Original subtitles

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- what's this? - Boot laces, silly.

What did you think they was, licorice?

- But you said, "Iron them." ROSE: That's right.

Not the first of April, is it?

Here, where was you before you come here?

A gentleman always has his boot laces ironed.

No wonder why they didn't fight a revolution.

Oh, use a cloth, silly.

And when you done that, don't forget to iron the newspapers.

You wouldn't like me to do the bacon, as well, would you?

Sugar bowl's empty again.

Oh, about as much room in this kitchen

as the black hole of Calcutta.

Perhaps you wouldn't mind

handing me down the sugar, Mrs. Fellowes.

I can't do more than one thing at a time, not with my leg.

Never been anywhere Without a kitchen maid before.

It's not as if they were poor people.

If I've told Lady Marjorie once, I've told her a dozen times,

I wasn't used to heavy work.

There you are.

I'll do the papers later, along with the postage stamps.

Oh, Mrs. Fellowes,

did you remember to order any more thick-cut marmalade?

Oh, I can't remember everything.

"Not with my leg."

ROSE: [ Laughs ]

Oh! Rose!

[ Gasps ] That's your fault!

Then I'll just have to do them again, then, won't I?

[Birds chirping]

When Lawrence?

Later on, when we're more settled.

I'm sure it shouldn't --

What? What shouldn't what?

Shouldn't worry you so much.

We're husband and wife.

At least everybody thinks we are.

Well, perhaps we should have stayed just two people.

Two children, I'm afraid you mean, Lawrence.

You said yourself, Elizabeth,

that marriage is an out-of-date chivalry.

But, darling, if we'd simply lived together,

I would still have wanted you to make -- make a woman of me.

Oh, what a fatuous expression.

I don't know any other way to say it.

LAWRENCE: Well, I should think not.

There's something positively unhealthy

with your preoccupation with this -- this --

Goodness gracious, is this really Lawrence Kirbridge,

the Fabian poet?

What about you and Evelyn Larkin?

That was not as you imagine,

and I prefer not to compare you with Evelyn.

ELIZABETH: Why not?

Because a pure woman

is not supposed to care about such -- such --

So, neither of our mothers is a pure woman.

Oh, now, please, don't try to be clever.

We've no way of knowing

what our mothers may or may not have felt,

and I, for one, prefer not to contemplate anything so bizarre.

Lawrence. Lawrence, if you could hear yourself.

Of course I can hear myself.

In Vienna you said, "When we get home,

when we're in our own house, I'll marry you."

Elizabeth, Weren't you happy in Vienna?

What's that got to do with it?

A great deal. Weren't you?

Most of the time.

I thought it was idyllic.

I suppose so.

Wasn't that enough for you?

Enough?

Holding your precious hands all night,

reciting poetry to you, kissing you.

I love you too tenderly, too chastely to --

to submit you to anything crude.

For me, it's -- it's bliss enough just -- just to --

What's the matter? Don't you want me to?

Of course I do, darling, but it --

it makes me...want --

Well, perhaps you're not well.

Oh, it just gives out on me when I'm least expecting it.

The doctor at my last place said I was lucky to be walking.

Hey, that smells good.

Here, you've had your breakfast.

Aye, well, I never say no to second helpings.

Get on with you.

Takes me back to my old mum's kitchen in Abergavenny, that.

Thomas, I'll do that. You get your master dressed.

All my nice breakfast will spoil.

What about your leg, Mrs. Fellowes?

I can lift an iron.

Mrs. Fellowes is right. We must get them dressed.

I'm all behindhand.

Wake up, handsome.

Oh, it's a lovely bit of linen, that.

Ooh. [ Sniffing ]

Oh, my God! [ Gasps ]

Oh.

[ Gasps ]

I've laid out the town clothes, sir, and the lilac cravat.

Très juste.

There's a train to London Bridge at 9:57, sir,

-or a boat from the -- - No, no, not the boat.

Something terribly hoi polloi about those boats.

Right you are, sir.

More suited to a day trip to Southend

than a descent on one's publisher.

Yes, sir. I-l draw the bath, sir.

- will there be anything else? - No.

No, not just for the moment, thank you.

Oh, yes, you might come and scrub my back.

ROSE: I'm sorry I'm a bit behind, Miss Lizzie.

Mrs. Fellowes had an accident with the eggs.

Are you all right?

Yes, of course. Why shouldn't I be?

We better get you dressed.

- why? - well, for breakfast.

I'm not hungry.

Oh.

Would you like me to bring you a little something on a tray?

If you can bring me a little appetite to eat it with.

Oh, don't worry, Rose. I'll go down like this.

Oh.

What's wrong?

None of my business, madam.

We shall need the brown smoking jacket cleaned, Thomas.

There's ink on my writing sleeve.

I'll see to it this afternoon, sir.

Having a little soiree on Friday week in the evening.

Just a few brother poets, men of the world.

Right you are, sir.

You may scrub with a will, Thomas.

I'm not made of porcelain.

I was just a bit frightened of you cutting your throat, sir.

Yes, well, I'll look after this end.

Right you are, sir.

Ah, that's better.

Stimulates the circulation. - Yes, sir.

This, um, soiree, sir --

Champagne, I think, Thomas. Pink champagne.

And have Mrs. Fellowes provide a few little things

for a light supper 'round about 11:00.

Right you are, sir.

I didn't ask you to stop.

No, no, I was just, uh -- just thinking about the time, sir.

Oh, good Lord, what time's the train after the 9:50 whatever?

Well, there isn't one, sir, not to get you to Sir Edwin's office

-by 11:00. - Damn.

I daren't keep him waiting. It's only my first book.

You, uh, ever thought of a little motorcar, sir?

Rather ostentatious, don't you think, Thomas?

Rather bourgeois.

Well, sir, Mr. Bellamy, you know --

He's a politician.

It would be most unseemly for a poet to proceed everywhere

by a series of explosions.

Yes, sir.

I was just thinking, you wouldn't have to

trouble yourself about train timetables, sir.

Yes, I daresay a little motorcar would bring its own troubles.

Not when you have a man that understands them, sir.

Yes, well, you're a very modern character, Thomas,

but even you should realize that a poet --

Has wings. I know.

You're gonna need them this morning, sir.

I was going to say that a poet

cannot afford the same extravagances as a politician.

No, sir, not even when he's married

to a politician's daughter?

And don't overreach yourself, Thomas.

I only try to give satisfaction, sir.

Well, mostly you succeed.

LAWRENCE: Good God.

What on earth's happened to the newspaper?

THOMAS: Terribly sorry, sir. Bit of an accident.

Won't happen again.

Mrs. Fellowes' leg, you see.

LAWRENCE: I don't begin to understand.

- Good morning, sir. - Morning Rose.

Nothing wrong with your leg, I trust?

No, sir. Thank you, sir.

ELIZABETH: Are you going out again, Lawrence?

Yes. Sir Edwin wants to see me about the collected edition.

Again?

As a matter of fact, poets work better on the move.

I get some of my best rhythms from the railway track.

ELIZABETH: When am I to have the pleasure?

LAWRENCE Hmm?

Of meeting this famous Sir Edwin.

Oh, next week possibly, if he accepts.

We're giving a little soiree to herald the publication.

Are we? I'll speak to Mrs. Fellowes about it.

Well, I've already spoken to Thomas.

Thank you.

When will you be requiring me again?

Hmm?

Perhaps I phrased it wrongly.

Will you be requiring me again?

Now, please, Elizabeth, don't be childish.

No, we must be very grown-up people, mustn't we?

Have you any idea, Lawrence, why we got married?

This is a bad moment to examine our consciences.

I've got a train to catch at 9:50 whatever.

It's always a bad moment.

At night you're too busy writing.

In the morning you're hurrying up to London.

Weekends you spend with the Anstees.

Could I have an appointment, please?

You cannot expect married life to be all daisies, you know.

Haven't seen a single daisy so far.

Well, say something, do.

Leave me with some poetic gem that I can meditate on all day.

I wish you'd dress for breakfast.

Is that the best you can do?

Still, if you want to behave like a poule deluxe.

No, Lawrence, I'd much rather behave as a wife and mother.

Is that so extraordinary?

It's something we never discussed.

I know. I must have taken it for granted.

What on earth did we talk about, Lawrence?

I have the impression we talked incessantly.

- what was it all about? - I'm sorry, Elizabeth,

but I'm really gonna have to dash.

And leave all that delectable nourishment?

Man must work.

And woman must weep.

It doesn't necessarily follow.

I'm afraid you don't love me, Lawrence.

Oh, bosh. Utter bosh.

Then why?

Why what?

Why shouldn't you want us

to make something of our very own that we could share?

"You cannot love little lumps of flesh,

and what are babies else?"

Dr. Johnson.

Don't be patronizing.

Anyway, I believe it not absolutely essential

to have babies at first if we --

If one is careful.

Oh, God, Elizabeth! Not at breakfast.

You won't talk about it in bed.

I wish you'd see a doctor.

- whatever for? - You seem to be out of sorts.

What a stunning observation.

Elizabeth, I do detest sarcasm.

And I detest being relegated

to the position of a decorative doll,

especially since I don't feel particularly decorative anymore.

I am sorry to have to say this, but you seem to me

to be developing a wayward, morbid disposition.

Restiveness I am accustomed to regard as an unwelcome quality,

Whether in women or horses.

Oh!

You -- You dwell constantly on your own selfish desires

Without a thought for the enormous responsibilities

that I have to face with the publication of my first book.

You're content to send me out of the house late

and with mounting blood pressure.

I'm afraid that you've been spoiled by a doting father,

but I for one, Elizabeth --

I for one am -- am not going to encourage you.

You accuse me of selfishness.

Not once have you given in to my wishes, not once!

I am fast becoming your doormat, Lawrence,

for you to wipe your shoes on.

Silence, Elizabeth!

- The servants will hear you. - You afraid of witnesses?

Go on, trample on me. You might as well.

Raise your fists to me like any common coal heaver,

at least to express some feeling for me!

Yes, yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?

Physical violence -- That would really please you.

You're ill, Elizabeth.

And you, Lawrence?

Is there nothing wrong with you?!

9:30 precisely, sir, and 15 minutes' walk to the station.

You'll just about do it if you put your best foot forward.

Might I ask what time you'll be back for dinner, sir?

Frankly, I have no idea.

Water clouds burst up there, all right.

What do you mean?

-"Silence, Elizabeth." - what?

Yeah, that was him, like my old dad of a Saturday night.

And she's yelling back like a bally fishwife,

called him a common coal heaver.

- Ooh, I never. - what was you doing?

- Standing listening? - Nothing of the sort.

I was on my way to tell him time was getting on.

"You're ill, Elizabeth," he said.

She burst into tears and ran upstairs.

- She nearly knocked me over. -[ Bell rings]

I wouldn't be in your shoes, Rose.

Don't talk such nonsense, and stop your gossiping.

It's none of our affair what goes on upstairs.

Like Mr. Hudson always says,

we've got our own business to mind.

Probably just a lovers' tiff.

You'd do best to get about your work, the pair of you.

I don't take orders from you, my girl.

And I don't take part in kitchen gossip, neither.

Ooh, my lady high and mighty.

Rose talks enough good sense.

[ Door opens ]

ELIZABETH: Where have you been?

Coming upstairs, Miss Lizzie.

You're getting as slow as an elephant.

Sorry, madam.

And I hate you calling me "madam."

Yes, Miss Lizzie.

I better get dressed.

Cream day dress, Miss Lizzie?

No, the orange one.

Oh.

You going out, Miss Lizzie?

No. I just feel like dressing up.

Might make me feel as if I have something to do.

Why not trot up to London, see Miss Winchmore?

- Trot? - Do you good.

You could get a river bus.

Yuck.

Thomas was only saying that what you and the master need

is a nice little motorcar.

See, he could chauffeur Mr. Kirbridge

to the station in the morning,

then take you for a little spin in the afternoon.

We can't afford one.

Thomas says that your father

would appreciate the advantages to his daughter

of being able to get out and see her family.

Thomas says, does he?

Mm.

He knows ever such a lot about motorcars.

There are heavy running expenses, surely?

Oh, well, Thomas says that you tax the vehicle for a pound,

take out a road license for 2 guineas,

a license to drive for 5 shillings, and bob's your uncle.

And Thomas is your chauffeur.

He's a shrewd young man, I believe.

Oh, there's no harm in him.

He says you'd look a treat in a motoring bonnet.

Does he?

Bowling along in the breeze

would soon put the roses back in your cheeks, Miss Lizzie.

Master would be sure to lighten up.

Would he?

Mm, perhaps you're right. I have rather gone to seed.

I shall have to speak to him about it.

- To Thomas? - No, silly, to Mr. Kirbridge.

Rose?

Mm-hmm?

When I caught you the other night, you and Thomas --

I have apologized for that, Miss Lizzie.

It won't occur again.

It's all right. I'm not going to scold you.

Although, if I hadn't come down when I did --

It was only a bit of fun.

I wouldn't do anything not proper,

not before I was married.

You ought to know that.

Ah.

So you haven't ever --

Never, Miss Lizzie, 'course not.

What you thinking of?

I don't know.

I thought perhaps you might be able to help me.

Help you?

Don't you think men are difficult to understand?

Oh, I don't mean fathers and brothers and family,

but men, just men.

Well, I wouldn't know, Miss Lizzie.

Gentlemen is different to servants.

Don't you believe it, Rose.

Well, stands to reason.

I mean, men what haven't been educated

all just want one thing.

That's what my auntie used to say.

And you have to suffer it.

Do you think it would be such suffering, Rose?

Well, I wouldn't know, Miss Lizzie.

I'm not a married woman.

Your auntie thought all men were the same?

All working men.

Well, men are men,

Whether they wear a clean shirt once a day or once a week.

Well, that's what my auntie said.

Why don't you ask your mother?

Unfortunately, Rose,

such things are not thought a proper subject of conversation

between a mother and her daughter.

That's why I'm asking you.

Well, my uncle was brutal, my auntie used to say,

especially when he'd had a drop.

I don't think that will ever be Mr. Kirbridge's problem.

Oh, I didn't mean --

What have you got me saying?

We shouldn't be talking like this.

I've got a pile of ironing to do in the kitchen.

And Thomas will be there.

Expect so.

And he'll tease you and make you laugh.

And nothing, Miss Elizabeth.

He's got his work to do. I've got mine.

And it will all be so easy, so easy.

I don't understand you.

No, of course you don't.

Oh, I want --

I wish --

I'm sorry, Rose dear. I'm behaving very badly.

I think we must forget the whole conversation.

EDWIN: Nothing like first-page proofs, hmm?

- I feel like a father. -[ Laughs ]

In that case, I suppose I am the midwife, hmm?

[Both chuckle]

Will you have a glass of Madeira?

Oh, thank you, yes.

But we simply must make room

for some of these new Viennese ones you sent me.

There's a completely new voice, a deeper sounding of experience.

Marriage agrees with you, my dear.

[ Chuckles ]

There are some things I don't understand.

- There you are. - Thank you.

For instance, this in, uh, "Sonnet at Grinzing,"

which, by the way, is not a sonnet at all.

- I didn't mean it technically. - well, never mind.

But now then, these lines, now, yes, pray elucidate, my dear.

"When we come near enough to touch,

all beauty flies away.

And when we draw to nigh the fount,

the string of life's decay."

Well, now, is that descriptive of the fount or what?

Oh, no, no, it's a verb.

"The spring of life is decay."

Oh, I see.

Sour thoughts for a young man on his honeymoon, hmm?

And then there's this curiosity.

[ Chuckles ]

This we'll definitely leave out.

Which?

"Venus arising from a zinc tub."

Oh.

Very Degas, my dear, but I don't think the public is quite ready

for this sort of thing.

"Bright Botticelli never saw such vegetable stew."

Now, Lawrence, that's naughty.

Venus arising from her bath is not a vegetable stew.

I meant the -- the flesh all overcooked.

It's sad stuff, my dear.

One day you'll be able to print such things.

Oh, I can print them, all right, but nobody will buy them.

Were you in your cups when you wrote it?

- Or was it meant to be funny? - Neither.

Well, my genius, you must learn to hoard all such aperçue

until you're in the sear and yellow.

A young man with, they tell me,

a ravishingly beautiful young wife

can do without such bilious thoughts.

His public won't appreciate it.

I must write as I feel.

Mm.

Sir Edwin, I was thinking of holding a little soiree

on Friday week,

and I was wondering if you'd do me the honour.

Delighted. I should like nothing better.

Let me just consult my book of penance.

I'm most anxious to meet your bride.

I thought of asking a few of the fellows.

Monro perhaps, Wolfe if he'd come, Abercrombie.

A great good fortune -- I find I have no other engagements.

Um, may I suggest we ask Tomkins of The Morning Post?

Hmm? He has dandruff but a great deal of influence.

And that, uh -- that precious young creature

from The Saturday Review, huh?

Now, uh, am I -- am I to correct these?

EDWIN: Naturally.

Take them home and share the pleasure with your proud lady.

May I do it here?

I promise I won't disturb you.

I daresay we can find you a corner.

Lawrence, is something wrong?

You know I'm unofficial godfather to all my protégés.

Sometimes a few words with an older man...

I-I wouldn't want to burden you, Sir Edwin.

That's one of my functions -- burden bearer to the muse.

[ Chuckles ]

- Oh, I don't know. - No, there is something.

Come, I insist. Please.

I...sometimes think that I'm not the sort of man

who should ever have got married.

Ah.

Yes, I must say

I suspected something of the sort from these.

You said marriage seemed to agree with me.

Oh, I was probing, my dear.

Gently, I hope.

And from a publisher's point of view,

anything which makes a poet write better poetry

is agreeable.

But that's far too cruel an attitude for me to maintain

with a young man for whom I have a high regard.

I like Elizabeth so very much,

it only makes me feel more of a cad.

Well, what is the nature of the problem exactly, hmm?

I mean, it can't just be that she has her bathwater too hot.

Oh, forgive the levity.

Have some more medicine, hmm?

I suppose --

Oh, I don't know.

I suppose one's just too poetical about life altogether.

It's all in the mind, in visions.

Like Swinburne.

Anything practical revolts me.

So the honeymoon was a bit of a shock to you?

More or less, yes.

But if you love each other,

you may reach a modus vivendi in time.

No, I don't think so. Elizabeth has a very...

well, a very physical nature.

I don't think she'd ever be happy

with a platonic arrangement.

Oh.

In fact, I think it may be making her rather ill.

Oh, my dear.

- You've talked about it? - A little, yes.

Brave.

And the worst part of it is, I cannot work.

I haven't written a line worth repeating

since we've been to Greenwich.

Everything's just gone out of me.

I see those great reproachful eyes and --

if only --

It's no good.

That side of her nature revolts me.

Oh. I deeply sympathize.

Although, thank God, I do not share, uh,

well, what shall we call it?

To borrow a phrase from friend Freud, the Swinburne Complex.

What can I do?

Well, for the moment, nothing.

And certainly nothing that disgusts you.

That will only succeed in disgusting her,

and then we shall have two sad youngsters on our hands.

It would be a thousand pities

if she were to sacrifice her warm nature.

Mm.

Fond as I am of you, my dear, I'm torn for the two of you.

You see, I've no wish to keep her from her...

well, I suppose, her needs.

I just know that it's not in me to --

I cannot --

I cannot see her in that light.

I love and respect her far too much.

You have befriended me.

Um...could you...

Befriend her?

THOMAS: [Whistling ]

[ Footsteps approach ]

Oh, Thomas, did your master say what time he would be home?

Uh, no, ma'am.

I think we better wait dinner.

It's only cold meats.

We had cold meats last night.

I thought we agreed

that you'd make it into some nice little pie.

Well, I can't always keep things hot, madam.

They spoil.

Spoiled a good joint of beef the day before yesterday.

Mr. Kirbridge particularly detests cold meats.

If we are to have cold, what is the matter with a lobster salad?

I has to keep within my budget, madam.

You wouldn't like it at the end of the week.

You have absolutely no right

to alter the menus Without consulting me.

It's -- It's unheard of!

Mr. Kirbridge has a particularly sensitive palate.

A diet of cold meat and potatoes will end up

by driving him to dine at his club every night of the week.

ROSE: If Mr. Kirbridge is gonna be very late, well,

perhaps there would be time to make it into something nice.

Who's asking you, Rose?

We don't know for certain that he's going to be late at all.

Well, there you are, then, madam. what am I to do?

Oh, use some imagination, Mrs. Fellowes.

I'm sure Mrs. Bridges would have had a solution.

I don't stand for no comparisons.

I was engaged for good, plain cooking, nothing fancy.

For heaven's sake, is nobody going to listen to me

upstairs or down?

Thomas, you can come and make up the fire

-when your master comes in. - Yes, ma'am.

[Bell rings]

Oh, that'll be him now, ma'am.

It's all right. I'll let him in.

Elizabeth. Where are the servants?

I wanted to welcome you home myself.

Don't you think a day might come

when ladies open their own front doors as a matter of course?

Dangerous socialism.

Your coat, sir.

Lawrence... [ Smooches ]

I'm sorry about this morning.

Oh, that's all right.

So am I, really.

It was just the thought of your being out all day.

Well, most husbands go out every day.

Presumably their wives occupy themselves somehow.

Now you've got a household to manage.

Oh, that.

Ahh.

Lawrence? - Hmm?

I do want us to share things still.

The books, your poems.

Of course, dearest.

We seem to be slipping into the very trap we wanted to avoid.

We're becoming a dull, suburban couple

with about as much interest in Mr. Welles' modern utopia

as a couple of mice.

Mr. Wellesdoesn't have all the answers, you know.

We no longer even discuss the questions.

I see nobody.

But you shall, I promise you.

To begin with, Sir Edwin is coming to our party.

- Oh, good. - I'm sure you'll like him.

I mean to if you do.

He's an incredibly understanding man.

Elegant and wise and, oh, man of the world.

Don't frighten me.

Oh, you couldn't be frightened of Edwin.

He's asked me to drop the "sir," by the way.

Lawrence, I was thinking, if we had a little motorcar --

Ha. You mean Thomas was thinking if we had a little motorcar.

We cannot afford it.

Perhaps Papa --

After all, my allowance is not ungenerous,

and I may spend it how I like.

But they're such beastly, vulgar things.

Do you think so?

- well, don't you? -[ Door opens]

Oh, Thomas!

Mr. Kirbridge and I were just discussing motorcars.

Do you know something about them?

Many fashionable people consider them amusing, ma'am.

Really?

Yes, I daresay we'll see one or two roll up

for the soiree next week.

I'm sure Sir Edwin has one.

Well, perhaps. I don't know.

He's a very rich man.

We're not exactly paupers, darling.

If I might add, sir, there's a saving on railway fares,

and you're free to go Where you like when you like.

If you like,

provided the beastly thing doesn't break down on the way.

Oh, they're getting more reliable every year, sir.

A friend of mine who deals in them was showing me

this little Dennis tourer the other day, sir.

Uh, 18 horsepower.

18 horsepower!

Fancy!

You seem to be becoming a very knowledgeable mechanic

all of a sudden, Elizabeth.

Lawrence, anyone can imagine horsepower.

It's a most evocative phrase,

as I would expect you to appreciate.

Well, I appreciate the fact that horses don't puncture.

Horses need a great deal of care, sir.

And you can't pretend they don't smell.

Well, it's a more natural smell than petrol gas.

Well, hardly more attractive.

It's the, uh --

It's the coming thing, I'm afraid, sir.

In a few years' time,

nobody will remember how to harness a horse.

Why, there's already as many motor buses as horse buses,

motor taxis as hansoms.

Three years ago, there was only two in the whole of London, sir.

I mean, you'd think the tram or the tube

-would have taken over. - Yes.

- Yes, thank you, Thomas. - Yes, sir.

I should like a motorcar, Lawrence.

That will be all, Thomas.

And I shall pay for it out of my own allowance.

I know father will advance me what I need.

Thomas.

And Thomas will make an excellent chauffeur.

Oh, only to oblige, ma'am.

If I'd wanted a chauffeur, I'd have advertised for one.

Very sorry, sir. Only thinking for the best.

And it'd do Mrs. Kirbridge good to get out and about, sir.

[ Chuckles ] I cannot fight a conspiracy.

All right, let her have her toys.

[ Horn honks ]

[ Horn honks ]

My turn!

- I beg your pardon, ma'am? - My turn to drive.

Do you think you can do it, ma'am?

Of course. I've been studying your every move.

That little pedal makes it go.

You do funny things with that little stick.

Little stick. That's the gear lever.

But I can almost hear the point of it.

And when the engine seems fit to burst its sides,

you dab on this little thing with your foot.

Clutch.

And give the little stick a jerk,

and the whole thing quietens down

as if it had had a dose of smelling salts.

Yes, well, that's not a very mechanical description,

-is it, ma'am? - Come on, change over.

Now, look, ma'am, whatever would the master say?

The master won't know.

Now, when I turn her over,

push that little lever forward, right?

Right.

[Engine turns over]

Now, you've got to go careful, ma'am,

'cause you've got the power of 18 horses under there, see.

Got it! Now, what do I do first?

Right, foot on the clutch, all the way down.

Now then, into first gear with the gear lever.

That's it. And foot off the clutch.

Now, there you are, see.

Slowly.

Sorry.

I just need to master the steering.

Such a little movement makes it go such a long way.

Yes. Yes, ma'am.

Are you all right, Thomas?

You weren't nervous, were you?

Oh, but it was exhilarating!

Exhilarating?

Yes.

Oh, yes, that's the word.

It'll be a flying machine next, I shouldn't wonder.

[ Both laugh ]

So, you don't regret leaving Eaton Place for a while?

Well, I'm always happy Wherever I'm busy, my lady.

You're a good girl, Rose.

And it's so important for Mrs. Kirbridge,

at such a happy time in her life,

to have a happy staff 'round her.

Yes, my lady.

Hello, Pearce. I'm late.

Her ladyship's not been 10 minutes, Mrs. Kirbridge.

Good. what do you think of my new motorcar?

Oh, very handy little conveyance, ma'am.

- Goes like the wind. -PEARCE: Ah.

[Bell rings]

Oh, that'll be Mrs. Kirbridge now, my lady.

Would you excuse me while I answer the door?

Yes, Rose.

[ Door opens, footsteps approach ]

- Mama, what a lovely surprise! - Darling.

I shan't be two minutes. I must just remove these things.

- I'm covered in dust. - You look like a Valkyrie.

I shan't be long. Rose!

Oh, Rose, come and help me off with this armour.

And ask Thomas to bring the kettle.

Thomas, you're to take the kettle up to the drawing room.

[ Door closes]

Excuse my attire, my lady.

Mrs. Kirbridge has just been for a drive.

That's all right.

Thomas, isn't it?

Yes, my lady.

How was the drive?

Oh, very satisfactory, my lady.

Though not, I daresay, so smooth as a Renault.

Oh, you think highly of the Renault?

Oh, it's a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

Would you put it above an English model?

Well, we're catching up, my lady,

but there's no denying the foreigners lead the way.

But you advised Mrs. Kirbridge to buy a Dennis, I believe.

Uh, well, because it's a first-rate little tool, my lady.

It's well adapted to the usage Mrs. Kirbridge had in mind.

And a Renault is something different?

A Renault?

A Renault is a princess, my lady.

It should be handled with love and reverence.

It's a pity Pearce can't hear you.

He drives it as if it were a team of horses.

And unfortunately,

a tired carburetor will not respond to the whip.

My ladyship obviously has a great feeling

for the internal combustion engine.

Oh, not so much.

Mrs. Kirbridge too.

Oh, has Mrs. Kirbridge --

Mrs. Kirbridge will make an excellent mechanic.

Oh, Thomas, that was wonderful.

It's done you good, ma'am.

MARJORIE: Darling, I hear you've been risking life and limb.

It was exhilarating and quite safe with Thomas.

Oh, kitchen fire needs coals.

What's up with you? Look like you've seen a vision.

- I have. - Go on, where?

It's parked outside the front door.

Oh, you and your bloomin' motorcars.

Why can't you be satisfied with the one you've got?

Oh, that perambulator.

Hark at you!

It was the last word on wheels this morning.

Never heard of divine discontent, Rose?

What's that?

Plenty of scope in a place like that.

[ Indistinct conversations]

[ Indistinct conversations]

- THOMAS: Good evening, sir. - Good evening.

Edwin! You found us, then, in our little suburban hideaway.

[Laughs] My chauffeur has a nose like a compass.

Well, there's beer for him at The Green Man.

I daresay he'll locate that, too.

At the moment, he's engaged in a delicate stabling maneuver.

It's like a motor show out there.

Yes, alas, single-handedly I've been unable

to stem the tide of progress.

Now, Lawrence, my dear, you mustn't become an old wig.

William Morris is dead.

It's not longer de rigueur to weave our own winding sheets.

Herbert, nice to see you.

Charlie, how's your poor mother?

Oh. Ah.

- Tomkins! - TOMKINS: Ah, Sir Edwin.

Good to see a man of your taste patronizing the avant-garde.

I shall renew my subscription to The Morning Post tomorrow.

[ Chuckles ]

Oh. Thank you

As yet, poetry has not come to grips

with the ordinary life of the working classes, but --

Excuse me.

[ Indistinct conversations]

Elizabeth, let me introduce my friend and publisher,

Sir Edwin Partridge.

And not only Lawrence's friend, I hope, Mrs. Kirbridge.

It was good of you to come, Sir Edwin.

No, no. Edwin, please, if you can bear it.

I think the reason most children howl at their christening

is because they can't bear

the names they've been given, don't you?

Although I shall be very surprised

to hear that you misbehaved at yours.

Elizabeth suits you perfectly. - Thank you.

And, please, don't think I'm one of those boring men

who can't meet a woman Without paying a compliment.

I am the plain dealer to my very soul.

And when I say that Lawrence

is one of the brightest new poets since Bridges

and his wife a vision of loveliness,

please understand I am being no more than prudely factual.

You overwhelm us, Sir Edwin.

No, no. Edwin, I insist.

Or you must invent a name for me, hmm?

Invented names are all the fashion.

To be even plainer with you, Elizabeth,

I owe my knighthood to the fact that I lent the Liberal Party

a large printing press before the last election.

It has no pedigree at all.

But it's useful for impressing headwaiters, you know.

Urn, Lawrence, far be it for me to deny myself your company,

but I think the more you accommodate brother Tomkins,

the better for my sales and your royalties.

You see, I told you he had our interests at heart.

Evidently.

Yes.

Shall we sit this one out, Elizabeth?

ELIZABETH: Why not?

[ Indistinct conversations]

You seem to be the lone woman in a sea of masculinity.

ELIZABETH: I'm afraid so. It wasn't my idea.

Well, there are women writers, of course,

but they generally turn out to be governesses

or spinster companions or dull company of some sort.

What about Mrs. Browning?

Oh. What indeed?

The Brontës?

Ah, yes. I was thinking of poets.

Emmaline.

Uh, yes.

The exception to every rule, yes.

Don't you, uh --

Don't you find hers a very masculine talent, Elizabeth?

I admit no difference between the sexes in matters of talent.

Do you? Oh, you surprise me.

I find the greatest charm is in their difference.

Now, please don't misunderstand me.

I'm in no sense undervaluing the woman's role

in life and affairs.

Oh, no, without women,

I doubt if we men would do any of the things we do --

govern, make wars, build, write, compose.

No, no, no,

woman is the lodestar to whom man, in his darkness, turns.

Where would Lawrence's verse be Without you?

Pretty much where it was before he met me, I expect.

Oh, you undervalue yourself, Elizabeth.

The poems he has written since his honeymoon

show an entirely new depth, don't you agree?

- I -- - well?

I didn't know he'd written any.

Oh, he hasn't shown them to you?

- No. - Oh.

Well, uh, one can understand that

when one is fishing in one's troubled soul.

There it is.

You bear a great responsibility, Elizabeth,

like Dante's Beatrice or Shakespeare's dark lady.

They were not married.

I fear the wife has to be content with his second respect.

[ Laughing ] Oh, witty.

How could he fail to marry you, poor chap,

when you pile wit and knowledge on top of beauty?

Here, who's he?

Sir Edwin Partridge, the master's publisher.

I think he's lovely.

Aye. well, he's an old fox. You take care, Rose.

He'll have your chickens if you're not careful.

- Oh, you are wicked. - Aye, so is he.

You mark my words.

[Piano playing]

[ Indistinct conversations]

Give us a little Debussy, Maurice.

Oh, rot that modernistic stuff.

Let's have "The Merry widow waltz."

[ Laughter]

[Humming]

No, no, such seductiveness as yours

is sheer cruelty to publishers

and ought to be put down by an act of parliament.

I don't care much for being teased, Sir Edwin.

And I'm afraid light banter is not my forte.

I shall bore you. Excuse me.

Mine neither, Elizabeth.

It's a performance I've acquired

to compensate for a hideous bachelor list.

Beneath the peacock is a partridge,

and a very humble one,

but if I let him out too often, he'll be shot.

Try to understand.

And tell me about Vienna.

Vienna is glorious but somehow --

You will think me very earnest.

Somehow poised for a decline.

There's a smell of death in the air.

Something like that. How did you know?

I was there last season.

You felt it, too?

What sensitive person could fail to?

I don't think Lawrence did.

Ah, Lawrence, no doubt, had other preoccupations --

interior ones.

Does he tell you about his preoccupations?

He doesn't need to. He speaks in his voice.

[Lively piano music plays]

Isn't this an atrocious parity?

No lean meat, only fat.

It sums up Mariada, I'm afraid.

Confess, you didn't expect me to be a critic of the age.

No.

You must learn to ignore appearances, Elizabeth.

Your honest Iago is very often an Iago.

And your fool may be as wise as Leo's.

Please say something to stop me talking so much.

With a woman of your character,

I'm always afraid of making an idiot of myself.

Are you going to give us a foretaste of these new verses?

When I've had a few more of these.

[ Both laugh ]

We're gonna need the wedding breakfast

before this night's out, Rose.

I've never known such a thirsty lot.

Ah, well, they're artists, you see.

They see life true, so they can't face it sober.

[Sighs] Miss Lizzie's already had more than is good for her.

I've never known her so tiddly.

Yeah, the master ought to take more care of her.

I'd want no man to flirt with my wife under my very nose.

There you are. There's the next installment of gaiety.

Hang on. Hang on a minute.

Got to taste it first, haven't I?

Make sure it's not corked.

♫ Cover it quick, Jemina ♫

♫ Cover it over quick ♫

♫ Put my dinner on the ground ♫

Shh, Shh, Shh, Shh.

Ladies present.

♫ Catch a cold if you're more than half a tick ♫

Lady present and preoccupied.

Sir Edwin seems to be monopolizing

your wife, Lawrence.

Well, they both have an excellent taste in people.

It's all in dreamy, White porcelain.

- Yeah? - Head of a child.

It's the divinest thing you ever saw.

I fell in love with it,

so lovely Lawrence bought it for me.

Hello, lovely Lawrence.

Lawrence, my dear, come and join us.

Elizabeth was just telling me

of a piece of Capodimonte you picked up in Vienna.

Picked up? Yes, that's rather an understatement.

It's too heavenly.

I've discovered Sir Edwin is a connoisseur of porcelain.

Sir Edwin's a connoisseur of everything.

I should simply adore to see it.

Unfortunately it's in our bedroom,

and I hardly dare to fetch it down here.

Come, my children, lead me the way.

I have not come all the way to Greenwich

to be denied the sight of a piece of Capodimonte.

Lawrence could show you.

No, no, I must have it displayed by its owner.

Lawrence, like so many poets, has no visual sense at all.

Isn't it sad how an overdevelopment of one sense

can so often lead to an undernourishment of another?

Did you know that Swinburne was tone-deaf?

Mm-hmm.

But that is where we connoisseurs come into our own.

All our sensibilities are equally well-nourished.

Thomas, keep the champagne in circulation.

- I shall be back directly. - Yes, sir.

[ Indistinct conversations, laughter in distance]

There.

Oh.

Oh, may I touch?

Of course.

Oh, it's exquisite.

But I think a Bernier Cavalo almost certainly, you know.

Yes, yes.

[ Chuckles ]

Its innocence takes one's breath away.

Eh, Lawrence?

Oh, Lawrence doesn't like children.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy, Lawrence.

I don't disapprove of childhood, only children.

That's beautiful.

I-I almost feel --

Elizabeth don't you sometimes think, in the half light --

How could you guess?

Ah.

What an exquisite dream for an exquisite dreamer.

"Why suffer still more muddy birth each pullulating spring?

Why water so the turning Earth while peasants stamp and sing?

"Let's close the book of life", he said,

"Let lovers breed no more.

Let's laugh until we all are dead and lie on Karen shore".

[Applause ]

Encore. Piece, piece.

If you want any more, you'll have to buy the book.

MAN: what did you think of them, Mr. Tomkins?

Mm? Too gloomy. Maybe they won't do.

I thought they had a pleasant swing to them.

So does the hangman's rope.

[ Laughter]

I don't know.

[ Indistinct conversations]

Goodbye, old boy.

Oh, my dear chap, you're not going, too?

Time's winged chariot, old man.

Herbert, race you back to London town.

- You're on for £20. - Done.

I haven't said goodbye to your wife.

She was feeling rather tired.

Uh, she begs to be excused.

The boy has a new voice, Tomkins, don't you agree?

It may be new.

Now, now, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

Don't go wrong about this one.

Remember, posterity always has the last laugh.

When's it coming out?

In time for Christmas, I hope.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

- Good night, Kirbridge. - Bye, Mr. Tomkins.

Interesting.

Interesting.

EDWIN: Thank you, Lawrence, for a delightful evening.

And please thank Elizabeth, too.

A woman of exquisite sensibility, Lawrence.

You are to be envied.

Am I, Edwin?

Be tender, be gentle, be tolerant.

That sounds like a poem.

Life is a poem, Lawrence.

That is my credo.

Good night, my dear.

LAWRENCE: Good night.

[ Door closes]

Oh, my feet are killing me.

I feel as if I've walked to land's end and back again.

Do you fancy a cup of cocoa?

After champagne?

Oh, I do.

I don't suppose I could persuade you to put the milk on the hob?

- No. - Oh, that's nice.

Still, I don't suppose I should have expected

a gentleman's gentleman to demean himself.

You've gone quiet all of a sudden.

Aye, well there's been enough babble in this house

to last a week in Babylon.

-[ Chuckles ] - I'm not joking.

Your precious mistress --

Yeah, what about her?

Never you mind.

I got my eyes open, at any rate.

What you on about?

Our respected employers.

What about them?

They're like a couple of children playing with fire.

'Cause they drank a lot of champagne

and spoke some rhymes out loud?

You're too innocent, Rose.

Poo.

It's half past -- [ Yawns] Half past 1:00.

I've got to get up at half past 5:00.

Hardly seems worthwhile going to bed.

I think I'll lie in tomorrow, Rose.

If wishes were horses.

Ask young laddums to lay out my dark suit, will you?

I'm going to his funeral.

It'll be your funeral, more like.

Here, you might have wait till I'd gone to bed.

Good servant shouldn't see such things, Rose.

Oh, wait a tick. I'll take me cocoa up with me.

Rose!

What?

Do you want to be a servant all your life, love?

I ain't never thought about it.

You got no ambition.

I got a good enough place.

If only you had a bit of ambition, Rose.

You're not a bad looker, if you let your hair down.

I've seen worse in the chorus at the Empire.

Here, you mind your manners.

Don't you like me just a little bit, Rose?

Mm. As long as we've got to work together.

I don't fancy lingering much longer in this place,

-and that's a fact. - why ever not?

There are places and places.

We ought to mind our references.

You explain yourself, Tom Watkins.

You explain what you mean.

Them as has ears to hear, let them hear.

- Good night, Rose. - I don't understand you.

- well, give us a kiss, then. - Not sure I want to.

It'll take stronger than you to hold my ropes, love.

Oh!

[ Chuckles ]

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