rather unnecessary.

Even I knew it weren't great.

This is the opinion of one publisher.

And anything good Quinn Books ever published

was chosen by Mr Quinn Sr.

He's only been dead for two months

and the place is already going to the dogs.

Oh, no, please, please, please,

there'll be enough room for toadying at the memorial.

Can we please get back to the task in hand?

Constructive criticism.

Oh, yes, please.

Some of the description shows promise.

But the details of the setting need a lot of work.

You could look at the similes in particular.

I couldn't agree more, Ms Rush.

The characters obviously require attention.

Does anybody have anything positive to say?

There weren't any errors in police procedure.

Oh, that's something at least.

In the time we have... Which isn't much.

We can fix it.

Thank you.

We all agreed you were in fine voice.

To be quite frank, Father, I don't know what I would have done

without your solitary face of encouragement.

It was promising.

And I'm sure that the Sisters of Aeschylus can help.

Indeed.

Miss Velasquez has even offered to open proceedings

with a reading of her own.

And Laurel's asked me to come back tomorrow

for an introduction to creative writing.

Me. Well, then, you must.

Writing really does fire up one's soul.

I'm going to be working in the library all morning.

Tell everyone I'm not to be disturbed. Yes, m'lady.

I'll take breakfast and lunch at my desk, and snacks.

I have such a lot to do today!

Write from the heart.

Write from the soul.

Morning.

Aargh!

In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti.

Foam at the mouth suggests cyanide poisoning,

most likely from the whiskey.

£35 exactly, sir.

Curious.

Scraps of paper.

Yes. Goodfellow, would you mind?

Naturally, everything will come to light during

our police investigation, Father.

Naturally.

Like this, perhaps?

Yes, exactly like this.

One monogrammed signet ring.

Looks like our victim's very own.

Sergeant, we need to find out

who Mr Quinn was drinking with last night.

Well spotted, Father.

What a shame about your reading,

we were so looking forward to it.

Yes, it was the wise thing to do.

Such a shame.

And with more time, you can re-write as we discussed.

That's settled, then.

And I'd be happy to offer a publisher's perspective.

Anything I can do to work with the Sisters.

We are strictly a trio of writers,

we do not need any external assistance.

Oh.

It transpires that Monty told the diplomats that my novel

was an homage to Russian literature.

Why would he say that?

Because that's what I told him.

The Russian ambassador is on his way.

He's in the air.

Then...there isn't a second to waste.

Lady Felicia, you have a way of saying things

are like things that they already are.

Your similes are same-iles.

This is like having a photograph next to the real thing.

It adds nothing.

You see?

So I want you to describe these pictures to your partner,

but add something with every description.

You could say...

Erm...

The sea is as blue as the sky.

Ha.

Good. Or...

..the sea sparkles like a carpet of sapphires.

Oh! See the difference?

Try it.

The lights sparkle like jewels.

The palm trees are wafting...

..like leafy trees.

Be free.

More, more.

So, your first writing assignment.

I'd like you to write a poem.

Me? Why?

You know it's my job to spot talent, right?

No.

Well, it is.

I used to help Sherman's father find new writers, nurture their work.

What'll happen to your job now, then?

Who knows? But whatever happens,

I can still spot talent.

One poem, any form, due tomorrow.

Flowers bloom in an explosion of colour.

Waltzers spin like whirling dervishes.

Thank you. Very good.

Lady Felicia, the birds fly in the sky like, what?

Bats.

You're thinking! That's good.

Next, a new exercise.

Chief Inspector? How can we help you?

We'd like to speak with Miss Velasquez.

Yes?

You told us you didn't meet with Mr Quinn in the library.

But you were heard arguing with him. Surely that's not enough...

Do you smoke this brand of cigarettes? So?

Butts were found in the library.

We know the ashtray was cleared after dinner.

Which puts you at the scene at the time in question.

Eva Velasquez, I'm arresting you on suspicion

of the murder of Sherman Quinn.

Why did you lie?

I was so afraid.

Yes.

Hanging concentrates the mind wonderfully.

A frightening prospect.

Hanging doesn't frighten me.

It's quick.Why do you say that?

I've written things.

Against Trujillo.

It's not safe under the dictatorship.

If I'm sent back...

..it won't be quick.

You argued with Mr Quinn?

I wanted him to release me from my contract.And he wouldn't?

It was his father's contract, before he died.

When Sherman took over the company, he wouldn't publish me

or let me go.

There was a ring found in the library, on a chain,

engraved with the initials SQ.

Does that mean anything to you?

Frances' necklace.

Do you know why it was left in the library?

Frances was often at Quinn Books.

There were rumours.

I don't know who did this, Father,

but you have to believe it wasn't me.

I believe you.

I can't go back.No.

And I will do everything in my power to ensure that that does not happen.

Miss Whitfield?

Father.

May I ask...

..how well did you know Mr Quinn?

Sherman? We were good friends,

but I'm friends with lots of publishers.

There was a signet ring found in the library, on a gold chain,

which I believe you were wearing last night?

The chain was broken.

Sherman took it back rather forcefully.

Did he hurt you?

Only my feelings.

We were close once.

Ancient history.

And yet you still wore his ring?

It was all I had of him.

He didn't realise I'd kept it.

You must have been angry when he took the ring back so callously.

More sad than angry.

I couldn't hurt Sherman, if that's what you're inferring.

I still love him.

Loved him.

If you'll excuse me,

without Miss Velaquez, we've rather got our work cut out for us.

Quite.

Both Miss Whitfield and Miss Velaquez were alone with the victim.

So one of those two poisoned the whiskey?

If that's how the poison was administered.

Any one of the guests could have entered the library.

And there is the curious matter of the £35

found in Mr Quinn's jacket.

But that's what I paid Miss Mortimer.

Ah, Lady Felicia.

Now, we've decided I'll give the first reading

but the main thing is getting your extract up to scratch.

Miss Rush will be our guinea pig publisher, so to speak.

I just want to help in any way I can.

It's all hands on deck.

But be prepared, I run a tight ship.

You do? I do.

Come with me.

You've a strict timetable, with assigned activities

and constructive criticism with Miss Mortimer and I.

Oh, I must phone Mrs Willis about the buffet!

And there's something I need to attend to.

Excuse me, Miss Whitfield.

Well, this is a good start, isn't it?

Oh, no, this part's not for you.

You're going downstairs.

Downstairs?

That's right.

Surely you can't be serious?

"Fedora felt a great heat rising,

"and she wasn't standing near the oven."

Look around. Do you see an oven? No.

That's because a scullery is devoted to washing.

You need to get to grips with your setting.

Soak it all in.

Well, don't just stand there!

Many hands make light work!

No, no.

Fedora toils alone.

Miss Mortimer?

May I?

Lady Felicia paid you £35,

which was the exact sum found on Sherman Quinn's body.

What are you implying?

Well, Sherman Quinn said you'd changed since you last met.

And when Lady Felicia mentioned that Monty had met you,

you looked fearful.

So I'd like to know who you really are.

It would help Miss Velasquez.

Maxine and I were in love.

We lived together, we wrote together.

We were very much alike.

But she hated public attention

so I used to go to literary events in her name.

Over time, I became Maxine Mortimer.

In public at least.

So, this arrangement was mutually agreed?

When Maxine died,

she said I deserved to keep the name we'd built together.

That I must keep on publishing.

But you did not do so?

I daren't let anyone even read my work.

I'm not sure I could live up to her name.

The royalties were dwindling

but Sherman still demanded that I pay him everything.

He was blackmailing you.

I couldn't afford to pay him but I couldn't bear a scandal.

So you needed a way out.

I'm not responsible for his death, Father.

I would have died for Maxine

but I wouldn't kill for her.

Don't give away my position!

I wouldn't dream of it.

Miss Whitfield's schedule not to your liking?

It's draconian!

My hands are in tatters,

I cracked a casserole dish and I haven't written a word.

What was I thinking?

I wondered what brought this on.

Oh, I don't know.

You see, Monty and I have been getting on so well recently.

I'm glad to hear it.

It's wonderful.

But he's so terribly important,

you see, and I just felt that I ought to be too.

I can think of a few people to whom you are already terribly important.

I just wanted to be known for something,

out in the world.

Is that very foolish of me?

I think it's admirable that you are exploring your God-given gifts.

Thank you, Father.

You've read my writing, haven't you?

It's not that bad, is it?

Chief Inspector Sullivan?

Father.

Lady Felicia, your guests are free to go when they please.

Miss Velasquez has been charged with murder.

Surely not!

Cyanide has been identified in her photographic fixer.

What will happen to her?

If she's found guilty, she'll be deported.

That would place her in grave danger.

I do not believe that she is guilty.

Belief is more your area than mine, Father.

Based on the evidence, a charge had to be made.

Lady Felicia! I see that glass in your hand.

You're late for Miss Mortimer's lesson on character.

And bring the gentleman, the dapper one.

This is a novel about passion.

An aristocrat...

..and a Bolshevik.

I ought to be going. Nonsense.

Despite being diametrically opposed,

they are drawn to each other like magnets.

Aleksei, take her in your arms.

I don't think this is quite...

It is an exercise.

Explore it.

Aleksei.

I can't do this.

Stay with it, respond to her.

Fedora, let us feel your desire.

You wouldn't want me if you knew my secret.

Ah, don't get into plot, stay with the passion.

Sorry.

Aleksei.

That's it.

Aleksei, look into her eyes.

Stay with it.

Oh, Fedora.

Oh!

That really takes the biscuit!

Oh, no, thanks, I'm full.

There I am, arranging food for our wedding,

meanwhile Edgar and Lady Felicia are in there canoodling.

If you ask me, I don't think there's anything between them.

I shan't be made to feel like a hanger on with my own fiance!

Isabel? Edgar.

I...

..was just leaving.

What was that about?

No idea, sorry.

Have you got any ideas for poems?

Miss Mortimer tells me you've had a breakthrough?

Yes, after all my time in the scullery, I thought,

why not write from Fedora's perspective?

Excellent. The first person is so direct.

I agree.

It's a big change but you can write through the night.

An example, as promised, a few pages I wrote in the first person.

We'll hear the re-written story first thing,

last-minute edits before our guests arrive.

I've chosen a piece to read as an opener.

Will you excuse me, I need to make a phone call.

We'll see you tomorrow for the reading?

I wouldn't miss it for the world.

I spoke to Sister Boniface, at St Vincent's,

and she was extremely helpful.

What's that?

I found it in the fireplace next to Mr Quinn's body.

Before he died, he was reading.

Then he threw the papers on the fire.

This is a fragment.

Miss Palmer, is there any caustic soda under the sink?

I think so.

And glass of water, please.

Iron tablets,

from the medicine cupboard.

The caustic soda,

otherwise known as sodium hydroxide..

..when mixed with cyanide...

..turns Prussian blue.

The paper was poisoned.Mmm.

That writing.....

..it's Laurel's.

"I felt the familiar heat rising,

"but there was no more of an oven in my midriff

"than there was in the scullery."

You've made it worse.

Poppycock!

You could read something one of us has written.

No-one would have to know.

I'd never put my name to something I haven't produced,

I do have some pride.

What else can we do? They'll be here in a couple of hours.

Well, make it better, like you said we could.

There isn't time.

Our reputation's on the line as well, you know.

If you just read something of ours,

you can have all the praise and we can all save face!

I don't want praise for the sake of it!

If this is the best you can do, consider me officially unimpressed!

Miss Rush? Yes?

I am very grateful to you.

Miss Palmer is becoming an avid writer.

She's showing promise.

We need to ask you something.

The night Mr Quinn died, he said, "I'll deal with you later."

What did he mean by that?

Sherman had quite the temper.

You value your job at Quinn Books very highly, don't you?

If Mr Quinn dismissed you...?

You can't be suggesting that I...

Well, did you? No!

But you are right,

he did sack me.

From the library fireplace.

It's your handwriting, laced with cyanide, I believe.

The page is from my day book?

I record everything that happens at Quinn Books.

All these pages were torn out, I thought it was Sherman.

Why did you think it was him?

They were all my notes about Mr Quinn's death.

That was Sherman's father.

It was a heart attack, sudden.

But the strange thing was,

I found his medicine in Sherman's briefcase.

His father always had his heart medicine with him.

What was Mr Quinn Sr's name?

Samuel Quinn.

Of course it was.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry, we didn't mean to offend.

Is it time?

Yes, I'd say so.

The ambassador's in the front row.

Then lead the way.

Miss Whitfield, may I have a word?

Father, can't it wait? We're about to go through.

I'm afraid not.

I hope we can keep this brief, Father.

When did you fall in love with Samuel Quinn?

I'm sorry?

The ring, the initials?

It was a gift from Sherman's father.

I don't quite follow.

When Sherman mentioned his father's memorial,

I could not help notice your reaction.

Presumably because that was the first you'd heard of it?

So you decided to consult the incomparable Miss Rush's

day book to find out the date.

And you found something else.

It must have been very hard, mourning alone.

It didn't make sense, Samuel always had his heart medicine.

When I read those entries...

..it all made perfect sense.

Samuel and I were so close, he told me everything.

He told me when he'd finally threatened to cut that foolish boy

out of his will.

Poisoning the top-right corners was a plan worthy of a crime writer.

That does sound like fiction, Father.

You knew that Miss Velasquez had cyanide in her photographic kit.

You knew Mr Sherman's habit when reading unbound pages.

And you believed that he was responsible

for his father's death.

There's no doubt.

If it weren't for him, Samuel would be alive today.

So you confronted him.

There are dates and times of all the arguments,

and she found his medicine in your possession.

Give those to me. Is it true? Did you take it?

What's it matter to you?

HE CHUCKLES BITTERLY

So you were his fancy woman?

I loved him!

If you did anything to harm Samuel, I've a right to know.

Nobody can prove that I did anything.

Still, if I were you, I'd burn these after reading.

You knew that Sherman would seal his own fate...

..and destroy the evidence.

So you left him to die.

HE CHOKES

Just like he left his poor father.

Samuel's life was worth a thousand of his.

And what is Miss Velasquez's life worth?

Eva won't be found guilty.

But if she is, you know what she would suffer.

I never meant for her to take the blame.

You must confess.

To save her life and your immortal soul.

I can't, Father.

No.

Confess.

And repent.

It is the only way that you will find peace

and be reunited with Samuel.

Where on Earth is Frances?

I could warm them up for you.

Oh, thank goodness!

I won't be able to do my reading, darling.

Why ever not?

Something I must do for Eva.

No...

Samuel always told me you'd go far.

Look after the other Sisters for me, won't you?

Frances?

You must give your work to the world now, it's good.

Maxine would be proud.

Sorry to interrupt.

Father Brown said you'd like a word, Miss Whitfield?

Yes, that's right.

Shall we?

Good luck, darlings!

What did she mean, "Maxine would be proud"?

Thank you, all.

It's an honour to stand before such eminent guests.

When I invited you all here, I had no idea what lay before me.

And although I may not be the writer that I hoped...

..this extract is the best

that I can offer you today.

"It's the ordinary life that leaves the lasting impression.

"Not carved in stone but fleeting,

"like his footsteps in the snow.

"I wanted to lay my heel to his heel,

"his toe to my toe.

"And if I could, I would live here forever

"and remake the same imprints in every new snowfall,

"telling every passer-by that the man I loved,

"who was so tragically torn from me,

"was once here by my side."

APPLAUSE

Although I'm proud to read these words to you today,

they are not mine.

I've come to realise that I am not a writer.

These words belong to Maxine Mortimer,

who is returning to the spotlight after a recent sabbatical.

Welcome back, Miss Mortimer.

They're waiting for you.

Well done!

The Russian ambassador was most impressed.

Crisis averted.

Well, I can't thank you enough, I have been offered a deal.

Several deals in fact.

Very well deserved.

I'll send you all signed copies.

It is a shame that Frances can't be here.

Guess what?

I shared Brenda's poem with some publishers.

It's going in an anthology of light verse.

I'm going to be published!

Your work with Miss Palmer is most impressive.

Perhaps being a writer isn't a prerequisite after all.

For being a Sister of Aeschylus?

On a trial basis at first.

But now I do see the value of a publisher's perspective.

Thank you, thank you, Padre!

Gracias, thanks, de verdad! You're welcome.

I'm so happy you're back, Miss Velasquez.

Me too.

How did it go?

Let's get you inside, the others will want to see you.

Thank you so much for getting her back safe and sound.

I've seen enough of this.

Isabel? I do have eyes, you know!

I saw you both together in the great hall.

Oh...

That was merely a character exercise.

Yes, which I really, really didn't want to do.

Isabel, nobody could hold a candle to you.

Well, that is reassuring to hear.

Mrs Devine, I am mortified that I gave you the wrong impression.

Please let me make it up to you. It's fine.

I could help with the wedding!

You'd love that, wouldn't you Mrs D?

There's really no need.

Not another word! I may not be a writer

but I certainly know how to put on a good do.

And we must all use our God-given talents, isn't that right, Father?

Yes.

Well, then it's settled!

And we will make it the best wedding that Kembleford has ever seen!

How kind.