All language subtitles for The.Jewel.in.the.Crown.S01E04.Incidents.at.a.Wedding.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-MZABI_track3_[eng]

Sukhrea.

(barking)

Come on, here you go.

MRS. LAYTON:
Besides, there are all

the other arrangements
to be made.

SUSAN:
Well, I'm sorry, Mother,
but I really can't let

that sort of thing
stand in my way.

MRS. LAYTON:
And there's the question
of the journey, too.

But Uncle Arthur
will be there!

Sarah!
Have you heard the latest?

Tony Bishop's
contracted jaundice.

So now there's
no best man.

When did you hear?

Just now.

He's in the military wing
of Pankot General.

And he'll be there three weeks
at least, so it's a blow.

Of all Teddie's friends,
Tony Bishop strikes me

as the most sensible.

You can't change the date.

What are you going to do?

Unless you call it off.

SUSAN:
Mother!

Best men are two a penny.

Right, I'm going up
to Area Headquarters

to put a call through to Teddie.

Susan, you can't.

Why not?

It's not just personal,
it's a crisis.

Dicky Beauvais will
get through for me.

Shan't be long.

I am holding on!

MAN:
Hello, hold on, please.

I'm through to HQ Mirat.

I'm putting
you through now.

They're putting Teddie
on the line now.

Oh, thanks, Dicky.

That's fine.

(loudly):
Hello?

Hello.

Hello, Teddy, is that you?

Susan!

Quiet.

I say, what's going on?

Tony Bishop's ill.

Ill?

Yes, he's got jaundice
so there's a panic on.

Jaundice?

I say, that's rotten.

What are we going to do?

The thing is, Teddy, you'll
have to find someone else.

And PDQ, or Mother's going
to say the whole thing's off.

(softly):
Oh, Lord!

(loudly):
Are you there, Teddie?

Well, it's a bit of a tall
order, isn't it?

Finding a new best man.

Well, you'll have to think.

There must be someone who can
hold your hand in Tony's place.

Hold on a bit.

All right.

Matter of fact,
I think there is.

Easy as a wink, old thing.

I'll ask the fellow
I share quarters with.

He's a helpful
and willing sort of chap.

Just leave it all to me.

Listen, don't worry your pretty
little head about a thing.

Everything's in hand.

Well, we haven't got much time.

I know, I know.

Teddy!

TEDDY:
You mustn't worry.

(bell ringing)

CONDUCTOR:
Mirat Cantonment,
Mirat Cantonment!

Mirat Cantonment!

(steam hissing)

Hello, Mrs. Layton!

Teddie.

Things are looking up.

You're only 25 minutes
behind schedule.

Hello, Sarah.

Gosh, you look wonderful!

Darling.

Teddie, you haven't met

Susan's Aunt Fenny
and Uncle Arthur.

Major and Mrs. Grace,
Teddie Bingham.

How do you do?

How do you do?

I'm here to give the bride
away, they tell me.

(laughing)

How do you do, sir?

Well, I've got
breakfast organized.

I expect you're famished.

Don't worry about your things.

Noor Hussain's got
the luggage bando taped.

Well, if you'll follow me,
I'll steer you

in the general direction
of the station restaurant.

Cornflakes, porridge,
eggs and bacon

and all the trimmings--
everything's on.

Right.

(cutlery clattering)

After breakfast one
can face almost anything.

(chuckling)

We're lucky to be here,
you know.

If the wedding had
been one week later,

Arthur simply could not
have come-- no, thank you.

That's all right,
then, Mrs. Grace.

Saturday it is.

What about your
best man, Teddy?

All fixed.

I asked the chap
I share quarters with

and said he'd be glad to.

He'll be along after breakfast

and he'll be running you
over to the guesthouse.

His name's Merrick.

I hope you like him.

Merrick?

Doesn't ring a bell.
What is he?

A G3I.

Arthur, wasn't there
a Merrick

on General Rollings'
staff in Lahore in '31?

It could be
the same family.

ARTHUR:
It wasn't Merrick,
Fenny, it was Mayrick.

Married one of the Selby girls.

Well, then,
I don't know a Merrick.

Is he an emergency officer?

He got an immediate
commission, I gather.

He was in the Indian police.

FENNY:
That's unusual.

ARTHUR:
I should say.

What rank?

Captain.

My dear boy, I gathered that
when you said he was a G3I.

His rank in the police.

Oh, that.

Superintendent, I think.

In what district?

He did tell me...

Is there a place called
Sunder-something?

Sundernagar.

Oh, a backward area,
quite unimportant.

His first name's Ronald,
by the way.

He's checked things
over at the guesthouse.

Nawab's put it at the station
commander's disposal

so you'll have it
all to yourselves.

Shall we see the Nawab?

Why should you want
to see the Nawab?

Because there's
a scandal about him.

He fell in love with a white
woman in Monte Carlo.

Did he? Who told you that?

I did!

I thought everybody knew.

The woman was a Russian émigré.

It was quite a cause célèbre.

The Nawab was rescued by this
Russian count called Bronowsky.

And afterwards he brought
him back to India

as his prime minister.

If he's really a count,
I'll eat my hat.

The Nawab's been under
his thumb ever since.

You still haven't answered
my question, Teddie.

I know once Aunt Fenny
starts,

it's difficult to get
a word in edgewise.

I asked whether
we shall see the Nawab.

Well, Colonel
and Mrs. Hobhouse--

that's the station commander
and his wife-- say we ought

to invite him to the reception.

But it's not certain
he can come.

Because the reception's
at the Club?

Oh, he's allowed in
as a guest, you know.

No, because of Ramadan.

I mean he'll be fasting.

I should like to have
a Nawab at my wedding.

Especially one who used
to be wicked.

(everyone laughs)

TEDDIE:
Ah, there's Ronald now.

He might even
bring me a present.

A few spare ropes
of pearls.

Quite a good-looking man.

Not public school, of course.

You can always tell.

You get some peculiar
people in the police.

I don't expect
Captain Merrick's family

would bear close inspection.

But he's quite the little
gentleman, isn't he?

Very attentive over detail.

Did you hear him
tell Teddie the luggage

had already arrived
at the guesthouse?

So, he's been there.

How shall we go?

You and Susan
and Teddie in one taxi

and me and Arthur, Sarah, and
Captain Merrick in the other?

No, I'll go with Sarah
and Captain Merrick.

Then I'll feel less like
a mother-in-law.

(chuckling)

I hope Arthur isn't going to
keep us hanging about as usual.

Sukhrea.

The cars are over there.

Mother would like you
to come with us.

Teddie's taking the others.

Yes, I see.

Shall I lead the way?

Right, we'll follow on.

Happy?

Isn't that what the bride's
supposed to be?

It is the general idea, I mean.

Well, then I am.

Miss Layton?

I will drive in front,
Captain Merrick.

You go in with Mother.

Raj mahal, ko chale.

MERRICK:
I think I've covered all the
drill for the day itself.

The chaplain's name
is Fox, by the way,

and you'll be meeting
him later on.

Ah, we're coming
to the church now.

(speaking Hindi)

There'll be a small party
at the Club later tonight

to introduce you
to Colonel and Mrs. Hobhouse.

I think that's about all,
Mrs. Layton.

Except there's a young fellow
who's distantly related

to the Nawab whose
job it is to see

that you have
everything you want.

His name is Ahmed Kasim,
the son of Mohammed Ali Kasim,

the chief minister in
the provincial government

of 1937 to '39.

But isn't he locked up?

That's the point.

I mean, it's something
to remember when dealing

with young Kasim.

That he's not in the least
the type of Westernized Indian

who thinks he's a cut
above the rest.

Oh.

We promise to be well behaved.

MERRICK:
I beg your pardon,
Mrs. Layton, I put it clumsily.

The point I intended to make

was that Kasim's
an attractive fellow

but it's as well
to treat him cautiously.

It would be unnatural if
he didn't resent us a bit.

We probably shan't have
time to let it worry us.

No.

Ah, there's the palace now.

MRS. LAYTON:
Oh.

MERRICK:
You're looking in the wrong
direction, Miss Layton.

I'm not looking
in any direction.

There's so much glare.

That's the guesthouse.

The chap in the scarlet turban
is Abdur Rahman.

He's head bearer.

The little fellow holding
his topee is named Abraham,

a Christian.

And yes, there's Mr. Kasim.

So, Mrs. Layton drinks,
you say?

You mean in secret?

I don't know
about in secret,

but she starts first
and finishes last

and has two drinks
to anybody else's one.

I've also noticed her
behavior is erratic.

Her husband is a prisoner
of war in Germany, you say?

Mm-hmm.

And her sister,
this Mrs. Grace,

is she also erratic?

No, she is perfectly
predictable.

You can depend upon her
to be rude at any time.

Oh, dear boy!

What have you overheard
her saying about you?

It seems I'm quite
efficient for an Indian.

I'd also make
a good maitre d'hotel

if I didn't stink
so abominably of garlic.

I
doubt if Mrs. Grace would
know a good maitre d'hotel.

The English seldom do,
but she meant well.

And you do.

You must admit, Mildred, it's
easier if a man has parents.

All there seems to be
in Teddie's case

is a father
in the Muzzy Guides

who broke his neck hunting

and a mother who married
again and died in Mandalay.

Oh.

What is it, pet?

Have you any aspirins?

They're on the dressing table.

FENNY:
It's not for Susan,
is it?

You know, this is
a very awkward time for her.

I've just been praying...

No, Aunt Fenny,
it's not for Susan.

It's for me.

My headache.

Susan's lying down
and she's absolutely fine.

I've taken two.

Thanks.

Well.

"Well," what?

I suppose she finds
all this rather a strain.

The wedding, I mean.

After all, Teddie was quite keen
on her at one time, wasn't he?

I don't think Sarah
was ever keen on him.

And the girls,
are they more to your taste?

Tell me about
the younger sister,

the Miss Layton
who isn't to be married.

But she isn't
the younger.

Ah.

That is always interesting.

I imagine she isn't as pretty.

Or perhaps more serious minded?

She asks a lot of questions.

Oh, is she so very plain, then?

I find all white girls
unattractive.

They look only half finished.

But she is better-natured
than her sister.

Is that dangerous?

Why?

I understand it can be.

This kind of English person
invites confidence.

But it's a trap.

One wrong move, one hint of
familiarity on your part

and snap, it shuts.

Are you sure you mean
English, not white?

Am I dangerous?

You are the most
dangerous man in Mirat.

Everybody knows that.

One risks everything
just talking to you.

But I meant English, not white.

If we'd been subjugated
by the Russians,

I would have said Russian.

It is the position
of the English as rulers

that makes them dangerous.

FENNY:
The trouble is...

I can't exactly put
my finger on it.

The trouble is...

I don't think Sarah quite
believes in it.

Us and India
and what we're here for.

She questions everything.

And of course
men don't like that.

Well, you know
it's true.

And your father.

Have you kept your promise to me
and written to him in prison?

No.

Why not?

Same reason as always,
there isn't anything to say.

And every word would be read
by somebody else

before the letter reaches him.

It's very off-putting.

He's used to the idea I'm a
disappointing sort of son.

Unlike your brother?

Possibly.

It's because you're too fond of
him that you don't write to him.

You shouldn't be afraid of your
emotions, it's un-Indian.

All this Western
sophistication plus the cult

of nonviolence is utterly
unnatural to you young men.

The result is emasculation.

Well, what am I to do?

Raise an army
to release the prisoner

in the fort at Premanagar?

You could do worse.

The English would
respect you for it.

Can you stay to dinner?

No, I had a sudden invitation
from Professor Nair.

What's he up to?

Nothing he tells me about.

Perhaps you don't
listen hard enough.

Nawab Sahib expects
to be kept informed.

Is Nawab Sahib going
to the reception?

He will if I say so.

And I think I shall say so.

What are the arrangements
for tomorrow?

They're going shopping.

But in the morning
before breakfast,

Miss Layton wants to ride.

Which Miss Layton?

The inquisitive one,
Miss Sarah.

I'm expected to ride
with her, I think.

You should tell that
to Professor Nair.

Why?

He will be able to advise you
more satisfactorily than I

how to deport yourself
out of the vast fund

of his experience.

One more thing.

Try to find out
about his visitor.

Has he got a visitor, then?

Yes, two.

One a woman, not identified.

The other an elderly scholar,
by name Pandit Baba Sahib.

He comes from Mayapore and
is not unknown to us in Mirat.

Have you had enough whisky

to see you through an evening
of fruit juice?

He is writing a commentary
on the Bhagavad Gita.

Please, don't offer
to shake hands and don't sit

where your shadow
will fall on him.

It's all rather
nerve-racking.

Frankly, I came out
to relax.

Can I keep my socks on?

Oh, by all means--
the floor gets so dirty.

Come.

Meet Panditji.

Like me he's a great admirer
of your father.

This is our young visitor.

Son of our
illustrious MAK

and social secretary
to the Nawab Sahib.

(speaking Hindi)

Most people say I resemble my
mother rather than my father.

Why do you answer
in a foreign language?

Because I speak
Hindi rather badly.

Do you not feel shame

to speak always in the language
of your father's jailers?

No, I'm not ashamed.

(whispering):
Baitho.

I do not know your father
in person.

Only I am admiring him
from a distance.

It is a face, after all,
much known in newspapers.

Is this your first visit
to Mirat, Panditji?

Oh, no!

Panditji was at one time
living in Mirat,

but for the last few years

has been in Mayapore.

Yes, I see.

Then you were in Mayapore
during the riots?

What riots are you meaning?

The riots in August last year.

Since you are knowing English
somewhat better than I,

perhaps you will correct me.

But a riot, according
to English dictionary,

refers to violent,
unlawful actions.

I remember only
spontaneous demonstrations

of law-abiding people to protest

against unlawful imprisonment
of men without trial.

When you speak of riots, you are
speaking as the English speak.

You must speak like an Indian
and think like an Indian.

Since you were
in Mayapore, Panditji,

perhaps you knew
that English girl, Miss Manners?

You have some personal
interest in this matter?

No, but when
one mentions Mayapore

you automatically think
of Miss Manners and the rape.

It is not established
there was rape,

only there were arrests.

You mean the whole affair
was invented?

Simply I'm saying that to speak
of the rape of Miss Manners

is to speak of something that
is not legally established.

No case was brought
to court.

The men were imprisoned for
so-called political offenses

under Defense of India rules.

Did you know any of the men?

Yes, I knew.

They were boys
of some education.

Did you know the one who was
friendly with Miss Manners?

You are speaking of Hari Kumar?

I think that was
his name.

Once when he returned
from England,

his aunt sought my assistance
to teach him Hindi.

He also spoke properly
only English.

And you're sure
he was arrested for a crime

he had not committed?

Mr. Kasim, I think
you are not listening

to what I'm telling you.

No charge was made
against these boys.

Simply they were tortured
and defiled

in order to get them to confess.

Some were whipped and they
were forced to eat beef.

You are Muslim, I'm sorry,
but they were Hindus.

District superintendent
was interested only

in punishing these boys,
especially Kumar,

because of his association
with the white girl.

The district superintendent

was an evil man,
Mr. Kasim.

His cruelty and perversion
were known by his men,

which is how
we know of them.

It was one of his
own Muslim constables

who whispered the truth,

because he was ashamed
of what had been done.

And are they still
in prison?

All are in prison.

But not, I think, together.

Kumar alone is in the
Kandipat Jail in Ranpur.

Now, at last, his aunt
is permitted to write

and to send
some books and food.

I know these things because
I am in her confidence.

She was very fond of her English
nephew, as she called him.

You say nothing, my friend!

But I was listening
with a great deal of interest.

It is the sort of case
our young friend's father

would eagerly have
taken charge of

when he was practicing
the law.

But it is not only in the courts
that justice is done.

You look hungry, Mr. Kasim.

Let me not be keeping you
and Professor Nair

from your supper any longer.

I shall retire
before you finish,

so you must allow me
to say good night.

Good night, Panditji.

Good night.

Thank goodness!

We must eat at once.

A remarkable man, but one's
routines get so disrupted!

Do you mind vegetarian?

It's the smell
of the cooking.

One has to think
of everything.

Not at all.

There's something I wanted
to ask your advice about.

What's that?

I'm going riding tomorrow

with a young English girl,
Miss Layton.

Count Bronowsky told me
I should consult you

on how I should
deport myself.

Oh, my dear fellow,
that's quite simple.

One stays behind.

A few paces will
be sufficient.

One stays behind.

SARAH:
Mr. Kasim, it's funny.

I've never once
heard the muezzin

since I've been in Mirat.

And yet there are
all those minarets.

Why is it?

The wind's been in the
wrong direction, I expect.

They do call, then?

Oh yes, they call.

Five times a day?

Five times a day, yes.

Will the Eid-al-fitr
prayers be said

in the mosque
or outside?

Outside.

Why?

I read somewhere they're
supposed to be held

in the open air.

Why is that preferred?

Because of the crowds,
I expect.

The idea is
wholly practical.

But I'm no kind
of authority.

Perhaps the Imam
at the Abu-Q'rim Mosque

would have
a different explanation.

Do you think
we dare gallop?

If you'd like to.

Where to?

That ridge?

There's a nullah between.

I don't mind nullahs.

I enjoyed that.

Is Count Bronowsky
really a count?

Yes, I think so.

I suppose it's time
we started getting back.

Yes.

Mr. Kasim, do you come this way
when you ride alone?

Not very often.

I'm sorry,
I didn't hear you.

Sometimes.

Do you mean she
just sneaked off?

Oh, Fenny,
what is wrong with you?

My daughters don't
sneak off.

They go.

They don't have
to ask permission.

You're becoming impossible
to talk to sensibly.

I mean, you know
perfectly well why it's unwise

for Sarah to ride alone
with an Indian of that kind.

What is Mr. Kasim's kind,
Aunt Fenny?

I'm sorry, I didn't
know you were there.

I was saying
I thought it unwise

for you to ride alone
with Mr. Kasim.

Yes, I agree.

It was unwise.

We shan't go riding again.

What happened?

Nothing happened.

I meant it was unwise because
it made us both self-conscious.

It wasn't until
we actually set out

I realized it was the
first time I'd been alone

with an Indian
who wasn't a servant.

He only spoke
when spoken to

and kept almost exactly the
same number of paces behind

from start to finish.

He's a nice enough young man

and I understand his
brother is an officer.

But these days,
one really can't tell

what these young Indians
are up to,

let alone thinking.

Perhaps they find the same
difficulty with us.

Well, yes,
perhaps they do,

but we have other
responsibilities.

To establish
a relationship with Indians,

you can only afford
to be yourself

and let them like it or lump it.

(newsreel music playing)

NARRATOR:
The king honored
the Fourth Indian Division

when he inspected, in the inner
quadrangle of Buckingham Palace,

the contingent which is
now visiting this country.

Colonel Scott, who commands

these splendid warriors
from India,

presents them
to Their Majesties.

Talking to them, the king
and queen heard again

about some of the exploits
which won the division glory

in Libya and Tunisia.

Subedar Lalbahadur Thapa,
who had the ribbon

of the VC pinned
on his tunic by the king

during His Majesty's
visit to North Africa,

now receives the actual cross.

(continuous honking)

(tires screeching)

TEDDIE:
What the hell was that?!

Are you all right?

What the hell was it?

Sahib, it is a bomb?

This!

Did you see who
threw this stone?

I saw no one, Sahib.

There was a man on a cycle
in front of the car.

He went that way!

I'm sorry, Sahib,
it is not auspicious.

You're damned right
it isn't!

For God's sake, Ronnie,

is there any blood
on my uniform?

That'll sponge out.

Let me have
a look at that cut.

Ouch!

It may need a stitch.

May have glass in it.

There isn't time.

You can't get married
like a bleeding stuck pig!

Don't sit down on a splinter,
whatever you do.

You'll really be in trouble.

When we get to the church
I'll root out the chaplain

and use the phone
to get a doctor.

It'll mean putting the service
off for a few minutes.

Drive quickly
to the church!

The bloody bastard,
whoever it was.

Bugger him
and bugger the Nawab!

And bugger
this bloody limousine!

Why?

Well, it's obvious, isn't it?

A crest on the door
as big as your arse.

A bloody invitation
to some Bolshie

to heave a bloody great
rock through the window.

Has a substitute car been sent?

It was offered
but declined, Nawab Sahib.

The Captain Merrick
insists the damaged car

is perfectly serviceable.

Has the chief of police
been informed?

Ahmed has telephoned him,
Your Highness.

Will he think to contact
the military police

or will he rush about the city
making absurd arrests?

Who is this Captain Merrick?

The best man, Sahib.

The name seems
slightly familiar.

Some other context,
perhaps.

The ceremony and the
reception have been postponed

for half an hour,
he told me.

A stone, you say.

Please, sit.

I'm afraid I do not
understand this incident

of the stone, Dmitri.

No, it is a puzzle.

It is ten years since
a stone was thrown.

Do we understand correctly

that the culprit
wasn't apprehended?

That seems to be correct,
Nawab Sahib.

Then it is unlikely
he will be caught.

Oh, very unlikely.

One man isn't
usually responsible

for such an incident.

Several decide,

one acts.

What is important is
why the stone was thrown.

Or to put that another way,
Sahib... at what?

Or whom?

Very well, at whom, then.

Well, as Your Highness says,

it's ten years since
a stone was thrown.

A Muslim subject would not
throw one during Ramadan.

Your Highness's Hindu
subjects are content.

Ergo, the stone was
thrown not at the car,

which bore your crest,
but at the occupants.

Or one of them.

Who were?

The Captain Merrick
and Captain Bingham.

British officers.

Due to leave Mirat next week
for special training

prior to active service
in the field.

And our guests.

Beg pardon, Sahib.

Captain Bingham is not a guest.

He's the groom.

But that is worse!

It is a great mischief.

They have given me
a beautiful gift,

the poems of my kinsman Gafur.

And we reply with a stone?

What am I to say
when I meet them?

That they have
Mirat's hospitality

but not Mirat's protection?

(sighs)

I shall want a full report.

It will be as full as possible.

Your Highness can only
express your regret.

Your Highness might add
that you are astonished

and pained that such a thing
should happen in Mirat.

Even last August

there were no anti-British
demonstrations here.

The police have been active
in smelling out agitators

and sending them back
where they came from.

The incident of the stone this
morning is therefore a mystery.

If you are ready, Sahib,
I think we should go.

In the circumstances,
it might be a proper gesture

to be at the reception
early rather than late.

Very well.

(organ playing)

Hello, Mrs. Bingham.

I wanted to say it first.

I couldn't stop shaking.

Oh, darling Mummy, did it show?

I felt everybody could see.

No.

I was crying.

Bless the bride.

Still it sounds funny.

Susan Bingham.

Oh, you'll get used
to it.

Anyway, you'd better.

(everyone laughs)

Come and sign up.

Just right, Your Highness.

They will observe, Dmitri,
that I do not waste my riches

on my clothes.

But they may think
that you are the Nawab.

Oh, no, Sahib, they will see
that I am but Bronowsky.

A Wasir must dress
to do honor to the state,

but you are the state.

I'm sorry, sir,
I must ask you to wait.

His Highness the Nawab
cannot be kept waiting.

Special security, sir.

There's been
an ugly incident.

Yes, we know.

Tedious.

But Your Highness may consider
this serves some purpose.

The disrespect, Your Highness,

perhaps will cancel out
the incident of the stone.

Yes, that's true.

And I have remembered something

on the way here in the car--

the name Merrick
and what it means to me.

MERRICK:
I've been here
for about four weeks now.

Oh, yes?

Miss Layton, excuse me.

Have you seen
your mother and uncle?

Mother was here a few
minutes ago, why?

Well, I think
they'd better be found.

One of the MPs brought me this.

I'm afraid he's stopped
the Nawab from coming in.

Stopped him? Why?

I suppose because
he's an Indian.

I have to go and start
putting it right.

But if your mother
and uncle could be found

and asked to come,
I'd be grateful.

I think I can probably
find Major Grace

if you'd scout around
for your mother.

I'll try and keep him
happy in the anteroom.

MRS. HOBHOUSE:
Actually, we are delighted

with Wavell's appointment
as viceroy,

though Tom says that with Dickie
Mountbatten running SEAC,

a lot of the top
brass in Delhi...

Mother... sorry,
Mrs. Hobhouse.

The Nawab's arrived.

Oh, my dears,
down tools fly.

He's an old dear
but terribly hard going.

I do hope he'll think
the red carpet's for him.

I'm afraid he won't.

He's been refused entry.

Refused entry?

I don't understand.

My dear,
whatever do you mean?

The MPs stopped him
coming in.

Captain Merrick's gone
to find Uncle Arthur

and the secretary
wants us in the anteroom.

But he can't
have been refused entry.

Surely they were warned?

Now, hold on,
this is our job.

You stay here with
Sarah and my husband

and I will bring
him out to you.

If it really has happened,
then this is club

or station business
and not yours.

You stay here on the lawn.

Susan and Teddie are here.

We'll smooth his feathers
down and bring him out to you.

I think Mrs. Hobhouse
is right, Mother.

Come on.

What happens now?

This is turning out to be one
of the most jinx-ridden affairs

I've ever been mixed up with.

Where's Fenny?

Half that gang
on the terrace

are ordinary members of the club
just muscling in.

I warned the contractor wallah
he won't get a penny

over the quotation.

They're making a packet
as it is.

I say, cheer up, Mildred.

What?

You look half asleep.

I'd better warn
Susan and Teddie.

Aren't we going
to the anteroom?

Mrs. Hobhouse thought it
better if we stayed here

and she and Colonel Hobhouse
brought the Nawab out.

Good idea.

I say, isn't
that him now?

Must be.

Extraordinary.

Looks like some
downtrodden munshie.

Ah.

That's Count Bronowsky
with the eye patch.

He's supposed to have been blown
up by a bomb in St. Petersburg.

But unkind people say
he lost that eye

peeping through keyholes.

Mrs. Layton,
His Highness Nawab.

Sir Ahmed Ali Gafur
Kasim Bahadur.

How do you do?

I'm so glad you
were able to come.

Mrs. Layton wishes me
to tell you

how deeply she appreciates
your kindness

in making the arrangements

for herself and her family
at the guesthouse.

Yes.

Indeed.

Your Highness,
may I introduce you...

to the bride and groom?

My younger daughter, Susan,
now Mrs. Bingham.

(crowd cooing)

Thank you for coming
to my wedding.

MRS. LAYTON:
Edward Bingham.

TEDDIE:
How do you do, sir?

Your Highness, if I might
present Major Grace...

He was very pleased
with the book.

Oh, yes, Gafur.

I'm glad.

It was a bit of luck.

What was a bit of luck?

The poems of Gafur.

Just something we bought
for the Nawab.

Someone we met in Kashmir told
us Gafur was a kinsman of his.

We wouldn't have known
otherwise.

What did Gafur
write about?

Roses and moonlit gardens?

Jugs of wine?

That's Omar Khayyam.

No, it's just Persian.

I mean, they all
wrote like that.

Roses and deserts
and moonlit gardens pretty well

fit the bill,
from what I remember.

Did you have to learn
him as a boy?

"Read" would be more accurate.

I never learned anything

my teachers
thought important.

I know what you mean.

I never saw the importance
of anything I was taught.

I was the sort of child who asks
why the cat sat on the mat.

My teachers said I shouldn't
exhaust my curiosity

on the self-evident.

Then you're
in the right place.

In India,
nothing is self-evident.

Actually, that's something I
feel bound to disagree with.

I'd say things that are
self-evident are common

to all countries.

What's been going on?

Nothing's been going on,
Aunt Fenny.

The Nawab's arrived.

Well, I know that.

People are saying he had
difficulty getting in.

What a chapter of accident.

I've been putting out Susan's
going-away things.

I can't find the hat box.

It must still be
in the car.

I'll go and see.

No, I'm sure

Captain Merrick
won't mind.

The hat box.

We think it's still in the car,
the one Sarah and I came in.

Yes, I know where
it's parked, Mrs. Grace.

I'll check.

What shall I do
with the box?

Bring it to you
or take it to the annexe?

Well, if you bring it to me...

Well, whatever you think,
so long as it's found.

God knows what they'll do if
it's not there or been stolen.

There wasn't a servant
in sight in the annexe just now.

Anyone could have
walked in.

Come, I must meet the Nawab.

Count Bronowsky?

Mmm?

May I introduce
my sister, Mrs. Grace?

My dear Mrs. Grace,
delighted to meet you.

There you are,
Captain Merrick.

Performing another of the
onerous duties of best man?

It's just a hat box.

You're a man for detail,
I can see, like me.

Was it confetti?

You are married?

No.

Neither am I.

They say it's significant.

Tidy people are always trying
to wipe the slate clean.

I am sorry about the
incident this morning.

You were not hurt yourself?

No.

Apart from the scratch
on Captain Bingham's face,

the only damage was
to the Nawab's car.

Is there something you want,
Count Bronowsky?

Yes, the answer to a question.

But the question is impertinent.

I hesitate.

Please, don't.

Well, I have
been wondering

if you thought, perhaps, that
the stone was thrown at you.

Why should you wonder that?

Mrs. Grace has just told me you
were in the Indian police.

That's quite true.

I'll shoulder
the responsibility

if it helps you to explain
the damage to the Nawab's car.

My dear Captain Merrick,
you totally misunderstand

the reason for my
waylaying you like this.

Yes, well, I realized
it wasn't a chance meeting.

Quite so.

I came to look for you.

Surely...

you are the Merrick who was

district superintendent
of police in Mayapore

last August
at the time of the riots

and the rape of the English
girl, Daphne Manners?

How do you arrive
at that conclusion?

I deduce it.

My deduction is correct?

You are that officer?

I see no reason to deny it.

Good.

You see, my conversation
with Mrs. Grace led

to a small gaffe on my part.

She mentioned that you had
been DSP in Sundarnagar,

which I take now
to be the district

to which you were transferred
after the Mayapore affair, hm?

I was surprised.

I said, "But surely he was
the Merrick who was DSP

in Mayapore at the time
of the riots and the rape."

I'm afraid she was intrigued.

I thought it only fair
to have a word with you

before you returned.

It's a bit of a nuisance.

Can't be helped.

The notion came
to me so very recently.

On the way here in the car.

I remembered the report
I had from Mr. Kasim

on Thursday morning

and suddenly it rang a bell.

Tell me, does the name Pandit
Baba mean anything to you?

As a matter of fact, it does.

Please tell me what.

He's a so-called
venerable Hindu scholar

who incites his young
disciples to acts of violence

against Muslims, against us,
against anybody

that Pandit disapproves of,
and never gets caught himself.

In Mayapore, I couldn't
lay a finger on him.

Then you'll be
interested to know

that Pandit Baba is in Mirat.

And you believe he was behind
the incident this morning?

Oh, I think so, don't you?

Not that we shall
be able to prove it.

But he is in touch,
my spies believe,

with very many people
throughout India.

Aren't you exaggerating?

Am I?

Was the stone this morning
the first evidence you've had

that you have been
carefully tracked down

since leaving
Mayapore?

To Sundarnagar,
perhaps.

Even Mirat.

It may be as you say.

Doesn't bother me.

This is their last opportunity.

They can hardly follow
where I'm going.

Unless some sepoy
has been bribed

to put a bullet through my head.

I don't think
killing you is the idea.

As you say, Mirat is
their last opportunity.

The wedding ceremony
would have proved...

an excellent background
for something colorful,

but they have given
us only a stone.

Tell me, did it pass
through your mind, I wonder,

that acting as best man
might bring your persecutors

out into the open?

No, it was the
other way around.

I agreed to be best man
and then realized

I was probably the
worst possible choice.

All this is something
I'd prefer to forget.

I'm sorry you've
identified me.

Oh, my dear fellow, why?

If I correctly judged
Mrs. Grace's reactions

to my unintentional disclosure,
you are now an object

not only of interest
but of admiring curiosity.

Huh.

But we must go back.

I shall have to,
I'm afraid.

I'm sorry
to have kept you.

If you are ever in Mirat again,
I hope you will let me know.

We might have a longer chat.

Of course.

Ah.

We may find much in common.

Would you, for example,

describe that young man
over there as beautiful?

Yes, I think I...

Hmm?

Well, it doesn't matter.

Come, let's go in.

FENNY:
He was in love with her.

A woman from Mayapore told me
it was well known at the time.

Must have been awful for him
when she became infatuated

with one of those Indian boys.

This woman said
he looked positively ill

when Miss Manners was assaulted.

He can't have liked Count
Bronowsky remembering it.

Did you see his face when
he got back with the hat box?

Stop it, Aunt Fenny!

Stop it!

I'm trying, trying to pretend
that this is a nice day.

I'm trying to remember
I'm being married to Teddie!

My dear child...

We've got
15 minutes, Mummy!

Well, what have I done?

Nothing, Fenny.

It's what you were saying,
not doing.

Hardly a suitable subject
in the circumstances, was it?

Oh, dear, yes, I do see.

Oh, poor pet.

What are you
looking for, Sarah?

One of the buttons
came off.

I'll find it.

Milly, you pack the dress away
and let Sarah get on

with her own changing.

All the same, he must have been
nearly out of his mind

when those men got away with it.

I told Count Bronowsky
you'd been moored

next to that extraordinary
woman's houseboat

and heard that
revolting baby crying,

just like an Indian slum.

Aunt Fenny, I just don't
understand you!

Here it is!

Milly,
put it in your handbag.

What do you mean, Sarah,
you don't understand?

You're still talking
about that Manners business.

But Susan can't hear.

That's not
what I mean.

You're quite prepared
to gloat over all the details,

every last juicy bit.

Well, I was in that slum,
as you call it.

I spent a whole hour talking
to that extraordinary woman.

I even looked
at that revolting child.

Of course it wasn't a slum
and the baby wasn't revolting,

though I'd agree
about Lady Manners.

She isn't ordinary.

FENNY:
You went to see her?

What for?

To apologize for us.

Perhaps the rest
was just curiosity.

Like yours, Aunt Fenny.

Did you know
about this, Milly?

Yes, I knew.

Sarah told me afterwards.

And did you approve?

I told her to keep it
to herself.

Does it matter now?

May we just concentrate
on getting Susan safely

on the train?

Well, you astonish me,
really you do.

Apologize for us!

My dear child,
sometimes you worry me.

You worry us all very much.

Yes, I know.

I worry me, too.

Shall I put Susan's veil
in my case?

There'll be more room.