All language subtitles for Bequest to the Nation (1973) REMUX.eng

Oh, Minto, it's you.

I was looking for some
dull Admiralty official.

Yeah, and the guard of honour,

and your usual crowd.

Yes.

And you better have
a pretty good reason

for landing me like a
smuggler in this little hole.

We're off, Nelson.

Best respects, my lord.

Aye-aye.

Pack it on.

Stand by.

Give way together.

And you cannot fool crowds,
especially not English ones.

They'll find out
that I've landed,

head straight for London.

Aye, my lord.

You have changes of horses?

- Yep.
- Good.

We're due at the
Admiralty in the morning.

Now, why the secrecy?

Because if we'd landed
you among a crowd,

and the word had spread

that you were back in
England after two years

and no longer out there

keeping the French away,

we might have started to panic.

Well, I must say
you haven't the air

of a man who's dying.

Oh, by your own reports,

of every illness
known to medicine.

Well, I had to
exaggerate a little.

I have a fever of the blood.

You more than most
people know its name.

Aye, I know its name.

Everyone in Europe
knows its name,

but after a couple of years
absence from the lady,

I thought, well,
some of us thought-

- Every second of every minute

of that two years absence
from Emma Hamilton

has been a torment.

You could tell that
to the Admiralty.

I'll tell them myself.

I'm not wearing this
damn thing on shore.

And besides, Emma hates it.

How is it?

Bad.

Where would she be
waiting for me, in London?

No, she's at Merton,

preparing for your arrival

as befits the mistress
of the household.

A small detour from this
road will come to Merton.

It won't take long.

It will take two hours.

Well, two hours, is it?

And 12 hours more after that.

No, I've promised to deliver
you straight to the Admiralty,

and straight to the Admiralty
I shall deliver you.

Lord Nelson, it is my
present duty to extend to you

the Lords of the
Admiralty's firm in thanks,

and heartfelt congratulations

on your most recent operations.

After an unremitting
cruises of two long years

in the stormy seas off Toulon,

to have proceeded
without going into port

to Alexandria from
the West Indies,

back again to Gibraltar,

to have kept your ships afloat,

your rigging standing-

- Barely.

Yes, quite so.

You have protected England
for two long years,

and have saved the West
Indies by only a few days.

I think there was some more,

but I've seemed to have
misplaced the other sheet.

Which is just
as well, perhaps,

since my idiocy in
chasing Villeneuve

across the Atlantic and back

could have put Bonaparte
on the throne of England.

But it didn't, Lord Nelson,

all thanks to your name.

Did he know my name?

You must know that he did.

I like you.

They said I wouldn't, but I do.

Where is Villeneuve now?

At Ferrol.

Collingwood's latest dispatch

gives it that
Villeneuve's about to sail.

He won't do that.

Bonaparte is no
seaman, but he's not mad.

Villeneuve will stay in Ferrol.

And that is your
estimation, Lord Nelson?

It's the estimation of
a humble flag officer,

but I'll have a guinea on
it, if you're a betting man.

And how long do you think
he will stay at Ferrol?

Long enough to
give me a fair leave.

Lord Barham, I've come home
to beg you and their lordships

to give me some
months' rest from battle.

Did you say months?

Yes, I did.

There's a promise that
I've made a certain lady

from whom I've been wholly
separated for two years,

and who is happy
to have me home.

Yes, yes, I see.

Well, now that the immediate
danger of invasion is past,

you can of course
take some few weeks.

God knows you
deserve that, my lord.

And perhaps after that,
her ladyship may relent.

I doubt it, my Lord.

In a matter of being
separated from me,

her ladyship is not a
very relenting person.

Perhaps if I
wrote to her myself.

Remind me, would you Minto,
to write to Lady Nelson?

I think it was to
another ladyship

that Lord Nelson was referring.

Oh, yes.

I'm very sorry, my lord.

Nevertheless, I trust
Lady Nelson is well.

I haven't the faintest idea.

She now lives
in Bath, I believe,

where the waters no doubt will
help her various infirmities,

real and imagined.

Now, if we've
finished our business,

I'd like to take my leave.

By all means.

Can I have your promise that,

only if Villeneuve sails north,

will you call on my services
within the next few months?

You have that promise.

And you've
accepted my guinea bet

that anyway, he won't
come out of Ferrol?

Shall we make it five?

Done.

Lady Nelson, a
most present surprise.

I'd almost thought you'd
given up taking our orders.

Thank you, Mr. Long.

Very good, please, for
the Viscountess Nelson.

Yes, we're all mentioned.

Lord Nelson has invited all
the members of his family

to stay with him at Merton.

Among the residents of Bath,
so honoured are Mr. and Mrs.-

- George, don't
look to your right.

I wasn't looking to
my right, I was reading.

It's her.

It's Tomtit.

How dare she come to the
pamplum in the afternoon?

Well, it's free.

Oh, she saw that.

So did the whole pamplum.

Go on reading.

Ah, yes.

Who leave on their
joyous expedition

to London tomorrow morning.

Their young son,
George Matcham Jr.

Nephew to Lord Nelson,

who must surely count himself

the most fortunate
boy in England,

leaves next
Saturday to join them.

You smiled at Tomtit.

She smiled first.

I've told you and
told you about that.

God knows it's hard enough

that we should all
be living together

in the same small town.

But whenever you
meet her, George,

what you must do is to treat
her as if she didn't exist.

I hope you do consider
yourself the most fortunate boy

in all of England.

Oh yes, I do.

Will lady Hamilton
be at Clergy Street?

I don't know, dear.

Will he be at Clergy Street?

No.

You see, George, for him to
stay with her at Clergy Street

would hardly be proper.

But she stays at Merton.

Merton is your
uncle's residence.

Lady Hamilton stays
there as his guest.

Well, why can't he
stay at Clergy Street?

That's her guest.

Don't speak with
your mouth full, dear.

Sorry.

Well, why can't he?

And don't ask foolish
questions, either.

Father, can you tell me?

No, frankly, George, I can't.

Since they live openly
together at Merton-

- Oh, don't call it that.

What, openly or together?

Together.

George might get quite
the wrong impression.

Together implies something.

It implies together.

That's how they live.

I'll explain it all
to you later, George.

We must go now.

Yes, Mum.

Now, pass your exams tomorrow.

If not, the headmaster
might not let you come.

What would you do then, eh?

I'd kill him.

Now remember, George, to
be on your best behaviour

when you come to Merton.

You're not scared, are you?

Oh, no, not of him.

But I will be of her, I think.

Well, you needn't be.

She's the most
lovable soul alive.

Is she not, my dear?

Lovable is an accurate
enough description of a lady

who, in her day, has
been greatly loved.

And who is now undoubtedly
loved by our host.

Thank you.

It is much more than just love.

What can be
more than just love?

Oh, something
altogether higher,

nothing gross or physical.

Something, well, ethereal.

Ethereal?

Of the ether.

The air, spiritual, not
of the flesh at all.

Come along, dear,
or we'll be late.

Joseph.

Goodbye, George.

Goodbye.

Be a good boy.

Hello, Master George.

Hello, Emily.

You've grown.

Have I?

Mhm.

I'm awfully sorry, Emily,

but I'm not supposed
to speak to you.

Mother's ordered.

Well, I can't be
doing with that.

Come along, Master George.

Thank you for coming, George.

Please sit down.

I thank your ladyship,
but I would rather stand.

I won't insist,

but if you could call
me Aunt Frances,

as in the old days,

it might make our
talk less formal.

Yes, Aunt Frances.

You're growing fast, George.

When I saw you this afternoon,
I hardly recognised you.

But still, it has
been six years.

By the way, thank
you for smiling at me.

Well, I shouldn't have,
because my mother said I-

- Oh, I saw you
getting a tongue lashing

from your mother afterwards.

Yes, I am sorry about that.

But I have a little
present for you here,

to make up for it.

Six pounds?

Remember, I gave you
no Christmas present

these past six years.

Go on, take it.

What do you
want me to do for it?

When you come
back from Merton,

I should like you
to write me a letter,

telling me everything, every
smallest thing about my lord.

How he is, how he looks,

everything he says to you
that you can remember.

That's all.

That's not much, is it?

Isn't that a bit like spying?

I only want news
of my husband.

Is that so wicked?

And about Lady Hamilton?

No, no, no, this is
not about Lady Hamilton.

In fact, George, I forbid you

to write one word
about Lady Hamilton.

Good.

Now, I want to know especially,
how is his good eye?

Does he still get those
terrible headaches?

And is his arm less painful?

And the cough
that was so terrible.

He may not even talk to me,

because I've only seen
him twice in my life,

and that was when I was small.

Oh, he'll talk to you, George.

He loves young people,

and a kinder... a
gentler man never lived.

Of course, if you could let slip

that I should be overjoyed
to see him again.

Oh, not to talk, you understand.

It displeases him.

At least...

Oh dear, I forget how
I began this sentence.

It's a bad habit, George.

I mustn't keep you.

Goodbye, Aunt Frances.

Anything at all
about him, anything.

No matter how trivial
it may seem to you,

it won't seem so to me.

What did you do?

What does your
mother say I did?

She won't tell me.

But she says it was very bad.

Perhaps it was.

Well, what was it?

I made him choose.

Well, that's not bad.

It was bad for him.

Now, let's change the subject.

Tell me, why do they
now call me Tomtit?

- Don't you know?
- No.

It's the way you walk.

The way I walk?

Like the bird, you know.

How funny, I never thought...

Well, show me how I walk.

No.

Please go on.

Show me how they
imitate me in the family.

My old, rheumaticy legs.

Most birdlike, I see.

I never guessed it was my walk.

Is there, is
there anything you want?

Shall I call Emily?

Forgive me George, forget it.

Do you ever write to him?

The last time I wrote to him

was at Christmas four years ago.

He sent the letter
back to me marked,

"Opened by mistake by Lord
Nelson, but not read.”

But that's something
sort of dishonourable,

and that's not possible.

I'm sorry, but I just
don't believe that.

That opens the right
hand compartment

of the desk over there.

There's only one letter in it.

Take it out and
look at the cover.

Oh no, George, no, don't.

Oh, please.

Don't read the letter itself.

I'm sorry, but
I've just got to.

You see, he's my uncle, you see,

and he's Nelson.

Is this all?

There wasn't another
sheet with a postscript,

saying that Lady Hamilton's
a whore or something?

No, dear George.

How fond I could
have been of you,

had I only been allowed to.

No, there was no postscript
about Lady Hamilton.

And there would've
been a little point

in reminding him
of the profession

unkind people say
she once followed.

You're not trying
to get me to believe

that Lady Hamilton was, was-

- I don't think anyone says
Lady Hamilton is a whore now.

It would be good
to think she were.

Unhappily, I do not.

No, there was no other sheet.

Lady Hamilton must have
recognised your writing

and opened it.

Of course, that's it.

She opened it and read it,

and then told Lord Nelson
that it was a horrible letter,

which he mustn't read.

So then he sent it back to you.

That's how it must have been.

Don't you think?

Dear George,

I'm sure that's exactly
how it must have been.

Now put the letter back
in the compartment,

lock it, and give me the key.

Why don't I take it
down to give to him?

You'll certainly
do no such thing.

Well, I'd hate it if
anyone thought Uncle Horatio

was capable of such a cruel
and dishonourable thing

as to send back a
Christmas letter to a...

I really think I ought
to show it to him.

Now forget about it, George.

And just remember him as the
kind of man he really is,

as I do.

Goodbye, George.

It was good to see you again.

My respects, my lady.

And mine to you, sir.

- Good luck.
- Thank you.

Good morning.

Good morning.

I believe I'm expected.

I'm Master Matcham.

Oh, yes.

Come in, come in.

Lord Nelson out now,

but I tell Lady
Hamilton you here, eh?

You wait here.

Eccellenza.

Master Matcham downstairs.

You must dress.

Not yet, you silly cow.

I've only had three hours sleep.

So many?

Three's more
than he's giving you

every night since he come back.

How many times?

Oh, I can't remember.

There was one.

Seven, I think.

Another year and
he would've burst, pop.

Come, cognac?

I tell you, eccellenza,
one night he'll die of it.

He'll die of it?

What about me?

For you, eccellenza,

70 times seven
and still not die.

You are an impertinent cow,

and I don't know why
I bother to keep you.

Who'd you say was downstairs?

Younger boy, Master Matcham.

Young George Matcham?

Yes.

He's never set eyes upon
me in his life before,

and I'm in this state.

Oh, Christ.

There's a lot of
work to be done.

Lady Hamilton will
see you in her bed.

Come.

Her bed?

No, no.

She received many
gentlemen in her bed.

Many, much bigger gentlemen.

No, but you see, I, I, I...

My dearest little
George Matcham.

Come here, let
me give you a Kiss.

My, aren't you handsome?

There's even a touch
of my Nelson about you.

In five years, I'll make
him jealous of you.

Well, it's a joke, George.

Oh, all the world knows
there's only one Nelson for me,

and that's my Nelson.

Aye, Francesca?

At seven times a night.

You must forgive
Francesca, George,

she's from Naples,

where, as you know,

my late dear husband
William was our ambassador.

God rest his soul.

Oh, bugger it, all over the bed.

What was I saying?

I think it was
something about your maid.

Oh yes, Francesca.

She's a Neapolitan.

And her manners at times
are a trifle peasant-like.

This is a medicament,

prescribed by my doctors
for plaguing migraine.

It affects me in the
morning, from time to time.

What's in it?

A variety of ingredients.

All of the most efficacious,
I do assure you.

There, I feel better already.

I'm so glad.

Dear little George Matcham,

aren't you happy to be the
nephew of such a great man?

Yes, I am.

Great Jove himself,

immortal of all the immortals.

Hold me up, you silly cow.

You no eat nothing.

I bring you some perca pie, yes?

Oh, I don't know what my
stomach will hold this morning.

Might toy with a
piece of cold mutton.

To bit, eccellenza.

Eccellenza means
excellency, George,

which of course in
Naples is what I was.

And to the Queen of
Naples I was, guess what?

Carissima mia, beloved friend.

And so she was to me, George.

And so she was.

Do you know she would sometimes

do me the honour of asking
me to share her bed?

And the king, he did
me much honour, too.

Of course, not quite
in the same way.

Jesus.

It's a Neapolitan
phrase, George.

They make much
use of our Lord's name,

and of the blessed virgin, too.

Of course, to our ears it
may sound a little common,

but one soon gets used to it.

As an ambassadress, one has to.

Ooh, I think I must have
drunk my medicine too first.

Yes, who is it?

Is your
ladyship visible?

Minto.

Come in, come in.

Good morning, my dear.

Visible
to you at any time.

Are you holding a levee?

At least I've risen.

This is young George Matcham,
my Lord Nelson's nephew.

Oh, young Master
Matcham, your servant, sir.

And this, George,
is Lord Minto,

your uncle's dearest friend.

My lord.

My Nelson vows he loves Minto

most of all persons
in the world,

second only to me, aye, Minto?

A very poor second

for the competition
provided by your ladyship

is, to say the least, large.

Oh, you'd like me thin
as a wraith, aye, Minto?

A flag pole.

Perhaps you think my
Nelson would prefer me so,

that he could more
easily run up his flag?

Well, let me tell you.

His flag does quite
well enough as it is,

thank you very much.

Last night, it was nailed
to the mast at no surrender,

and the signals
all at close action.

Oh dear, little George.

Little George, would
you like to run down

to my morning
room while I dress?

Yes, my lady.

Don't call me my lady.

What shall I call you?

Aunt Emma, of course.

What else?

That is what I am
in the sight of God.

Yes, Aunt Emma.

Come here, give me a kiss.

Yes, Aunt Emma.

Ah, Little Georgie.

There.

Oh, leave all that.

Help me find something to wear

that won't make me look
like a curate's ass.

Oh, what a sweet boy.

I vow I love him already.

I know he loves me.

My bet, Lord Barham.

I still don't understand
what madness made the fellow

leave Ferrol for
Cadiz of all places.

Is it madness to
combine with the Spanish,

and make a battle
fleet far larger

than anything we
could bring against him?

Reinforce Collingwood at once,

with every seaworthy vessel
your lordships can dispose of.

Collingwood, my Lord?

You said Collingwood?

Yes.

You haven't relieved him
of his command, have you?

Oh, we propose to.

Lord Nelson, you are
here at our invitation,

to be offered the
supreme command yourself.

My lords, I'm deeply honoured.

What did he say?

He says he's deeply honoured.

I must nevertheless refuse,

as the First Lord
should've told you I must.

How so, my lord?

Because you made
me a solemn promise

that only if
Villeneuve sailed north

would you call on my services.

Well, that promise was given

before the present
situation was known.

It was nevertheless a promise.

And on account of it,

I gave the same
promise to a certain lady.

If your lordships have any
further business with me,

you'll find me at Merton,

at least for the next few weeks.

Oh, come on, Minto,
don't just sit there.

Lend a hand.

Pull for the shore, is it?

Right.

Where were you last night?

The court ball, I suppose.

Yes, yes.

I was surprised
not to see you there.

That's a poxy lie, you
knew we wouldn't be asked.

Oh, an oversight, surely.

An oversight, my ass.

They won't have us at any price.

I don't mind for myself.

I do mind for him.

Two years away, the
West Indies saved,

not so much as a shipped
biscuit at the palace.

It's all because of me.

Still, it'll take more than
a snub from those Hanovers

to separate us.

And it will take more

than all you meddling
politicians, too.

Meddling, my Lady?

You think I don't
know what goes on

in your Lords and Commons?

"How the devil can
we separate Nelson

from that Hamilton bitch?"

Well, it won't work.

Do you hear?

There's not one of you who
can separate us this time.

He has given me his
promise, and that is that.

I can't wear that thing.

It makes me look like an ageing
governess eight months gone.

Try the orange silk.

Well, what do you say?

Oh, I'm sure the orange
silk would go perfectly-

- Oh, rig the orange silk.

I am talking about the
conspiracy by the Admiralty

to send my Nelson
out to Cadiz again.

And don't try and tell me

that you and your
precious politicians

haven't had a hand in that.

Damn you, you all
try to separate us.

Not I, my Lady.

Why can none
of you understand?

England needs a
live, healthy Nelson,

not a Nelson broken and sick
and half-dead from longing.

That Hamilton bitch.

Perhaps I am.

But I'm the woman he wants
and who can make him happy.

Oh, Neapolitan ape,

the one with the
frills with less up here.

They all like a
bit of titty fill out.

That you have enemies in
certain circles, I know.

But never count me among them.

Oh, you disapprove, too.

I neither approve
or disapprove.

I accept.

Au revoir, Master Matcham,

I shall be seeing you at Merton?

Yes, my lord.

Good.

Master Matcham,

you have about
you a certain look.

Before you arrive at Merton,

you'd do well to remove it.

It will not be popular there.

What look, my lord?

It's a look of shock,
Master Matcham,

and is not uncommon among
those friends of Lord Nelson

who meet lady
Hamilton for the first time.

But remove it, sir, I beg you.

Your uncle will not like it.

Are you fond of Lady Hamilton?

You seem, Master Matcham,

to have inherited your uncle's
flare for surprise attacks.

I'm sorry.

No, don't be.

I always tell the truth,

except when I
need to tell a lie.

Yes.

Yes, I am fond of Emma Hamilton.

She's a very generous,
good-hearted lady.

Loyal, passionate, and kind.

You'd better have some wine.

You still have that look.

No, thank you.

But if you could,

but if you could only explain-

- Explain what?

Oh, it doesn't matter.

Well, I think it does matter,

to you and to some hundreds
of thousands in this land.

You want to know what your
uncle sees in Lady Hamilton

to love her so
passionately, is that it?

He sees that.

Oh, he can't.

He can, and he does.

Master Matcham, let
me just tell you this,

as adult to adolescent.

That question,

"What does one person
see in another person?"

Has been asked since
the beginning of time,

and will be asked
to the end of it.

And dear, young Master Matcham,

there is never,
never any answer.

But what about his honour?

Well, that's not a word
I'm accustomed to use,

as I never really
know what it means.

It would appear

that you've been seeing
your Aunt Frances in Bath.

How did you know?

Oh, when people start
talking about honour,

it usually means
they've done something

they're ashamed of themselves.

Have you been
seeing your late aunt?

She's not late.

She's alive and
that's the trouble.

Master Matcham,
you have the gift

for telling a profound truth

with a minimum of verbiage.

Therefore, and thank God for it,

you'll have no
future in politics.

Yes.

Your Aunt
Frances is still alive.

Tell me, when you saw
her, were there any tears?

She cried the way I've
never seen anyone cry before

in my whole life.

Not a grown up, that is.

She cried from deep,
deep down in herself.

It was terrible.

And I'll never forget
it as long as I live.

You must forget
it, Master Matcham,

for your own good
and everyone else's.

In fact, I urge you to
obliterate the incident

utterly from your touching,

but as yet undeveloped mind.

Forget it, Master Matcham.

I declare, look at that crowd!

Free Nelson!

Minto, you rat.

Don't desert me,
come and rescue me.

And be killed for my pains?

Anyway, since when did
Nelson want rescuing?

You are a cowardly,
treacherous speechmaker.

Close the door, John.

Have
you kept your promise?

Did you doubt me?

That poxy Admiralty,
I always doubt you.

Did you tell them you
wouldn't go out again?

Yes, my love.

And I've so displeased
their lordships

that perhaps I'll never
be asked to go out again.

Let it be never again.

Let it be.

Oh, you don't mean that.

I do.

I do.

I do.

I do.

Oh, there's little George.

It's George Matcham,
your nephew.

Come out of there.

Oh, George Matcham.

Well, I haven't seen
you for a long time.

Hello, uncle.

Hello, nephew.

Well, you've grown so much
I didn't recognise you.

Emma, pray
attend to your attire.

Oh, you're such
a prude, Nelson.

The people out there have seen
me stark naked in their day,

and they love it.

These crowds are a
confounded nuisance, George,

and I sometimes long to
walk in London unrecognised.

But what can I do?

Perhaps, Uncle Horatio,

if you didn't wear
all those, um,

stars and decorations-

He got you there, Nelson.

George is right.

Vanity is my traitor.

Oh no, I didn't,

I didn't mean that.

Yes, you did.

I may be vain in such matters,

but dammit, I'd like people
to know what I've done.

Yes.

Here comes Hardy.

Not as soul's recognising him.

He's not getting so much
as a pat on the back.

Your flag captain?

Yes.

Emma, I do think that your
state of undress is not-

- Oh, I know, I know.

Dressed or undressed, Hardy
thinks I'm the whore of Babylon.

All right, John.

It's Captain Hardy.

Hardy.

Welcome
home, your lordship.

This is my nephew,
George Matcham.

Captain Hardy,
my right hand man.

Master Matcham?

Come in here.

Wouldn't you rather be alone?

No.

You've come
from the Admiralty?

Yes.

Is the news true?

Yes.

Well, when does
the Victory sail?

I don't doubt, Captain,

that you'll get your orders

to sail the Victory
south in a few days

to join Admiral
Collingwood's command.

Yes, my lord.

Excuse me.

I have to go to her ladyship.

Forgive me, Master Matcham.

I've never cared
for French wine.

I prefer rum.

Wouldn't you know it?

There isn't any.

What kind of an
admiral's lady, is it,

that doesn't keep rum?

Nothing but foreign muck.

Oh, here's something.

Gin.

A whore's drink.

In the circumstances, quite
suitable, don't you think?

How long have you
been his flag captain?

Six years, on and off.

More on than off, thank God.

Now it appears to be off.

But you must know him as
well as anyone alive, then.

Oh yes, I suppose I do.

Well, let's say I
know the man at sea.

The man ashore, that
seems a different matter.

In your view, Captain Hardy,

is a man called great for what
he is, or for what he does?

I mean, uh, taking
Arthur, for instance-

- You mean take
your uncle, don't you?

Your uncle is great, both in
what he is and what he does.

How could he have
done what he has done

without being what he is?

You mean winning battles?

I mean far more
than winning battles.

Every schoolboy knows exactly

how the Nile and
Copenhagen were won.

But does every schoolboy
know what they were won with?

Surely we have better
ships than the French.

No sir, certainly not,

but they are better handled.

Yet what kind of men
are they handled by?

Four-fifths of them have
been pressed, kidnapped,

knocked on the head, and
thrown aboard a manor wall

to face a brutal and
degrading slavery,

which they must submit to

or bear their backs to
the cat of nine tails.

But at the Nile, the
seamen drank to Nelson.

Yes sir, to Nelson.

And that is my point.

I see.

He's made these
mutinous dogs love him.

They beg to serve in
any squadron he commands

and cry like women when
they hear he's wounded.

Could he have done that

if he hadn't been
great in what he is,

as well as in what he's done?

It's so difficult.

Perhaps I expect a perfect
hero to be a perfect saint.

Perhaps we all do.

Well, England has
no need of a saint

at this hour of her
history, Master Matcham.

But she has very
dire need of a hero.

Your health, sir.

You're not ready yet, my love?

Very nearly, my dearest.

You know I always want
to look my best for you,

and that takes time.

The carriage is at the door?

Are the servants in the hall?

Si.

Then tell them to open the
doors as a signal to the crowd.

Well?

You leave Cleopatra no shades.

Emma.

Oh, no more of that.

I'm too arranged.

They must be coming down.

Ah, Captain Hardy,

what honour you do to my house.

It is I who have that
honour, Lady Hamilton.

You see how popular
you have become?

I am hardly known
to them, my lady.

No, but you should be,

and no doubt one day will be.

All about my
Nelson will be known.

Now, you and little George
will go in the second carriage,

Lord Nelson and I
naturally in the first.

Pray leave a little
distance between us.

The crowd prefer it so.

Um, may I go and
watch, Aunt Emma?

Yes, of course, little George.

Don't she look a sight
for a widow in mourning?

Go find her, good doggy.

Follow your mistress.

Hooray for Nelson! Hurrah!

They laughed.

Did they?

Yeah, they laughed.

You must have heard,
they laughed at Nelson.

With Lady Hamilton.

Oh, ladies and gentlemen,

I'm happy to tell you that
her ladyship has consented

to give us one of her
little entertainments,

tonight after dinner.

Oh, one of your
attitudes, dearest Emma?

Which one?

Cleopatra mourning Antony.

Dear brother Nelson
has written some words

to go with
Shakespeare's version.

I have composed
the music myself.

It's all quite new.

So as you can well imagine,

I'll be as nervous
as a pregnant nun.

So perhaps if you'd
all be good enough

to muster in the drawing room

at about seven for dinner.

Muster?

You make it sound
like a bloody warship.

Oh, it is so good to be
here at Paradise Merton.

Our home for
eternity, aye, Nelson?

I was thinking of something
a little longer than eternity.

Oh, you should
have seen it last year

and the year before.

Why did I have to fall
in love with a sailor?

Well, at least not one
with a wife in every port.

Wait, together.

Heave.

Well, really,

the world's greatest
sailor, and what do you do?

Well, I could hardly
have wished for myself

how happy I should be.

Still, exactly which is
starboard and which is larboard?

Well, that depends on which
way the captain is facing.

Oh, you.

What hour exactly did
you order us to muster?

Seven.

Emma, if you could perhaps
tonight be closer to the time,

the last two hours.

I'm
glad that he's well.

Thank you, my lord.

Francesca!

Good evening.

Ah, Minto.

Oh, I don't believe you've
met Captain Blackwood.

Captain Blackwood is the
captain of the frigate Euryalus,

which sails tomorrow to
join Collingwood off Cadiz.

I wish you a
fair wind, Captain.

I suppose they'll make
Collingwood an earl

after he fights your battle.

Will you grudge him it?

Can make him ass licker
and ordinary to the king,

saving your cloth, Reverend,

so long as I could keep
my Nelson here with me.

Which I intend to do,

despite the underhand work
of some who call him friend.

I am so looking
forward, Lady Hamilton,

to seeing your C-C-Cleopatra.

It is my favourite part.

But of course.

Emma Hamilton would
have as her favourite

that lass unparalleled.

Thank you, Minto.

I will accept
unparalleled at any hour,

and after seven I'll
even accept lass.

Here's to my Antony.

His legs bestride oceans,

in whose livery wore
crowns and crownets.

In that piece of Shakespeare,

I think that her Ladyship of
Egypt exaggerated somewhat.

This Ladyship of England
exaggerates nothing.

When she looks upon her
great pillar of the world,

she sees great Jove himself.

Hey, little George.

It's a wonder she can
see anything at all.

I heard that, Captain Hardy.

This is my house.

And if I choose
to toast the guest

who brings such
honour to its roof

in what, to your puritan mind,

may seem a glass
too many of brandy,

I think that is my affair,
not yours, don't you?

I do, my lady, indeed.

It was only that my puritan mind

hadn't perhaps
quite grasped the fact

that this was your
ladyship's house.

Merton is our house, Hardy,

your house, and
everybody who visits it.

And it's certainly Emma's.

Most of all, it is Emma's.

Then if it is my house,

tell that bugger to get out
of it and never come back.

Captain Hardy only meant-

- I know what Captain Hardy
meant, and so does he.

He meant that I am not your
wife by virtue of Mother Church.

Well, a pox on Mother Church.

I am by everything that this
world holds just and honourable

the true and only
wife of this man here.

Emma, please stop.

To everyone who
comes to this house.

To my lord's family, huh?

To my lord's friends,
to my lord's servants.

In fact, to the
whole of England,

I, Emma Hamilton, am the
only wife of Lord Nelson.

Excepting, I would
suppose, to Lady Nelson.

Hardy, that was unforgivable.

I shall leave.

No.

Hardy, you will not
leave, I command it.

Tell him to get out of this
house now and never come back,

I command you.

You command me in most
things, Emma, but not in that.

Oh, indeed.

Then perhaps, it is I

who should leave
your lordship's house.

Francesca, send for
my carriage at once.

Dinner is served, my lady.

Emma, will you lead us in?

May I have the
honour, my dear?

I'd like you to sit here.

Oh, sit where you'd like.

Sit where you'd like.

Hardy, another
two ships there.

Right here, gentlemen,

is your battle of annihilation,
our two squadrons.

Isolate here and
here, and destroy.

That's the suggested plan
of battle, Blackwood,

that your frigate will carry

tomorrow to Admiral Collingwood.

- I'm indeed most-
- Yes, yes.

Nothing less than
total destruction.

We must have those
Frenchies in the lines

stranded there forever,

and Bonaparte staring
at the Dover Cliffs

in a high old imperial rage.

Bravo, great Nelson.

The Immortal himself has spoke.

The Immortal has spoke
only ordinary common sense.

You just sunk half
the French fleet.

Poor ole buggers.

Hardy, what do
you think of that?

It's far too risky.

Risky's the essence of
every battle I've ever fought.

Of course it is.

Risk is the essence of all
great battles won by my Nelson.

This victory, if it is won,

will not be won by
your Nelson, my lady.

I am not talking to
you, Captain Hardy.

Have you forgot?

I beg your ladyship's pardon.

I had thought that a
kind of peace between us

had been concluded
at the first course.

Never.

A truce perhaps, but no more.

Well, if you are going
to discuss Naval tactics

and such like things,

I shall find myself more
congenial company up there.

What are you standing up for?

Sit down.

So you think it's too
risky for Collingwood?

Too risky for any admiral
in the world, except one.

Does your lordship know
of any Naval commander

who would risk
losing his entire fleet

in a single afternoon?

By following a
revolutionary battle plan,

conceived by a genius

who has been induced to absent
himself from the action?

You mean seduced,
don't you, Captain Hardy?

Well, I don't give
a eunuch's ball,

saving your cloth, Reverend,

for what you and your fine
Naval friends think of me.

I know you would all like
to see me roasting in Hell,

every single one of you.

Not you, dear, I like you.

But let me tell you this.

Nelson's vow to me is
unbreakable, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

Hardy was not trying
to make me break it.

He was merely talking
about Naval matters.

Hardy, you haven't
drank your port.

I was waiting, my lord,
for the loyal toast.

Loyal what?

Emma?

Ladies and gentlemen.

I don't drink to the court
that insults you and me,

you know that, Nelson.

Seems that her ladyship

is going to conform
to the Naval custom

of drinking her
toast sitting down.

The King.

The King.

God bless him.

Don't give a fig for that
old lunatic at Windsor,

or his German bitch of a queen.

Here, little George, catch.

A shade too much
brandy for good bowling,

but I make a very
handsome cricketer,

aye, little George?

Emma, you will apologise

to Captain Hardy and
Captain Blackwood

for what you just said about
the King and the Queen.

Because they have
sworn a vow of loyalty

to his old lunacy?

Yes.

And vows of loyalty are such
sacred things, are they not?

Yes.

More sacred, I don't doubt,

than vows made to
certain persons in bed.

Perhaps you would be happier
in Tomtit's bed than mine.

Emma, you're making
a spectacle of yourself

in front of strangers.

There's nothing in the
world I hate more than that.

Bugger off.

Apologise to Captain Hardy
and to Captain Blackwood.

All right, then.

Captain Blackwood,

Captain Hardy,

I apologise.

You really are the
most enchanting creature.

Oh, you say the prettiest
things to me sometimes.

Did you say such
things to Tomtit?

You know the answer.

Yes, I do.

But I like to hear
it said, so say it.

Very well.

I dislike my wife
and I always have.

I'm sorry, Blackwood,

but sometimes the
truth must be spoken.

She's a cruel,
vindictive shrew,

obsessed with
hatred of my Nelson.

Nelson, tell them
about that letter

you had sent back to her marked,

"Opened in error, but not read."

Very well, then.

If you won't, I will.

Can you imagine what kind of
a letter it must have been

to have made my
gentle-hearted Nelson

send it back to its
writer marked so?

Did you read
this letter, my lady?

No.

So dreadful was it,

my Nelson would not even
give it to me to read.

And to think, that letter
was sent dated Christmas day.

No.

December the 18th.

What did he say?

He said it was dated
December the 18th.

Was it?

Yes.

Have you read
this filthy letter?

Yes.

And it wasn't filthy.

Not the letter I read, anyway.

How could...

Have you been seeing Tomtit?

I saw her once.

George, are you a traitor?

A traitor in our family,
here at Paradise Merton?

Come here, boy.

Why did you go and see her?

Because she asked me.

And she
showed you that letter?

She let me see the envelope
and what was marked on it.

She didn't want me to read
the letter itself, but I did.

Because I said you couldn't
possibly have known

what was written
on the envelope.

And why did you say that?

Because I thought that no man

could do such a cruel,
dishonourable thing to his wife,

least of all you.

So, as I thought your
honour was involved-

- Jesus.

Go on.

I've read the letter,

and I hoped to
read the sort of letter

that Lady Hamilton
has just spoken on.

But I didn't.

It wasn't like that at all.

It was a kind letter.

I don't remember all the words,

but there was something

about finding you a
comfortable, warm house.

Go to your room.

Uncle, Uncle.

Please tell me that
was not the letter

you sent back to your wife.

Go to your room at once.

Catty, take him to his room
and see that he's locked in.

Yes, Horatio.

Not to his room, out
of this house tonight.

Send him back to his friend,
the bitch woman of Bath.

I still give the
orders in this house,

and I expect them to be obeyed.

Take him to his
room and lock him in.

Yes, Horatio.

The rest of you,
please go to your beds.

You're not going out
in this, it's pouring.

By your leave, my lady.

My lady?

Are we back to that?

Nelson, come back.

Come here, come away.

Nelson!

Oh, Minto, what am I to do?

Do what he says.

Go to bed.

Leave him to cool
his temper in the rain.

And then when he comes
back from his drenching,

just apply the right arts.

The right arts?

When those arts fail,
the world will end.

True.

So they mustn't fail, must they?

They won't.

Minto, you knew me
when I first met him.

Was I quite such a
vulgar, drunken slut?

Oh, you won't answer that.

Yes, your ladyship
was always vulgar.

Well, being a blacksmith's
daughter shows.

Woman, you're
talking nonsense.

You think I couldn't
have turned myself

into a genteel English lady?

My God, who wants to
be like Catty Matcham?

What a death in life.

Nope, vulgar I always was,

vulgar I will remain by choice.

And now, we come to drunken.

How does that compare
with six years ago?

I think you drink more
now and get less drunk.

You don't miss much.

I drink from morning to night,

no longer for my enjoyment or
anyone else's, it would seem.

It's from fear.

Isn't that why
most people drink?

Fear of losing him?

Of course.

But my dear lady,
that will never happen.

You really believe that?

You think I still look
well enough, do I?

You look as desirable as
when you sat for Romney.

Oh, don't say that, my God.

I can eat flattery, but
when you mention Romney,

I know you're lying.

I did not say beautiful,
I said desirable.

By candlelight,
to a man half-blind.

By candlelight or daylight,

half-blind or with
both eyes clear,

Nelson will always see
you as Romney saw you,

as his divine lady.

And how do I see myself?

Answer me that.

I look at myself in the
morning and I think,

"He can't love that.

Not that.

It's absurd."

And I do love him.

I think you do.

Only think?

My God, I love him
more than I love life.

Oh, Minto, you go to him.

Oh, please.

He's thinking of
her and that's bad.

It's always bad.

You go to him.

As your ladyship commands.

Have you come to
plague me with questions?

No.

Did you know of that letter?

No.

I wonder how
many people he's told.

Does it matter?

May we please take some
shelter from the rain?

I'm not so used to huger
storms on the Bay of Biscay.

Does it matter, you ask?

Possibly not.

The world must be on her side.

A faithful and loving wife,

vilely cheated by her husband,

now living in
loneliness and despair

because that very villain
who cast her off so cruelly

has bribed his family and
intimidated his friends

to make them desert her, too.

A pitiful, misused lady,

flying her flag
with genteel dignity

in her lodgings in Bath,

while her besotted husband

rollicks away his honour
and his reputation

with the mother
of his bastard child.

That's how the
boy sees it, Minto.

Why should not the world see
it through his eyes, too?

The world, Horatio,
is not your nephew.

I'm not at all sure that
my nephew is not the world.

Young eyes usually
see the truth of things

through a distorting mirror,

but oh, so does
the world, I suppose.

I know what the world sees.

Six years ago in Naples,

I deserted a loyal
and loving wife

for the embraces of
a notorious charmer.

"He's not leaving his wife
for that woman," you said.

That Emma Hamilton, who
displayed herself naked

at 14 Vauxhall gardens.

Was sold by Greville to
Hamilton to repay a bad debt,

and was vetted by half the
nobility and gentry in England?

Do you think I didn't know
how loud the laughter was?

Did they laugh in the
House of Lords, Minto?

My lordship,
they laugh easily.

And if I'm to be
strangled for it,

I'd prefer a bit more
shelter than this.

Her ladyship's private signal.

Not yet.

You think I don't see
exactly what you see?

A vulgar, drunken
woman throwing a fit?

You think I don't
wince at the stories,

shudder at the language,

wretch at the smell
of brandy sometimes?

Do you think I'm so
stupid and insensitive

that I don't suffer a
thousand deaths every day

when I'm with Emma?

Forgive me, I must walk.

Go in if you want to.

I was jeered at in
Clergy Street today.

I think I can understand why.

No, you don't.

All you understand is
the tragedy of a love,

unsuitable to a national hero.

A man who wins
your victories for you.

But there's no tragedy,
Minto, I promise you.

I'm still content
with my lot and that.

You can call it an
obsession if you'd like,

but I love her.

And I want exactly who she is.

Goodnight, Minto,

dear friend.

Matcham?

I was commanded
to whip my son.

If I'm too cowardly, I
must command you to do it.

If it is not done,
she will know.

But you must not
hope to see her tonight.

The key to his room.

All right, Matcham.

You go to bed.

Well, am I to be
the first to talk?

I have nothing to say.

How was Lady Nelson?

Unhappy?

I'm sorry you should've seen it.

Did she talk much about me?

With love, I suppose.

With noble, resigned,
forgiving love.

What did she say?

She said you were the
kindest, gentlest soul alive.

How easy it is for her
to find the right words.

And she doesn't mean them?

Oh yes, of course
she means them.

She has no reason
to invent them.

And she can write them,
too, as well as speak them.

For instance, George,

Bath, the 18th of
December, 1801.

"My dearest husband."

It is some time since
I've written to you.

The silence which
you have imposed

is more than my
affection will allow.

In this instance,

I hope you will forgive
me for not obeying you.

One thing that I omitted
from my letter of July,

that I have now to offer you,

if your accommodation is
a comfortable, warm house.

Do, my dear husband,
let us live together.

I can never be happy until
this event takes place.

Let everything be
buried in oblivion.

It will pass away like a dream.

"I am, most sincerely and
affectionately, your wife."

You see, George, I did read it.

And sent it back?

Yes.

Aunt Frances must
have done something

really dreadful to you once.

She did.

What?

She wrote that letter.

Perhaps you'll
understand better one day.

No, I'll
never understand it.

Never.

It was a kind, loving letter.

Many cruel acts are done
out of love and kindness.

Perhaps most, George.

Oh, dear God.

Must I explain?

Yes, you must.

Is it so important to you?

The most important
thing on Earth.

Very well, I'll try.

But it won't save my honour
that you guard so carefully.

Oh, don't make fun of that.

I won't.

George, when you have
done wrong to someone,

an open wrong, a shameful wrong,

to be forgiven for
it is the very hell.

What do you do about an
enemy who won't hate you?

That answers every broadside

with a signal gently fluttering
from the mast that says,

"Whatever you do to me, I
shall always forgive you,

and I will go on
loving you forever?"

What have I left but to hate?

And that's the truth, George.

But why must she be an enemy?

Because she declared war.

How?

She made me choose.

But that's not war.

It was to me.

Anyway, don't think I resent
your alliance with her.

There's no alliance.

I must take your side.

Why?

Now you know what
a shameful fellow I am.

Because you're Nelson.

Well, here's your first lesson

in a long and difficult course.

Human love and human hate.

It's a complex study for anyone,

and I never went to school,

but did you
understand any of it?

No.

Well, you're in good company.

Now, if you'll oblige me
with the use of your pillow.

Could I ask you for
a little cooperation?

A yelp or two
might be of service.

Well, very well.

Now let this be a
lesson to you, sir,

that you'll never forget.

I'll have no more
treachery under this roof.

You have both insulted me

and gravely offended
Lady Hamilton.

Goodnight, George.

Goodnight, Uncle.

Perhaps one day
we'll both understand.

You didn't hurt him
too much, did you?

I don't know, but I
have certainly hurt him.

And yourself, too.

Oh my Nelson, I do
shame you sometimes.

The culprit most humbly
begs your forgiveness.

Emma, there's no one here.

Your Emma has most
grievously offended,

and does most
humbly submit herself

to your lordship's great will.

You know my will.

Whether it's great or
not is another matter,

but it's certainly unquenchable.

I was very bad, wasn't I?

It's forgotten.

Did I really call
Hardy a bugger?

You did.

Let's hope inaccurately.

Oh, I will behave
better, I promise.

I will, I will.

My heaven, you're soaking.

A glass of brandy.

Emma's sovereign
cure for all ills.

Oh, Nelson.

I was so afraid tonight
that I would lose you.

Never.

Not 'til death.

Who shall we drink to?

Let's drink

to Emma and her Nelson.

Ooh, you've spoiled
your pretty plan.

Yes.

What a shame.

I had intended keeping the
table laid exactly like this

to show visitors how Nelson
won his battle of Cadiz.

You mean how Collingwood
won Nelson's battle of Cadiz?

I said how Nelson won it.

Emma, I did not ask-

- No, but you were going to.

No, you're wrong.

I would never, never have asked.

Well, you'd have called me
my lady a little more often,

or perhaps discovered

you wanted to walk out of
the house alone in the rain

as the time of the
battle drew nearer.

I love my Nelson,
but I love all of him.

I don't want half of him,

with the better half
pining to be out at sea.

Has Hardy been
talking to you tonight?

That person, I
would not soil my lips.

Emma?

And it's not only
that feeling, Nelson.

I wouldn't want to be thought of

as the woman who
kept you from going out

when your country needed you.

It is my country, too, you know.

So you, too, think I'm needed?

There is only one
Nelson in the whole world,

and he is mine and mine alone.

Yes, yours alone.

Mine to keep and mine to give.

Promise me one thing.

This time, take care.

Don't leave your Emma
alone and deserted.

I'll do everything in my power

to see that you are
not alone and deserted.

And this I solemnly
vow, before God.

Well, you're very
good with vows,

and you do your
best to keep them.

Where will the Victory be?

Here, I suppose.

I think it's better to
leave the disposition to me.

Otherwise, you'll
have sunk half the fleet

before I've had time
to engage the enemy.

It will be another
victory, won't it?

Yes.

A big one?

A very big one.

When they see our masts
coming over the horizon,

they'll see what think
is our line of sail.

I'll hoist no signal
that betrays them.

It's also our line of battle,

except one.

A little signal to
amuse the fleet.

You'll excuse us, gentlemen,

but the order's been sounded
to prepare ship for action.

Well, gentlemen,
I think that's all.

You better rejoin your ships.

There is one
question, my lord.

At our conference last night,

you agreed, did you not,

that the Victory should not
be the first into battle?

Villeneuve flies his
flag on the Bucentaure.

According to the
rules of the search,

he's my prize, nobody else's.

I take it we're all
agreed on that?

The enemy is sighted, my Lord.

Good gentlemen, to business.

May God bless our endeavours.

Captain?

Yes, my lord.

For five hours, I've
watched you trying to pass me

in your damn Temeraire.

When we come to battle,

I'll thank you to keep
to your proper state.

Yes, my lord, what is that?

Behind me.

Fresh beef after battle, eh?

Heave, heave!

England expects that
every man will do his duty.

My great God whom I worship,

grant my country and for the
benefit of Europe in general

a great and glorious victory.

May no misconduct
in anyone tarnish it.

May humanity after victory

be the predominant feature
of the British fleet.

For myself individually,

I commit my life to
Him who made me,

and may His blessing
lie on my endeavours

to serve my country faithfully.

To Him, I resign myself
and the just cause,

which has been
entrusted to me to defend.

Amen, amen, amen.

Blackwood, why aren't
you aboard your ship?

I stayed, my lord, in
case you should, after all,

decide to fly your
flag in a frigate.

Fiddle.

I beg my pardon, my lord?

I said fiddle.

The frigate was for Collingwood.

You better get on board
yours and carry over.

My lord, will you
please reconsider?

The Victory, if she
is first into battle,

will have the weight of four
enemy battleships against her,

alone and unsupported.

You make it four
to you, I make it five.

Will you at least keep
your personal promise to me

and wear a plain coat?

I see you presume
to send for it.

May I assist your
lordship into it?

Don't you trust me, Hardy?

No, my lord.

Well, since you and Blackwood
are so conveniently here,

I'd like you to attest to my
signature on this document.

There's no necessity
for you to read it,

but in case we
are burnt or sunk,

I better give
you the gist of it.

Now this document clearly
leaves Lady Hamilton,

I'll read you the
last paragraph.

"I leave Emma Lady Hamilton,

therefore a legacy to
my king and country,

that they will give
her an ample provision

to maintain her rank in life."

Now, if you'd sign it just here.

Thank you, gentlemen.

All right.

Goodbye, Blackwood.

Goodbye, my lord.

And may I wish your
lordship a most complete

and crushing victory ever won.

Well, if it's to be, it'll
be no more than I've planned.

But God will decide all.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Stockings and shoes for
the battle. Mr. Pavel.

Easier for the surgeons.

Yes.

Do you see how
careless I've become?

I'll send a midshipman
to your cabin.

I think the time has
passed for changing clothes.

It's bad gunnery.

They'll be firing
at each other next.

It'll be some time
before we can open fire,

so shall we continue our walk?

When we come to it, louder
than the guns, Mr. McKillop.

I beg your lordship's pardon?

I said, "When we come to it,

louder than the
guns, Mr. McKillop."

Prepare all
decks for close action.

Report when ready.

Starboard
gun deck, ready.

Middle
gun deck, ready.

Upper gun deck ready, sir.

All guns ready, sir.

Sink me a ship, Master Gunner.

Aye-aye, sir.

Fire!

Fire!

- Justin?
- Lord.

Take a party
and man the tiller.

Make a signal to the fleet.

Engage the enemy more closely.

Aye-aye, my lord.

Warm work, Hardy.

They've done for
me at last, Hardy.

No, no.

Yes.

My backbone is shot through.

Best cover these up.

The man must know

that plain coat

might've been...

Cover him and take him below.

Back to the guns.

Look lively!

I'm done for, doctor.

You may save other lives.

Just send for Captain Hardy.

He's here, my lord.

Hardy.

How goes it, Hardy?

The Bucentaure
has surrendered.

We've captured Villeneuve?

Tell Collingwood
to treat him well.

He,

he has been a
most gallant enemy.

I would've enjoyed Villeneuve
as my guest at dinner tonight.

What of the other enemy ships?

I can't tell your lordship

exactly how many
prizes we've taken,

but I can answer for 15
of their larger ships.

I'd bargained 20.

No British ship struck or sunk?

No, my lord.

It is the greatest

and most complete
victory ever won at sea.

That's good, of course,
but I had bargained for 20.

Hardy.

Thank God I've done my duty,

for which more, much more
than you will ever know,

you should thank
my darling Emma.

It's difficult to see you.

Kiss me.

I've not ever been
too great a sinner.

Too great.

I have been entrusted
with dispatches,

which I have brought by the
fastest frigate in our fleet.

And so, my lady,

as I have not yet
reported to the Admiralty,

you are the first
person in England

to hear the news of this
great victory at Trafalgar.

It was what he sought, my lady,

the utter and complete
annihilation of the enemy fleet.

His plan worked,
as he knew it would.

It worked as well as he
could ever have wished.

Forgive me, my lady,
I have more to tell.

I know you have, Captain.

I know what other news you
are bearing to the Admiralty.

How?

Who has told you?

No one has told me,
for no one needed to.

I knew when he left I would
not see him again alive.

How else, if you are Nelson,
can you leave this life,

except at the moment of
your greatest triumph?

Did he suffer much pain?

Some, but not much.

Of that, I can
assure your ladyship.

I was with him at the end.

Did he speak of me?

He spoke of little else.

You're not inventing
that to be kind?

No, my lady.

I would never do that.

No, you would not.

Some other messenger
might, but not you.

I must not detain you, Captain,

from taking your great
news to the Admiralty.

It was kind of you to break
your journey at Merton.

Forgive me if I do not
see you to the door.

"To the right
honourable Viscountess Nelson."

Madam, it is with utmost concern

that in the midst of
victory at Trafalgar,

I have to inform your ladyship

of the death of your
illustrious partner,

Lord Viscount Nelson.

It is the death he wished for

and the less to be
regretted on that account.

But the public
loss is irretrievable.

I can only add that
events of this kind

"do not happen by chance.”

No, not by chance.

"I commend,
therefore, your ladyship,

to the protection
of almighty God.

And since..."

Lady Hamilton,
she says she will see you.

But please, oh
please, Lady Nelson,

it would be so kind if you go.

For a whole week,
she's not well.

Not see visitors.

Lady Nelson?

Lady Nelson.

Or is it countess?

I hear they've made him
an earl after his death.

Anyway, this is indeed
an unexpected pleasure.

Pray forgive the attire.

It was all I could find in
my wardrobe of mourning.

I never could abide black.

Lady Hamilton, I have
come for one purpose only,

to bring you some news

that you may, in your
grief, find of some comfort.

My grief?

What about yours?

It can hardly be as great.

Six years is a long enough time

to grow accustomed to a loss.

You never did lose him.

Never did quite lose him.

Didn't you know that?

I would ask your ladyship,
your countess-ship.

Oh, and I did so
want to be a countess.

I'm a snob, you see.

I always have been.

I would invite you
into my drawing room

had the creditors not already
taken out all the furniture,

but if your ladyship
should require refreshment-

- No, I thank you.

Well, you will
forgive this ladyship.

Oh, why don't they
stop ringing that bell?

They've been ringing
it day and night.

I suppose they
think my Nelson...

Oh, sorry, our
Nelson will hear it

as he rolls about in
that barrel of brandy

they're bringing him home in.

Brandy, you know, is the best
preservative for the dead.

But is it for the living?

Oh, I applaud your ladyship's
wit, but I am not living.

What is your comforting news?

My husband's will has arrived.

In it, of course,

you were left this house.

And contents.

It had better be.

There aren't any left anyway,

and the house is
buried in mortgages.

Yes, that is known.

But this document
should repair all,

much more than all.

How can that be?

He had nothing to leave
but his stars and medals.

This codicil, duly signed,
attested, and perfectly legal,

requests that your
king and country

should give you ample provision

to maintain your rank in life,

and leaves you,
Emma Lady Hamilton,

as a bequest to the nation.

A bequest to the nation?

Me?

I'll die on this.

Can you just see me, in
Westminster Hall, on a plin?

Or at Windsor
sitting on the throne

between the King and Queen,

with a plaque saying,
"Here sits Emma Hamilton,

the late Lord Nelson's whore."

My poor Nelson,
what a baby he was.

Did he really think there
would be the slightest chance?

I give you my word

that I personally will
do everything in my power

to see that my lord's
last wishes are met.

I believe you will.

I can't think why.

If it were me, I'd have
torn that thing up.

I don't think so.

Nothing I have heard about
you has indicated anything

but the most wide
and generous nature.

Wide and generous?

A whore, that's all.

A whore who stole your husband.

My husband left
my bed for yours.

He was bound to leave it
one day for somebody's.

I've understood that
for a long time now.

But why should we quarrel

because the bed
happened to be yours?

You must have
hated me, didn't you?

Yes, just as you hated me.

You're a good woman.

And the good has
triumphed at last.

Is there any triumph
for either of us?

What will happen to you?

Well, debtors' prisons

aren't that
uncomfortable these days.

There's always this.

I might even cheat my creditors.

It'd be a race anyway.

Good health.

Let me keep this.

Could always sell the signature.

I wonder, Lady Nelson, as
a matter of idle curiosity,

which of us will be
the better remembered

100 years from now?

You, I suppose.

I'll just be the figure of fun.

Well, the figure of fun
is going back to her bed.

Oh, why don't they
stop that bloody bell?

Can I, I help you?

No.

Thank you for coming down.

I mean that.

Oh, Jesus.

You know, he very nearly
didn't come to Naples at all.

Then I'd never have met him.

His first orders
were for Gibraltar.

It's a funny world, isn't it?

Stand by.