All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S08E12 (EN)

- synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -

Abolish the tyranny of corsetry.

I heard Mr. Macy was
sending a representative

all the way from New York City.

Miss Heloise told me a man is here

from Harrods in London, England!

I'll be sure to linger around his chair!

Are you nervous, Nicolette?

She's not nervous.

She likes prancing about in her
underclothes for wealthy men.

Ladies,

ladies we're about to begin.

I shouldn't need to impress upon you

the importance of today's events.

No mistakes. Be perfect.

Who let him in?

You should be ashamed of yourselves!

And now we have Charlotte, wearing

the House of Heloise's summer
model, in the traditional style.

For the lady who prefers
to maintain a classic shape,

Italian sateen and coutil,

with baby ribbon and lace trim.

Cordite-filled, with a genuine

padded whalebone busk.

Retail suggested at $1.75.

Nicolette sports our Princess hip corset.

Made in the new erect
form style, you'll notice

the shapely S-curve of her body.

Steam-molded to remove all stretch

from the fabric. Whalebone-filled,

fine French coutil and sateen trim.

Retail suggested

at $3.50.

And now for our pi�ce de resistance.

My new innovation.

A modern corset for a modern woman.

This corset is not for the
grande dames of society,

nor is it for the woman
of leisure this corset

is for today's woman, who
plays as hard as she works.

A corset as freeing as
the life ahead of her.

This new patented technology

is exclusive to me, and you
are the first to be seeing it.

Oh, dear... No need to panic, everyone.

Please just take your
seats. A tiny interruption.

We will resume immediately.
Please take your seats...

Sir, the victim was a Miss Isabelle Young.

She was standing right
here, modelling a corset

when this brick was
thrown through this window.

She was unfortunately struck
and died shortly thereafter.

George, where is the body?

Sir, it had been removed to
the dressing room. Miss Heloise

did not want to further
distress her guests.

Do we know who threw the brick?

No, sir, although there was
a group of women protestors,

apparently, dress reformers.

They scattered quickly. The lads are trying

- to track them down now.
- Hmm. And this Miss Heloise?

She is the owner of the establishment,
sir. Not entirely a pleasant woman.

Miss Heloise, Detective William Murdoch,

- Toronto Constabulary.
- Detective.

An accident such as this is hardly concern

for the constabulary. Nicolette,

take the Americans more
champagne. Be quick about it.

- Miss Heloise...
- Detective Murdoch.

I am trying to salvage
a very important event.

The future of my business
is riding on its success.

Your presence is making a terrible accident

- much worse.
- I see.

Do you have you any idea who
may have thrown the brick?

None at all. Charlotte, stop that man

from leaving. I will
sell Harrods this season

- if it kills us all.
- None of your guests will be leaving until I'm

good and finished, Miss Heloise,
so there is no need to worry.

Have you received any threats of late?

- No.
- But, Miss Heloise...

- The letter.
- Charlotte. Harrods!

What letter would that be, Miss Heloise?

_

An unfortunate accident, you say.

Cause of death appears to
be this wound to her head.

Yes. Thank you, , Dr. Grace.

Detective, I understand
this woman was modelling

- a corset at the time of death.
- That's correct.

- She isn't wearing one now.
- Oh...

Surely my guests may leave now.

These men represent Mr. Eaton,

Mr. Simpson, Mr. Macy and even Harrods.

They do not take kindly
to being kept prisoner.

Where is the corset this young lady
was wearing at the time of her death?

It is company property and the key piece

- of my current collection.
- It is evidence

in an investigation of a suspicious death.

Suspicious? A brick flew through
the window and hit her on the head.

- We all saw it.
- The corset, Miss Heloise.

Nicolette.

Thank you. Miss Green, is it?

Do you know who may have sent
Miss Heloise the threatening note?

- I haven't the faintest idea.
- Thank you.

Do you know of anyone who
may have wished her harm?

There is someone.

Thank you.

Gareth Clarke, Clarke and Co. Corsetry.

Did you write this note?

If I were to threaten Heloise,
I would do it to her face.

And I would never harm
a lovely young model.

You really should be looking
at those annoying protesters.

You believe them to be responsible?

Well, who else? "Corsets are

the devil's torture chamber"
and other such nonsense.

Shrewish things who can't attract a suitor

no matter how tightly they lace.

- Could you describe any of them?
- Unmemorable, except for the ringleader.

She was wearing a straw boater dyed black,

if you can believe such a thing.

Thank you, Mr. Clarke.

Poor thing.

This... this gash on her
head is that what killed her?

It's likely. But I try not
to draw a conclusion until

I have all the facts before me.

And how long until you have all the facts?

Some hours yet.

She had been tight-lacing
for quite some time.

You can feel her organs pushing
into her abdominal cavity.

Her lungs are compressed.

She was likely unable to eat very much.

And I believe at least two
of her ribs are cracked.

Corsets are wretched creations.

I don't wear one myself.

I couldn't imagine not wearing
a corset. I would feel so...

- Free?
- ... Exposed.

And improper, I work with men.

Dr. Grace.

- Miss Moss.
- Detective.

Detective, I wasn't expecting you so soon.

I can assure you that I am
focused on the case at hand.

I should leave you to your work. I'll have

the new pamphlets for
the election tomorrow.

A straw boater dyed black.

I wasn't trying to kill anyone.

I couldn't have known she was standing
there. I was making a statement.

- You did more than that.
- That poor dead girl on the table,

her body warped and twisted
into unnatural shapes,

- all for some farcical idea
- That isn't the point...

- ... of beauty. It's barbaric and outdated thinking.
- Miss Moss.

Why you threw the brick is immaterial.

At best, you will be charged
with destruction of property.

At worst, manslaughter.

Either way, you will be
spending a night in our cells.

Detective...

You must know I...

I didn't wish for anyone to die.

Did you write this note to Miss Heloise?

No.

Simon! What on earth happened to you?

- Nothing.
- Simon.

I saw a penny on the sidewalk

and I thought it was my lucky
day, but when I bent over

to pick it up, some other
kid socked me in the ribs.

- So you got into a fight.
- He hit me first!

It was my penny and he stole
it. What was I supposed to do?

You don't believe me.

- Well, who's this other boy?
- That's him.

Alright, you go on home.
I'll take care of it.

- I can take care of it now!
- Don't rise to it, son!

You're going home right now.

Father, may I have my penny back now?

I'll keep hold of it until
this matter is settled.

But it wasn't my fault! I
was reaching for it first.

I know, I know, I believe
you, Bobby. Higgins,

can you take Bobby and get him cleaned up.

Of course. Come on, Lad.

The blow from the brick
was not the cause of death.

- Then what was?
- Suffocation.

And not blunt force
trauma. Are you quite sure?

Petechial hemorrhaging.

I am quite sure.

Have you determined the
cause of suffocation?

Her ribs were cracked,

which isn't uncommon
amongst women who tight-lace.

There were no particulates
in the esophagus, meaning

nothing was held over
her mouth. And her airway

did not swell, nor was it blocked.

- Well, then how?
- Given she was standing upright

in a room full of people for
some time before she collapsed,

I simply have no idea.

One hint of discomfort
and this is coming off.

I remember when I was a girl our nanny

forcing Ruby and I to sleep in our corsets.

She tied our arms behind
our backs so we couldn't

- remove them in the night.
- That seems somewhat extreme.

A common practice, actually.

But in our case she was dismissed

and our mother let us run free

probably longer than she should have.

Well, that would explain a thing or two.

Its enormously comfortable.

Nothing horrid poking out anywhere.

I can breathe normally
yet I feel quite supported.

Ah! Remarkable!

It isn't forcing my posture in any way.

And it's oddly fetching.

It is that.

I ordered hot chocolate.

Good evening. Thank you.

Julia!

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe!

William this corset is your killer!

It's a clean break.

Keep it wrapped for six
weeks, then we'll see.

I feel so foolish.

Imagine, a corset squeezing me to death

and my only injury is a broken wrist.

Breathe.

I would never have imagined a corset

could suffocate a woman,
had I not felt it myself.

You're perfectly fine, apart
from the wrist, of course.

Thank you, Emily.

What we women put ourselves through!

Those dress reformers have a point.

When not taken to the extreme,
a corset does serve a purpose.

Yes, but why should we feel the need

to conceal supposed flaws?

Why can't women just wear what they
want and make their own choices?

Not all women are in a position to do so.

You and I still wear a corset every day.

Good morning ladies.

Julia, my goodness what happened to you?

- A corset injury.
- What can we do for you, Lillian?

I've brought the campaign
flyers, hot off the presses.

"Margaret Haile equal rights to all,

special privileges to none."

- What do you think?
- It's excellent.

But Lillian, I must request,
on behalf of the campaign,

that you refrain from
throwing any more bricks.

Julia, in my experience,

action invokes change.

And often that action must
be violent lest it be ignored.

And in my experience, change must
happen within social boundaries,

lest it be dismissed as radical.

Perhaps you should loosen
more than just your corset.

I'm free this afternoon.

I can go canvassing with Lillian.

Lovely.

And I promise to be
proper at least for today.

So it was the corset, then.

- I believe so, sir.
- How?

Corsets are stiff, molded
supports encased in fabric,

designed to force the body
into an artificial shape.

Right, yes.

This corset, however, exhibits

none of those standard traits.

For a married man you seem
know a great deal about corsets,

Murdoch.

What do these bits do, then?

I have no idea.

Sir.

The texts on garment making you requested.

Ah. Thank you, George.

Sir...

Do you think young Bobby
Brackenreid is on the up-and-up?

I have no reason to believe he isn't.

Lying and stealing, sir? That's
not normal for a boy his age.

George. Lying and stealing

is exactly normal for a boy his age.

Having the Inspector as a
father would have its own trials,

I imagine...

George, I believe I have
discovered how this corset

- killed Miss Young.
- Indeed? How, exactly?

You see these pieces of chain link.

When they are fitted together
at exactly this angle,

they create a ratchet

and they cannot be pulled apart.

In fact, the ratchets
will only tighten further.

Sir, what tightened it in the first place?

Well, I don't know yet.

I haven't discovered any
sort of triggering mechanism.

Is there a trigger of some sort?

Well, there must be, I
just haven't found it yet.

Of course I designed it. You're holding
my sketches, bearing my official seal.

- Is this all of them?
- Yes. Charlotte,

you've gained one eighth
of an inch on your waist.

- What have you been eating?
- Nothing, I swear.

None of these sketches show the inner layer

with the horizontal rows of metal keys.

If it's not in the sketches,
it's not in the garment.

Miss Heloise, I believe
you are failing to grasp

the seriousness of this situation.

You have admitted to designing a
corset that has killed a young woman.

Oh, I understand the
seriousness all too well.

I've not had one inquiry about
my products since the incident.

And corsets don't kill.

Well, this one did. It was
built for that very purpose.

Even if what you're saying
is true, why on earth

would I design such a corset when I was set

to model it myself?

- Who was aware of this?
- It was hardly a secret.

I always model in my fashion parades.

Well, Miss Heloise, if that is the case,

if you were set to model the corset

and this was public knowledge,

then you very well could
be the intended target.

So the person who built this corset

not only set out to destroy
my business but me as well?

So it would seem.

I find that hard to believe.

See, I am respected and beloved.

I can assure you no one
is trying to kill me.

Charlotte will see you out.

Don't mind her. She's just like that.

Which is why I think
there are plenty of people

who wouldn't cry over her grave.

Yourself included.

Why did Miss Heloise not model the corset?

She didn't model the corset

because she was too fat to fit into it.

- But did she not make it to measure?
- Miss Heloise

doesn't make anything. She draws
it and Miss Parks builds it.

- Miss Parks?
- Eunice Parks.

The head seamstress.

We use a factory in Buffalo
to produce the orders

as they come in, but
they have yet to receive

this season's patterns.

And what of the corsets from
the evening of the event?

I build the prototypes
for the fashion parades.

Well, then perhaps

you can tell me how these ratchets tighten?

I have no idea what that is.

By your own admission,
you made this corset.

I made a corset.

Similar to this one,

but this is not the corset that I made.

How can you be so sure?

This corset was sewn by a machine.

I don't use machines.

I personally sew each prototype by hand.

Oh... well, then,

where is the corset that you built?

The last I saw it was the
night of the fashion parade.

I haven't the slightest
idea where it is now.

Uh, sir, Jackson and Higgins are
on their way to the House of Heloise

to look for the prototype
of this killer corset.

- Good. What have you, George?
- Well sir, I found out there are several corseti�res

in Toronto and they
all use sewing machines.

- Well, we'll need to speak with them all.
- No need to, sir.

I also found out that one of
those corseti�res is Gareth Clarke.

George, just because Mr.
Clark's company uses machines

doesn't mean we should
rule out the rest of them.

No, sir. But I also learned that
seamstresses are terrible gossips.

And as it turns out, Mr. Clarke
and Miss Heloise were once involved.

She was one of his best
models until she left Clarke,

opened a corset house of her own, and
brought all his best clients with her.

Well then, bring in Mr. Clarke, George.

Sir, he's in your office.

- Did you collect any samples from his machines?
- All 30, sir.

- They're on my desk.
- Right.

Well then, compare those samples

- to this corset as soon as you can.
- Sir. Right away.

Oh, and George... good work.

Crabtree. This business
between Bobby and Simon

- needs dealing with.
- Sir, I couldn't agree more.

I understand that boys of a certain age,

it's not easy without a man to look up to.

"Without a man to look up... "
Sir, Bobby hit Simon from behind!

It was a dirty blow.

- My boy doesn't fight dirty.
- Sir, no offence, but how do you know?

Because, Crabtree, he's a Brackenreid.

We win by skill and with spunk.

Sir, with all due respect,
Bobby is no match for Simon.

- It's not a fair fight.
- We'll see about that.

I'll get the lads to build a boxing ring.

- A boxing ring?
- A fair fight. The winner takes the penny.

If that's what you want, I'm sure Simon will
be happy to settle this once and for all.

As will Bobby.

We're comparing sewing
samples from your machines

to the corset that killed Isabelle Young.

It's a waste of time. It's
not the machines that differ,

but the women operating
them. And there are legions

of seamstresses in the
city who use machines.

You and Miss Heloise have a history.

And that history gives you the
strongest motive for seeing her dead.

I'm afraid I'm not following you.

You must have known Miss
Heloise was planning to wear

the corset that night.

Heloise was supposed to wear the corset?

Of course. Her vanity knows no bounds.

Did you make that corset
in the hopes of killing

Miss Heloise? I did not.

If I was going to kill Heloise
why would I choose a corset?

As bad for my business as for hers.

I would have expected
the women of the Annex

to be a little more open
to a female candidate.

Middle-class women are more interested

in social climbing than social change.

Lillian, I know what you told Julia,

but why did you throw the brick?

Three years ago, I refused to marry

the eminently presentable suitor
my parents had chosen for me.

But I had to leave
university and find a job.

As a model, as it happened,
at the House of Heloise.

- I see.
- Miss Heloise treats her models like cattle,

and when I protested I was summarily fired.

- I'm sorry.
- I'm not.

If I hadn't been fired, I would have

never dedicated my life to worthy causes.

I would have never have taken off the
medieval torture device known as a corset

and I would have never met you.

Evans, Wesley. Good job, lads.

How are you getting on, Murdoch?

Sir. Very slowly.

Higgins and Jackson were unable to find the

original prototype at the House of Heloise.

You believe that whoever made
the lethal corset swapped it

for the prototype at the
last minute. Find the corset,

- find the killer.
- That was my hope,

but I fear it have been destroyed by now.

- Do you have a suspect in mind?
- Well, sir, now that we know

Miss Heloise was the intended target,

I believe the killer may have not been
present at the time of Miss Young's murder.

If he was there he would have
stopped Miss Young from wearing it.

Precisely.

Although if I wanted to kill
Miss Heloise with a corset

and Miss Young comes out wearing it,

I'd probably keep my mouth shut
or I'll be arrested for murder.

- That's an excellent point.
- Right. I'm gonna keep Bobby

away from Margaret's Yorkshire
pudding. Training starts at dawn.

You should leave, too.

Go do something fun this evening, Murdoch.

Oh, I plan to do exactly that, sir.

The simple act of breathing
may be all that was required

- to activate the mechanism.
- The bellows should be higher.

A corseted woman breathes in
the upper section of her lungs.

The diaphragm has no room to expand.

Hence the "heaving bosom"
of a woman in distress.

Oh... Oh, I see.

That should do it.

Right, then. Let's get started. Dr. Grace,

if I could trouble you to
take measurements of the waist

- and uh, bosom.
- And what should I do?

For heaven's sake. My wrist is
broken, it hasn't fallen off.

Hand me a measuring tape.

Alright then.

Approximately one eighth of
an inch lost in the waist,

and one sixteenth in the ribcage.

Isabelle Young wore the corset
for approximately one hour

before her death. This
could take some time.

An hour? I was barely wearing it 5 minutes

when I felt it tighten significantly.

- What happened in those five minutes?
- You laced me up.

You bent down to touch your toes.

Then you left the room

and all of a sudden I just
couldn't get my breath.

- The cocoa.
- Cocoa?

Room service delivered cocoa.

There was a knock at the door

and a sharp intake of breath...

... and that activated
the mechanism. Dr. Grace,

if I could trouble you for
another measurement, please.

Two full inches less in the waist,

and one and half in the ribcage.

The pressure being exerted is
certainly enough to break ribs.

- As happened to Isabelle Young.
- The knock startled me.

I gasped, and it triggered the mechanism.

Much like a brick being
thrown through a window would.

- I imagine so.
- The brick was the catalyst...

and Lillian Moss threw the brick.

But why? Lillian may have radical ideas,

but to plan such a
devious murder to protest

- the wearing of corsets...
- Detective...

- Dr. Grace?
- Lillian worked for Miss Heloise.

She was fired and has
resented her ever since.

- Emily!
- I only learned of it today.

Eliminate the corsets and
the devil who makes them

in one fell swoop.

Lillian Moss has made fools of us all.

_

Do we have your vote, Detective?

Do you see the similarities, Miss Moss?

The paper stock is identical.

You threw the brick through
Miss Heloise's window.

You wrote the threatening letter,

indicating premeditation, and you
were once in Miss Heloise's employ.

How did you...

I imagine Dr. Grace told you.

You had the ability

to design a corset to kill Miss Heloise.

Detective, I hold no
affection for Miss Heloise.

No one who modelled for her does.

But even if I could design such a corset,

I couldn't make it.

I can't sew to save my life.

I ruined three campaign
banners. Ask your wife.

What did you mean by this letter,

- "corsets kill?"
- They do kill... and maim.

The brick was only meant to disrupt.

You've already lied to me once, Miss Moss.

I swear.

What about any of the other models?

Would they be able to build this corset?

Charlotte Tennant was a seamstress
before she became a model.

Make it full-sized, Burns, full sized.

Sir, respectfully, shouldn't
it be a foot smaller?

- I mean, they're just boys.
- There's no sense in

molly-coddling them, Crabtree.
If they're going to fight

like men, they should
fight in a man-sized ring.

Henry... what's all this?

The boys are going to
have a proper fight sir.

- The boys...
- Simon is the clear favourite.

Bobby doesn't stand a chance.

Uh, don't tell the Inspector
I said that, though.

Sir. I'm going to release Miss Moss.

I no longer believe her to
be involved in the murder.

Also, I'll be returning to the
House of Heloise to question

- the employees further.
- Good, good.

Good...

You really believe me capable of murder?

- No, that's not...
- Even worse, that you could so easily

betray my confidence!

Lillian, I work with the police.
It was pertinent information.

Imagine me, thinking you... you could be...

- Be what?
- My secrets are mine to keep.

This is my job. You have to understand...
- I don't, actually.

Of course Miss Heloise is strict. And mean.

Except to Isabelle. She was the favourite.

She got invited to dinner
with clients and everything.

But I didn't mind. Isabelle was nice.

You started here as a seamstress.

Yes. I was truly terrible at sewing.

I was lucky Miss Heloise fired that
Lillian girl and needed a model right away.

- Did you use a sewing machine?
- Heavens, no.

I could never understand how to
work one of those contraptions.

What about any of the other models?

Nicolette Green only cares
about finding a husband.

Good luck to her she's
hardly a ray of sunshine.

She even works the odd time for Mr. Clarke.

And never mind the champagne

she stole from the fashion parade.

She also works for Mr. Clarke?

It's true I don't care for the way

Miss Heloise treats us,

but this is the best house
in the city, which means

I meet the best clients.

I would never jeopardize my position here.

Then why work for Mr. Clarke?

Beauty costs money, Detective.

And men like their women
beautiful, don't they?

Do you know of anyone that may

have wished Miss Heloise dead?

Mr. Clarke does like to watch her suffer.

I think he was trying
to poach our seamstress.

- Eunice Parks?
- I saw her leaving

Mr. Clarke's office two weeks ago.

Nicolette. Get dressed.

You are accompanying me to dinner
with the buyer from Harrods.

The Detective can see himself out.

That is if he isn't too busy

ogling young girls to solve a murder.

- Miss Heloise...
- I'm sorry,

but this has been a very trying time.

14 to 1?

I wouldn't bet on Bobby at 100 to 1.

25 cents on Simon. 14 to 1!

Can't say I'm surprised. Poor wee Bobby's

going to have his lunch served to him.

Higgins!

Did I just hear you say that the
odds are running against my son?

You know, sir, I'm not sure what

the lads are thinking.

I'm sure they're just
blinded by Simon's height.

Hey, Goliath's height didn't
mean anything to David, did it?

And who did you bet on?

I was just gonna...

- ... lay my money on Bobby.
- Were you now?

- How much?
- 10 cents?

I mean, 25 cents, sir.

- That is... one dollar?
- That sounds about right.

Should I put the kettle on, sir?

Good lad.

Please, come in.

I understand you attempted to
poach Miss Heloise's seamstress.

Miss Parks came to me unsolicited.

- Oh. Why was that?
- She wished

to sell me a design,
a very innovative one...

with the condition that I
hire her as head designer.

- And you declined.
- On the contrary.

I was thrilled. But when
I went to the patent office

to register the designs, I
found them already spoken for.

Miss Parks obviously stole
the designs from Heloise

and tried to pass them off as her own.

I couldn't very well hire her after that.

- I see. You've brought the drawings?
- Yes.

It's all worked out,

since that is the very corset
that killed that lovely model.

I couldn't weather a scandal like that.

Eunice Parks was the
designer of the corset.

Miss Heloise stole the
drawings from her. Henry!

- Sir?
- Arrest Eunice Parks

for the murder of Isabelle Young.

- She's the one?
- I believe so, Sir.

You "believe", so you have no proof, then.

Well, not as of yet. I'm
hoping to find the original

corset that Miss Parks sewed

and compare it to the one
that killed Isabelle Young.

- Hoping to prove that she sewed them both.
- Precisely.

I'll have George search her
boarding house as soon as possible.

Um, Crabtree is
otherwise... occupied today.

- Let me take care of it for you.
- Oh... thank you, sir.

Higgins!

I did not make the corset
that killed Isabelle.

Miss Heloise stole your design,

your revolutionary design,

and you were seeking revenge.

I created it under her roof. It
was her right to assume ownership.

Where is the original prototype?

- I cannot say.
- Constables are searching

your boarding house as we
speak. It will be found.

I assure you, it will not.

I imagine I am free to leave.

Yes, yes, for now.

Oh!

Miss Parks...

I'm afraid I'm going to have to
ask you to stay a little longer.

You were right. It was
hidden in the one place

- no man would think to look.
- Thank you, Julia.

I'm hoping to prove that she
sewed the killer corset as well.

Perhaps your eye for fashion
will see something that I can't.

Well, the corset Miss Parks was wearing

is of exceptional quality.

It was most certainly sewn by hand.

That would fit her story.

Whereas the stitching on the
corset that killed Miss Young

lacks the same artistry.

I'm sorry, William, but I see no indication

that they were sewn by the same hand.

Perhaps they weren't sewn
by the same hand at all.

I fail to see the point of this.

This aberration in the stitch is the same

as that of the corset that
suffocated Isabelle Young.

You interrupt the flow of the
pedal at the same interval.

Eunice Parks.

You built a murderous
device with intent to kill.

I am charging you with the
murder of Isabelle Young.

I never meant for Isabelle to die.

I didn't know she was wearing the corset.

I was sent out to buy more champagne.

I still don't know why Miss
Heloise wasn't modelling it.

It was custom-made for her.

It fit her like a glove
just the day before.

She didn't model the corset

because she was too fat to fit into it.

Good day, Miss Tennant.

I wonder...

Do you recall exactly why Miss Heloise

chose not to model that corset?

Of course I remember.

Nicolette tried her best
but she just couldn't squeeze

Miss Heloise into it. It was rather comic.

- And what happened then?
- I volunteered

to wear it but no, it had
to be Isabelle, as always.

- You volunteered?
- Of course.

- I was the only one who never got to wear it.
- How do you mean?

Nicolette tried it on the
day before the fashion parade,

but I never got my turn
because Miss Parks came in

all of a sudden and barked at
Nicolette to take it off right away.

I don't know what all the fuss was about.

Tighter, Charlotte. Tighter.

What are you doing? Take it off.

This is for Miss Heloise

to wear and she alone.

You knew the corset would
suffocate whomever was to wear it.

You offered to help Miss Heloise put it on,

pretended that it was too small
for her, knowing that Miss Young

would be selected to wear it in her place.

You sent Miss Parks out for more champagne,

ensuring that she wouldn't
be there to foil your plan.

You intended to trigger
the mechanism yourself,

but the brick beat you to it.

Detective, the last thing I would want

is to harm the reputation
of the House of Heloise.

No, just relieve Miss Young of her position

so that you could become top model.

Well, I can't deny that has happened.

You murdered an innocent young woman

for free dinners and
the company of gentlemen?

I didn't throw the brick, Detective.

I didn't make the corset. I
didn't even lace it on Isabelle.

No. You just manipulated events

to be sure that Miss Young would
be the one wearing the corset.

I played a prank on a vain woman.

I hardly think that to
be a hanging offence.

Bobby's smaller than Simon. That
needs to be addressed in the rules.

Then sir, what would you
have? Should Simon fight

the whole thing with one
arm tied behind his back?

- That's a start.
- Sir, you can't be serious.

Well, obviously not the whole fight, but the
first round. It's to be a fair fight, remember?

Sir, if that's is the way it's
going to be Simon won't fight.

- Isn't that right, Simon?
- Well, Bobby won't fight

if he's already lost before
he starts, will you, Bobby?

Crabtree... Lads.

Boys. Here's a penny each.

- Get yourselves an ice cream.
- Thank you.

- What do you say, Simon.
- Thanks.

Off ya go, lads.

Why don't you and I have a go, Crabtree.

Oh, sir, I couldn't.
I've got tennis elbow...

- You don't play tennis.
- Technically it was a football injury, sir, but...

You don't play football either.

Sir, I was hit with a hockey puck

in the elbow, as a
child. It's never fully...

It's a pity Eunice Parks

will never see her talents recognized.

And what will happen to Nicolette Green?

A jury will likely see a pretty young woman

and not the devil inside.

She may likely get away with it.

_

Oh... That's a pity.

That corset was quite innovative.

I would have bought one myself,

minus the murderous mechanism, of course.

I find it difficult to
feel sorry for Miss Heloise.

She really is a most unpleasant woman.

William. It's not an easy feat to
rise to the top of one's profession.

- But you did... with grace.
- Yes,

but not all women are
afforded the same advantages.

When a woman like Miss Heloise

fights her way up the ladder, she must
keep fighting lest she lose everything.

Oh, I don't think she's
lost quite everything.

Rumour has it that she and Mr.
Clarke have reignited their romance.

"Rumour has it"?

Seamstresses can be such gossips.

- Lillian...
- I can see how it looked.

I don't blame you for doubting me.

- I understand why you did what you did.
- I'm glad to hear it.

But you must understand, Emily, my
suffragist sisters are all I have.

I do understand.

It just... sometimes the way you behave...

You frighten me.

- I frighten you?
- You will do anything

- for the cause.
- Not just for the cause.

- I... I doubt I have your passion.
- You do.

- You lead by example.
- It doesn't feel like enough.

Then do more. Lead by action instead.

I... want to go corset-free.

Now, that I can help you with.

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