All language subtitles for 16 Upstairs Downstairs S2E03 (Married love) (moviesbyrizzo)

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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is an out-of-date chivalry.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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