Original subtitles

It's kind of weird.

To everything there is a season.

The world awakens.

Hope is renewed.

Time heals.

Or so we like to believe.

Wake up, sleepyhead.

And we imagine the springtime will go on forever.

The scent, it's so strong.

My darling, you look pale.

Do I?

Last night you felt lightheaded.

Might this mean oh, I I don't know perhaps

But this too will pass

The season will change

For nothing ever stays

the same

I do believe you have some talent, Mr. Forsyte.

Can I draw something?

Oh, yes, and me.

Like it or not, the new season is upon us.

Beginning with the Kensington Park Spring Show.

Well, I, for one, am content to prolong our hibernation.

I was, but no longer. High time.

Well, I think we all agree that it's been a difficult winter.

But perhaps the time has come for us to safely reenter the fray.

He's abroad.

With no thoughts of returning.

Time we moved on.

Can't say the town's missed our near relations.

Lurking indoors all winter, licking their wounds.

While we, in this household, have streaked ahead.

Is it a race?

Obviously. And we pioneers have seized the initiative.

Beginning tonight with the grand unveiling of our own Age of

Enlightenment. Oh, is that your scheme, dear? Keeps me thinking it was Pa's.

Who else would it be?

Where's Irene?

Resting.

Resting? She's feeling a little below par.

What? Just that Irene may be in an interesting condition.

My word-putting is a Forsyte heir finally on his way.

Not before time.

I trust you'll name him after me?

The new scion of our great dynasty?

Speaking of dynasties...

Arthur Vickery and Co. Yes?

Courtesy of Joe and his spectacular fall from grace, we've lost over 20 clients

to them.

There is also the small matter of Salon Gold.

Fortunately, I have a scheme to rebuild our reputation and more besides.

Thank you.

Whitwater's rant?

Well, that bonanza's over.

Johannesburg's spent.

All the surface gold's gone. It's just a rash of worthless mines.

What, is it a pity? There's gold aplenty, further down.

But no means of extraction without colossal expense.

Hmm.

So, these dots, here, here, here, and here, are pits I've

just purchased on behalf of Forsyte & Co.

Are you out of your mind?

Preposterous!

Suppose there were a process which could extract gold with ease from ore found at

lower levels.

Is there such a thing?

I have a man on the ground in Whitmore's Rand, name of Peregrine, who has alerted

me to it. How did you find him?

He found me.

And what did he have to tell you about this mysterious process?

That it can and will be made available at the right price all across the Rand.

And since I'm currently the only man in England who has this information, I'm

about to make Forsyte & Co. wealthy beyond our wildest dreams.

Good of

you to

keep my chair warm, nephew.

Well, you've been here so rarely these last few months.

Rumor had it you'd retired.

Oh, wishful thinking, dear boy.

I'm still very much at the helm.

Welcome back, sir.

Welcome to Helm's Tower. Good to have you back, sir.

Is it true?

You're expecting?

What? No, no, there's nothing definite.

Oh.

Well, all the maids are talking about it. And James's house is positively

buzzing, personally.

I don't see the attraction. I hear it absolutely Rubens the figure.

But I suppose this means you'll never dance again, which I still think is the

most colossal waste. I made a vow to commit myself wholeheartedly to my

marriage. At the expense of your dreams. In order to fulfill the vows I've made

to love, to honor. And most definitely to obey.

What I choose is to appreciate what's good in the life I live instead of

mourning the one I've lost.

Well, be warned, if and when a child arrives, it won't be yours.

And whose will it be?

Theirs, of course.

You should know, anyone entering this family becomes its property.

I wouldn't be surprised if they confiscate the child at birth, keep it

in a cage at Forsyte & Co. and teach it to speculate from day one.

How's Mrs. Cole?

She's forgotten I exist.

Ah, yes.

A new addition to the family can have that effect.

But surely you have a nursemaid? Who Mrs.

Cole declares incompetent.

Mr. Forsyte, I wonder if you've had word from Joe?

Regular letters, which I burn without opening.

That was my biggest one yet!

This came for you.

From London.

Finally.

A letter from Dad or June?

I don't understand.

and the Seine at dawn, we are delighted to inform you that they have been

selected for this year's Kensington Park Spring Show.

I'm sorry, how did my paintings even get there?

I sent them.

We thought it would be good if your paintings were seen in London.

Are you angry?

No. It's just London.

When our life is here in Paris.

It would only be for a visit.

We'd all come with you.

Yes, can we?

Yes, I suppose so.

Prepare

to

make your face ache with all the smiling, simply so Uncle James can lord

it over us.

Well... If they've gone to all the trouble to put you in the shade, the

least you can do is disoblige them.

So thoughtful of you to invite us.

Oh, and so brave of you to face the world. Given how quiet you've been over

winter. In our household, we like to observe the seasons.

Winter is a chance to step back.

Young Publius Valerius, have you been expelled?

I wish I had.

That's the spirit. Don't say that. It was hard enough getting him into Eton. A

nigh on impossible without his fees being entirely funded by his

grandfather. Ah.

Hello, pubby.

Have you escaped?

You, you. We thought it fitting that he should be here as the reigning Forsyte

heir. Not for much longer.

Have I missed an announcement?

We're keeping it to close family only for the time being. Because it's not yet

confirmed.

But we'll be soon.

I feel.

No wonder he's so desperate to have his palace finished.

But on the bright side, the sooner Robin Hill is done... The sooner we can be

married.

Now then, are we ready to be dazzled?

My dear, do the honours.

Be brave, Mama.

Oh dear, I really don't think I dare.

Allow me.

Impressed, brother?

A good question.

Am I?

I've always thought that a man's home is an expression of who he is, Mama.

Yeah. Of what he intends. Couldn't agree more.

In this case, confidence.

Faith in the future.

And what will your house express, my dear?

Oh, um, I haven't really thought.

It will express whatever my dear wife wishes.

Her desires, in everything, are paramount.

If you're wondering, will I still adore you when you begin to show?

I may not begin to show. Fear not.

To me, there'll be nothing lovelier than my beloved in bloom.

And from now on, I want you to take a special care of yourself.

Not overdo things. I'm not an invalid.

No.

You. are the one destined to bless us with a foresight heir.

We should have told them.

That you're their father or that we're not legally wed.

Both.

Since you already have a wife.

Which, in Paris, no one knows, but here is common knowledge.

And so how do we protect them?

If the children and I keep to ourselves?

The issue won't arise.

Hopefully.

It's high time we put Joe's office to some use, don't you think?

Assign it to an active partner.

Especially as Soames' new gold venture's about to take off.

By rights, this should be held in trust for the next generation.

But since neither of our sons have so far provided us with an heir... I

presume you'd never countenance Joe's boy by that woman.

Imagine how scathing our old man would be.

He had very firm views about unwedded mothers.

One recalls his response to those rumours. The possible consequences of

our association with a certain lady.

Alexandra.

Well, you were hardly implicated. She was always very clear where her

affections lay.

With you, she and I had talked of eloping.

She was planning to elope with me. She was stringing you along. She was

stringing you along!

Believe me, brother.

I know.

No,

thank you.

Your key, sir. Thank you.

Go on, up you go.

Granted, these lodgings are a little bare, but... It's only for a week.

I love it.

I love being back in London.

Soames has left strict instructions.

We're to take care of you and your precious cargo.

Except we still don't know for sure.

Oh, but we can hope.

Be

honest.

Where would you rather be?

Barefoot on the banks of the Seine, knee-deep in poppies?

Tell me again, Peter.

Is it true you left her for the dressmaker? How humiliating. How can she

bear to show her face? If it was me, I'd never dare to leave the house.

So, Mater, for a while now, I've been meaning to return to a conversation you

and I had last year at the end of the gala.

You alluded to Harry Falconer as your grandson.

Did I?

Am I his father?

Why would you think that?

Because I was only intimate with one woman before I married Edith, and that

was Alexandra.

If I recall, your brother was also intimate.

with Miss Shuppert.

They flirted.

He pursued her and she wanted none of it. That book is closed.

So why even mention him? Your grandson?

Perhaps as a reminder that passion can sometimes get the better of us all.

Since you had just exiled Joe for precisely the same sin.

And Alexandra?

Where is she now?

She disappeared years ago.

Faulkner lives abroad.

But he and I have never met.

Nor do I wish to.

And nor should you.

You should have warned me you were coming.

I would have put the flags out.

It's a plain sort of a house.

The principle of which is space.

Light. The absence of fuss and ornamentation. If you dislike it, you

should say so now.

I assume we're well on the way to completion.

Are you familiar with the construction process?

Oh, but perhaps you'd like me to cut corners.

When I'm paying you 8,000 pounds.

8,500.

How is that possible?

Increase in material costs.

Craftsmanship which cannot be rushed.

But if you are dissatisfied, feel free to replace me with someone else who

costs twice as much and takes three times as long.

I think we both know that would serve neither of us.

It's a bit murky in here.

Don't think to install electricals yourself.

I think we feel our own radiance is more than adequate.

So, you made a wish, and Phil and I have been talking.

And we've come up with a cunning scheme.

And what might that be?

Well, we can't promise you the send, but we might be able to provide.

The poppies?

What's this?

June and Phil were proposing an outing.

With Irene as chaperone.

Will this be taking time away from Robin Hill?

I'll work Saturday to make up for it.

Do

you

ever wish we'd never met?

How could I?

Because you've lost so much.

And gained a whole world.

A soulmate, two children.

But yes, when I left, I... I lost things that were dear to me.

And why did you leave?

Because Frances tried to evict me to put our children out onto the street.

She was cruel.

And she wouldn't compromise. That's why you left.

Yes, but in doing so, I've caused untold pain to the family.

Mr. Forsyte.

Your ladyship.

I was surprised to see your name on the list of entries.

Though far be it from us to argue with the committee.

If they judge you worthy, as patrons of the exhibition, we must bow to their

decision.

Of course. You know my son, Hugo.

Sir Hugo?

So, what are your plans, Forsyte, ahead of the grand opening tomorrow?

To arrange my paintings, meet the sponsors and swiftly disappear?

Oh, surely not.

A new artist on the scene always creates a stir.

Why not stay for the grand opening?

And bask in the attention?

Of your family especially.

They must be so proud.

Social world.

It's never been my forte.

Mr. Forsyte.

you do understand what an honour it is to be selected.

Of course.

And you're expected to appear at the grand opening and greet your public

alongside the other chosen artists.

Unless, of course, you consider yourself above such requirements, in which case I

guarantee your prospects will suffer.

What's this?

More expense?

Useful reminder.

At any given time, somewhere in the world, Forsyte & Co. is making a profit.

Or very soon will be.

You know, I am very glad to see that Irene is finally behaving herself.

You do her an injustice, Pa.

These last few months, she's shown she very much wants to please.

And this happy news, if it proves correct, has come at exactly the right

time.

But where are my poppies? I was promised poppies!

Your wish, Madame, is our command.

I crown you Queen of the May.

Why, thank you. You're such an idiot, Phil.

We must go. We're meeting the ladies at 12.

Oh, are we not ladies?

No.

You're water nymphs.

Well, my dear, shall we plot how to take the new season by storm?

I've been lying.

To you.

But mostly to myself.

When a person is out of sight, one thinks of them a little less.

Convinces oneself they no longer have the power to hurt.

When that person returns... Has he returned?

He informs me he's exhibiting at the Spring Show tomorrow.

It's galling.

Just when I thought I was ready to face the world again.

It's infuriating. Now he's going to be there. We always go to the grand

opening. Why should we have to deprive ourselves?

Because I, for one, don't have the energy to deal with all the gossips.

And Lady Carteret has written, saying how much she's looking forward to seeing

me there.

But you should go.

Don't alter your plans on his account.

Well, Francis certainly won't attend, and it puts us in a frightful position.

Well, I would happily give Joe's daubings a miss.

And yet, are there not artists of real renown in this show, as opposed to

itinerant bohemian riffraff?

I believe Whistler's exhibiting, possibly Leighton.

Well, then, will it be somewhat amusing to see Joe's pitiful efforts woefully

outclassed? Well, now you're talking.

Why do people despise Joe?

Now, let me think.

He abandoned his post, shamed his family.

I can see that his behavior is far from ideal, especially for a foresight.

Personally, I don't despise him.

I pity him.

Except for the obvious.

What?

His children.

Why else do we labor?

What is the point of us if our legacy is simply bricks and mortar?

But in flesh and blood, our name lives on.

You seek immortality?

I seek... a sign.

That I was even here at all.

That I left a mark.

That I mattered.

There's nothing more to be done.

I wrote to them to explain why I'm compelled to be there. And you've given

them the chance to absent themselves.

Which I hope for everyone's sake they will.

Perhaps I'll come instead.

I'd happily have you there with me.

No. This is your day, your work.

Which you have inspired and enabled in every way.

Go, you're already late.

Soames sent me to see if you needed anything.

Oh, to stop being treated like a trine at all.

Especially when there's actually no need.

Oh.

I see.

It was a false alarm.

Soames will be so disappointed to have failed to wrangle you into the manacles

of motherhood. Manacles?

You make it sound as if we're prisoners.

Or hostages.

As Monty reminds me every time I threaten to jilt him.

Go, by all means, Freddy. But remember, our son is a property of his father.

As his mother, you have no rights whatsoever.

But you're not intending to... Leave him?

Don't tempt me.

But trust me, I will not make the same mistake twice.

No more puppies for me.

I'll see you downstairs.

What a treat.

A new artist.

Oh, it's Julian Forsythe. A little sloppy.

I quite agree.

Mr Cole, Mrs Cole, delighted to see you.

How rude.

Predictable.

Well, these are foresight friends.

At least they're just ignoring you.

You could have been torn to shreds.

Well, I think that's still very much on the cards.

Grandmama.

It's good to see you.

I've been debating.

Can one admire the art but deplore the artist?

I'm grateful for your support.

And you need it.

What is it?

Forgive him.

He was my dear papa.

He made me feel completely safe and then threw me over.

So I was nothing at all.

You could never be nothing.

Let's go in.

There could be champagne.

Ghastly. Indeed, terribly unseemly.

Well,

cousin, how was life in outer Utopia?

Liberating as you doubtless find it at Forsyte and Co. without me there to vex

you. Oh, I don't know.

I rather miss the exercise.

You'll forgive me if I don't make a purchase.

Not to my taste.

You approve?

No, no, I adore.

I almost wish you hadn't captured it so perfectly, because now I long to be

there.

It's strange.

What is?

In all the time we've known each other, we've barely exchanged two words.

Yet, when I look at these paintings, I feel as if I see your soul.

And you see mine.

Thank you.

Bravo.

Really such an achievement.

Look at them all.

Dying for us to make a scene.

Let's disappoint them.

Especially that old tabby.

I never expected to see you here.

Perhaps you prefer me to retire to a nunnery.

You know I wouldn't.

I can't bear the thought of how I've hurt you.

Is she here?

Of course not. Not that I care.

I'm a match for anyone.

Always.

We return to Paris tomorrow.

So soon.

I would have asked you to tea. Perhaps another time.

Frances, I am truly sorry for the pain I've caused you and... Ah, well.

I think I've seen all there is to see.

Shall we be off?

Dad.

How are you?

I have nothing to say to you.

My compliments on your triumph, Mrs. Forsyte, over my dear mother.

Well, Sir Hugo, she does love to stir the pot.

And was doubtless hoping to treat the Forsytes to a public drubbing.

But in fact, you were the vanquisher.

I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again.

Very soon.

Take me home.

So,

we've had a reprieve. From what?

The nursery.

You seem to take a lively interest in my affairs.

Isn't that what friends do?

Friends should be glad that my life is hugely blessed.

Except you've sacrificed the very thing which has made your soul come alive.

Phil, I... I know what it means to you.

And how you can surrender it all to him.

You're a gentleman, Mr. Bassini.

And?

You have choices.

Were you much admired?

Did you make useful connections?

I was universally reviled.

But by some miracle, I sold a painting.

I knew you would.

So we can return to Paris now.

Oh.

You mean not to stay then?

Well, of course. Paris is our home.

Is it?

Paris, it was and it is an escape.

No one judges us. No one cares who we are or what we do.

And we can pretend all the pain we caused never happened.

But I know you.

In your heart, you'll never be at peace while you're at odds with your family.

Why do you think I sent the paintings?

I knew there would be a good chance you'd be selected and that...

If you were, perhaps you'd like to stay on.

Try and find a way to mend things with your family.

If there was even the slightest hope.

They're stubborn.

All of them.

And this town can be cruel.

It will take time and patience.

Perhaps you will have to turn the other cheek.

But you have me.

And the children.

And surely if there's one thing we've learned, it's that living a lie and

hiding away is not the answer.

So be it.

Disappointing selection this year.

Did you see anything you liked?

I did.

In fact, I bought one.

May I ask which?

The Sen at Dawn.

Joe's painting.

My promised life in Paris was denied me, so it brought back fond memories.

I understand that Paris will always have a place in your heart.

But when I think of the very many blessings we have here... There is one

blessing for which... we must wait a little longer.

I am not with child.

I'm truly sorry to hear that.

Let's not dwell on it.

We must simply try harder.

And tomorrow...

I had a surprise planned.

Perhaps we should still attempt it. No, of course.

So when exactly do we see this surprise?

All in good time.

Phil!

What are you doing here?

I work here.

This is Robin Hill.

Yes. Come, my dear. Let me show you how splendid the view is.

Is it not glorious?

Here we can have room to breathe.

Imagine a life away from the crush of Fitz Allen Terrace.

Just you and I and our children.

Mr. Bassini, why are we not further along?

Yesterday, when you said, no more puppies, how would you avoid it?

By avoiding Monty.

Only for certain days.

When, you know, one is most likely to bear fruit.

Every month.

I get Monty roaring drunk each night for an entire week.

He falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow and thus doesn't trouble me.

And I remain unencumbered.

I was thinking of taking my stepmother away for a few days, perhaps to

Brighton. I think the sea air will do us some good and it'll help me get over our

disappointment.

Yes.

Yes, I can see that.

And I would be all the more glad to see you when you return.

Perhaps you should make these visits a more regular thing. I think I shall.

My love, I've not been honest with you. When will you tell them that we're not

leaving London?

One piece of the secret cannot stay buried.

I hope the flowers were met with your approval.

Let us promise from now on you and I will never have secrets from each other.

Like it or not, you're a foresight. They're your blood, it's who you are.

Frances would never disgrace this family by granting you a divorce.