Original subtitles

Perhaps you might happen to know

what time Scotland Yard closes?

You see, I have to report...

..murder.

CAR CRASHES

She was talking of murder! Murders in her village.

She said he'd kill again, and now she's dead.

I live in Wychwood, so there's precious little

to challenge my powers of observation.

Until you arrived.

Think you'll find you're in the wrong place, sir.

His Lordship and the other guests'll be inside the house.

Lord Whitfield?

This is a new town, carrying my name!

Bridget, why are you marrying that man?

You keep these in stock?

Just a codeine linctus. Why? Want some?

HE CRIES OUT

Nooo!

My deepest condolences, Miss Rose.

Mrs Humbleby.

I wondered if we might speak?

Why don't you accompany us?

We're meeting Dr Thomas at the surgery to discuss the autopsy.

You see, since coming to Wychwood,

I've been struck by the number of...accidents.

And that Dr Thomas attended every victim.

Victim?

I gather you're very fond of Dr Thomas, Rose.

And he, he has feelings for you, too.

But your father never would have allowed the marriage.

And if he knew of the doctor's scientific interests...

Where did you find this?

He keeps them here. Not on display.

And who planted the idea of murder in your mind, Mr Fitzwilliam?

Miss Pinkerton.

You met Lavinia before she died?

Before she was murdered.

Mrs Humbleby, have you ever considered

that your husband's medication may have been tampered with?

Tampered with by whom?

Why should we believe a single word you say?

Rose? Fitzwilliam? What on earth is going on here?

Simply discussing the likelihood of you having poisoned my father.

Poisoned?! With what? Penicillin?

It couldn't have been the medication, Mr Fitzwilliam.

My husband's distrust of Dr Thomas meant

he never took the penicillin.

That's not all.

The things he said - none of them true.

Are they?

Rose, stop!

Are they here, then? Where?

Where are they?

Rose...

Rose, I don't think of you like...

This is your research, is it?

Worming your way into respectable women's homes

and perverting their minds?

Just because it wasn't the penicillin,

doesn't mean it wasn't murder.

If Lavinia felt something was amiss, you must keep looking.

Nothing, nothing suspicious, but, obviously,

obviously, we're taking

the vicar's sad death very seriously.

Nothing suspicious? One minute, he was playing tennis,

the next he was frothing at the mouth!

Poisoned!

I'm here to assure you everything is being properly dealt with.

Well, what about the rest? The rest of what?

Of us! Harry Carter?

Tommy Pierce? Were they "properly dealt with"?

Ruled as accidents by the Coroner.

The law's the law, Rivers, old chap.

And why no autopsy for our Amy?

A waste of public funds. The cause of death was plain.

Unless you'd...

Right, what's plain is that when one of us dies, it's an accident,

but when it's one of you, there's a proper investigation.

That's how you do the law around here, doctor, old chap.

I resent your insinuation, Rivers. I'll be speaking to Lord Whitfield.

I'm not insinuating, OK? I'm stating facts.

And you can tell Lord Whitfield what you like.

Tell him to open his moneybags and fix up Ashe Bottom for starters.

Cos his tenants are living in a slum! Hear, hear...

I spilt blood for this country!

And that makes me any man's equal.

This place? It's rotten to the core.

I owe you an apology, Miss Conway.

I expressed opinions that,

however strongly I might feel them... Quite.

Perhaps if we confine our strong feelings to exposing the murderer.

Of course.

Gordon and I are...

..we're throwing a party this afternoon.

Throwing a party?

An engagement party.

So you'd better hurry...

It wasn't the medication.

But who else would kill Reverend Humbleby?

Well, let's start at the beginning.

Miss Pinkerton said the murderer was...

"A respectable man with a point to make."

Yes, but who respects the doctor?

Not the Humblebys. No-one in Ashe Bottom.

Dr Thomas could be as disreputable as Bluebeard,

he'd still be a respectable man in Wychwood.

It's becoming quite clear to me how power works here.

And I don't have it...

Six dead...

Six.

Are you feeling all right?

You don't have to say anything.

But Dr Freud is ready for you now, should you care to explain...

Ever since I came to England, I keep having these dreams...

..that I'm lost in this forest.

And I'm losing something...

So this Ikenga, it's part of you?

As personal as my right hand.

It was given to me when I came of age.

It's your potential to succeed, the power to direct your own fate,

but it's part of something greater than you alone.

Fail to honour it, and you're lost.

To yourself.

To your people.

Lost to home.

Should I even be here, working for Whitehall,

leaving others to work for independence back home?

It seems you are a little lost in the forest,

Luke Obiako Fitzwilliam.

Welcome to my woods.

I've been here a while.

Maybe not happy ever after, but content, I thought.

And now I...

And now I don't know any more.

WOMAN SCREAMS

Help! Help!

You see what happens when you speak up?

Don't try and tell me that that fell off a tree

and bashed out his brains?

What, another accident?

Good chap. All right.

All dealt with.

Told him keep it under his hat.

No fuss.

I don't think he can do that, sir.

I think you'll find he'll do as he's told.

Especially if it's me that's doing the telling.

My path's always been smoothed by providence.

Right.

Lots to do before the party.

You're coming, Fitz?

Half of London will be there, won't they, Bridget?

The right half.

Miss Pinkerton was right.

That idiot constable ruled out murder

before he'd even seen Rivers's body.

Humbleby, now Rivers?

Bally fine chaps, both of 'em.

Speaking their minds. Speaking up for others...

And you say Pinky set you on the trail?

You've been investigating all along?

It became clear to me that these deaths were murders.

Did Pinky...

..have a theory about Lydia?

She wasn't entirely sure.

But you are.

I see.

Still.

You-you have no proof.

The car that hit and killed Miss Pinkerton got away so fast

I never even caught a glimpse.

Seems half the village was out of town on Derby Day.

If the car belongs to someone in Wychwood...

If I knew the registration...

Leave it with me.

Still know a few old-timers at Scotland Yard who owe me a favour.

These dreadful rumours.

A party.

Ill advised, perhaps?

So unlike Lord Whitfield.

His religion, his sense of what's right -

it's what first struck me about him all those years ago.

Oh...

SINISTER MUSIC

Miss Wayneflete, are you saying you knew Lord Whitfield as a boy?

As a young man, yes, before the war.

Before the big house and the Rolls-Royce.

All of it.

I should, I should take this in.

PIANO MUSIC PLAYS

INDISTINCT CHATTER

APPLAUSE

More bubbles over here! Some Dom Peri...

GLASSES CLINK

HE LAUGHS

DOOR SLAMS SHUT

DOOR SLAMS SHUT

Gordon likes to collect nice things.

Not really HIS nice things, though, are they?

Still, he seems to care more for them than he did his own chauffeur.

Look, I've been thinking about what Mrs Pierce said.

"See what comes from speaking out." Rivers.

Reverend Humbleby at dinner. Tommy.

All of them spoke out against respectable men.

Are you suggesting that Gordon...?

Huh...

Why? Do you think he...?

What I think is that Gordon is

as incapable of physically hurting another human being as I am.

And that calling him a murderer under his own roof is...

..is unforgivable.

Um, I didn't offer sympathies...for Rivers.

He seemed a good man.

He was.

You said he was murdered for speaking out?

Think I want to end up the same way? Talk costs lives.

Powerful men decide.

Women like us survive.

Back home, if some chief, judge or official abused his power,

women arrived in gangs.

They had ways to set him right.

There's a few men in Wychwood who could do with that kind of lesson.

JAZZ MUSICIANS PLAY

Rose! See?

I'm wearing the scarf you gave me...

Because I...

Rose! I insist you let me explain.

Mr Fitzwilliam.

We've saved you a seat. Do sit.

Do you mind, doctor? You're rather spoiling the view.

I heard about Rivers.

Coming so soon after Father - it's terrifying.

You know Rivers didn't see eye to eye with the doctor, either.

Rose, about what happened...

I may have misjudged you earlier, Mr Fitzwilliam.

Your suspicions.

Father always said the doctor wasn't fit to serve on the New Town board.

Said he was capable of doing anything to get what he wants...

Perhaps with the doctor occupied here,

now is the chance to find out what.

Doctor Thomas, he never truly deserved you.

# When marimba rhythms start to play

# Dance with me, make me sway

# Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

# Hold me close, sway me more

# Like a flower bending in the breeze

# Bend with me, sway with ease

# When we dance, you have a way with me

# Stay with me, sway with me... #

DOOR BANGS SHUT

I have a confession to make.

DOOR CREAKS OPEN

It's OK, I don't think anyone's there.

I need to confess...

I can't marry Gordon.

DOOR BANGS SHUT

Was that him?

What did you find?

It's the Whitfield New Town account!

But someone's forged Gordon's signature.

These are all made payable to Dr Thomas.

It's a small fortune!

That's embezzlement.

If Mrs Horton and Reverend Humbleby had caught him...

We should go back...

..and tell him what we know.

And face it...

..all.

So, the doctor had been stealing money from the New Town account,

perhaps the victims found out.

Mrs Horton and the Vicar might have, even Amy.

But the others, it just doesn't seem...

Bridget. Bridget, come here.

What's that?

Where was it?

In Rivers's blood.

Heel of a shoe.

Not many people do, you know, listen...

Right foot, I think.

The murderer has a point to make.

A sensible, respectable...

A respectable person...

Person.

A respectable person.

Miss Pinkerton never said a man!

A woman?

A woman's shoe.

You don't mean...

The murderer?

No, women don't kill like that, over and over and over!

It's right here, Bridget!

Right where Rivers died. Are you saying it's not connected?

Women lose gloves, heels, earrings every time we leave the house.

It's hardly proof of the ability to exterminate half a dozen souls!

Bridget, a respectable woman...

..who drives.

Who can drive, Bridget?

Well, me, obviously.

Yes...

Miss Wayneflete?

No.

No, and she can't afford a car.

Mrs Humbleby.

Rose...

What possible motive could any of them have?

INDISTINCT CHATTER

This must be a trial for you both.

So much to do after a bereavement.

Mother, I'm tired. Perhaps...

Where did you meet your husband, Mrs Humbleby?

In India.

He was stationed there - before independence, of course.

An army chaplain.

His commanding officers were dead set against our marriage.

But we were in love.

And so, to England.

To Wychwood.

Major Horton helped you both settle, I believe...

And Mrs Horton...

..must have been a good friend of your husband's, too.

The board must have thrown them together a great deal.

Shared interests.

Do you...drive, Mrs Humbleby?

Did you go with your husband to the Derby, or...?

Come, Rose.

I'm cold, suddenly.

My God, you didn't just accuse them, did you?

Bridget! I've been looking for you!

Gordon, I think that we should... Sh, sh.

Here's my Bridget!

Bridget...

..it's time for your surprise.

PARTY—GOERS GASP

Platinum set.

Flawless.

Just like you, Bridget.

God's rewards.

HE GROANS

Call an ambulance! Call the police!

But not that idiot, Reed.

A detective! Now!

It was a Rolls-Royce that killed Pinky.

That's all they told me.

Did you see the sores on his neck? Under the scarf?

It may be some kind of poison.

Bridget!

Do you think Lord Whitfield...?

Do you think he might be trying to frame you?

I told you. Gordon would never do anything to hurt me...

Or anyone.

MISS PINKERTON: The murderer has a point to make,

and will keep killing until it's made.

LORD WHITFIELD: This is a new town! Carrying...

..my name!

I think you'll find he'll do as he's told.

Especially if it's me that's doing the telling.

That drunk violently accosted me on my own estate!

Didn't he, Bridget?

That's the man.

Can I help you?

DS Bull.

Officer in charge of these investigations.

I've just come from the manor.

Pleased to make your acquaintance.

It's rather busy up there just now,

what with two deaths in one day and all.

I'm aware, sir. I was there.

And at the scene of the vicar's sad demise.

And - oh, yes - Amy Gibbs.

What about Tommy Pierce? And Harry Carter?

I wasn't even in England.

Accidents.

Coroner's ruled on them.

So you came here to research...

Augustus! Nelly! At ease.

What news of my wife, Detective?

My concern is this gentleman.

I'm confining him to his room...

House arrest? Under what statute?

As a subject of the Queen, he's as free to come and go as I.

Fitz! With me!

Sick to the back teeth of bully boys

in uniform bossing people around.

Or worse.

That's why Lydia and I got out of the whole dirty game.

Empire.

What's your next move, Fitz?

I need to get to the manor.

I've some questions for Lord Whitfield. I see.

Look sharp and finish this.

She's a bit sticky in second.

Fitzwilliam!

Breakfast?

Eggs and kidneys.

The Lord knows my heart is pure,

so the police hold no terrors for me.

No.

What worries me at times like this,

is folks getting too familiar...

..Fitz...

For instance, why are you here?

Is it more of your fairy-tale research?

Cos I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't researching Miss Conway.

Oh, huh...

..did I spoil your little plan?

Plan?

Believe me, sir, Wychwood has cured me of my plans.

I'm a man of God, Mr Fitzwilliam.

And God has made me

a "friends close, enemies closer" kind of chap.

I've always been an upright man.

And beholden to no-one, I stand alone!

God and my own hard work did not raise me

from Ashe Bottom to be cast down by someone like you.

Or Rivers.

Ashe Bottom.

Your people, sir. Your home.

That must mean something.

Ashe Bottom made you the man you are.

I made myself!

Me and God!

I put my faith in providence, not, not people.

I-I, I know what they say about me, those envious dust grovellers.

What, what Rivers said at the meeting.

And look what happened to him.

And what did happen to him, sir?

Just as the patriarchs prospered, their enemies smitten,

he was struck down by divine wrath.

Tell me, Fitz, do you recall how the bears devoured the children

who mocked the prophet Elisha?

The children? Yes. I recall.

Well, Elisha was a great man.

The Lord wouldn't suffer anyone to mock him and live.

Oh, no.

Or mock you? Like Tommy Pierce.

In my own home!

You know, after Carter abused me and died,

or when Mrs Horton - vile woman -

thwarted me at the board, I couldn't be sure.

But after Tommy...

..and then Amy, sassing me back...

..there was no denying it.

I've done right by my Creator

and my Creator has done right by me.

Simply put, my enemies are always exterminated.

Like Reverend Humbleby?

Exactly! You heard how he insulted me.

He refused to see -

I stand for righteousness and God stands with me.

So, you could say, you know who's going to die...

It's out of my control.

I'm just giving you a friendly warning.

Anyone who crosses me...

..even someone I'm fond of, like Bridget...

Oh!

What a find for my collection! Well done, Miss Wayneflete.

Now, there is a woman I can truly respect.

Capable and a lady.

Rare.

You know, it's hard to imagine now, but she was...

..she was handsome in her day. Independent, clever.

She was off to Cambridge, you know?

I do sometimes wonder what she...

..what she, um, thinks of me now,

since we, um...

Her admiration is very clear, my lord.

Just one last thing, how exactly is this divine justice accomplished?

Well...

..that's up to God...

..isn't it?

Bridget...

What was that? Exterminated?

And all that about Miss Wayneflete?

What does he mean?

Perhaps if I ask her to explain.

He tried to frame you, Bridget,

he put those shoes in the boot of the car

and now he's ready to kill you!

Kill? Gordon?

It just doesn't seem...

He admitted every single death was divine justice for...insulting him.

A respectable person.

A point to make.

A Rolls in London on Derby Day!

I have to get you out of here!

DS Bull is never going to denounce the most powerful man in Wychwood.

He wants to arrest me.

Scotland Yard, like Miss Pinkerton said.

Catch the London Express and...

Scotland Yard might have believed Miss Pinkerton,

but an African man?

"Invading respectable homes"?

It takes power to destroy power, Bridget.

And we have none.

I've got an idea.

I know what to do.

And I know who can do it.

Right, leave this to me.

Ladies...

..we need your help.

I thought I'd made myself clear, Fitzwilliam.

Yes, my lord.

Hmm.

Just, um, just one more thing...

..a religious matter, actually...

HOOVER HUMS

I wanted to know...

..Elisha and the bear...

..which, which Book is that...?

Kings.

And it, it was two bears.

Two? Mm.

And how many boys did they devour?

42.

I'm no prophet.

Tommy Pierce's death was enough for me.

Sorry, sir, I didn't quite catch that...

I said Tommy's death satisfied me!

But then, there was Rivers, the upstart.

And Carter.

That wanton Amy with the red hair...

You murdered our Amy!

Stop it! Stop it!

Stop this, or I will... What, what?

Kill us? You murdering sod!

DS Bull, you're right on time.

Arrest this man, he's confessed to six murders before these witnesses.

I wouldn't release him if I were you.

What? Oh... All right.

Gah!

He's a homicidal maniac.

Did you put these madwomen up to this?

A Rolls-Royce knocked down Miss Lavinia Pinkerton on Derby Day.

Call Scotland Yard, ask them for the registration.

Do it!

I hope you don't mind...

..if I ask you a rather personal question.

I'll answer as honestly as I can.

I've been wondering,

your friendship with Gordon...

..who ended it? And why?

I had a canary.

He asked me if I loved it more than him.

I...

He wrung its neck.

But it was the look on his face...

I see...

DS BULL: FAS 922.

Isn't that...?

Um, that...

That's the reg of my Rolls!

Apparently, a witness reported it at the scene.

No-one followed it up.

Major Horton...

Fitz? So, it was him?

He did it?

Hold on, hold on, hold on!

Did you know all along that Gordon was the murderer?

I'd suspected it.

But he's a lord. Who would believe me?

"With the rich and mighty, all we have is patience."

Lavinia was the only one who knew and see where that got her.

A letter from Miss Conway, sir.

Bridget didn't write this.

Where is it?

Lord Whitfield, where's the knife?

Um, Miss Wayneflete took it home for a clean-up.

Here - real Lapsang Souchong.

What if the police don't arrest him?

He'll come for you next. He's quite mad.

Broadmoor and straitjacket mad, no?

CAT MEOWS

Oh...

Algernon's ear really is quite gruesome.

Do they not do penicillin for cats?

Oh, blast! Oh...

Here.

That should do it.

Lord Whitfield, you said Miss Wayneflete was a woman

you can truly respect.

But you wondered what she thought of you since you...

Since you what?

Go on, Gordy.

Tell 'em what you did.

You see Gordon was employed by Miss Wayneflete's father,

here at the manor.

A walk before supper to wake us up.

Oppressively warm, isn't it?

ECHOING: # Why do you walk through the fields in gloves?

# Oh, lean white woman who nobody loves... #

What's that dear? Sleepy?

Lapsang has that effect on some people.

I'm not a cliche, you know?

A woman scorned.

Jealous of you and Gordon.

I was headed for Cambridge.

A scholarship.

I daren't tell my family.

All I wanted was independence!

She was a friend and she trusted me,

so she told me her secret.

She'd run away to Cambridge.

But...

..her father said that if I didn't tell him

where she had gone, he was going to sack us all.

He was going to throw us off the estate, so...

..I had no choice.

I told him.

MISS WAYNEFLETE: I was unpacking my books when my father came for me.

Gordon had betrayed me, you see?

Securing himself a step up the ladder.

But for me...

..that was the end of it.

They just, they, they locked her up like a prisoner in a cage.

Broke her little heart.

Crushed it.

Just like she crushed that...

..that little bird with her hands.

Gordon Whitfield, bootmaker's son,

made his fortune, bought Ashe Manor.

My home.

He took my beautiful life,

turned me into a pathetic nothing.

But I never showed my feelings.

Well, it's how we girls were raised, isn't it, Bridget?

It's in our breeding.

Show nothing.

No matter what.

But I needed him to suffer for it.

And that's when it came to me.

I'd make him the murderer.

Kill anyone who crossed him

so that he would be the one accused...

..humiliated, locked up.

He'd be punished for my crimes.

Extraordinary.

Easy.

Miss Wayneflete! Fitz...

She has Bridget!

So here we are.

Gordon will be joining us soon.

THEY GRUNT

Nothing!

All my life, I was nothing!

Bridget!

SHE GASPS

Bridget.

POLICE WHISTLE BLOWS

Oh, I see.

I suppose this is where you tell me how you always knew it was me?

For your vanity or mine.

But I didn't.

I thought it was Lord Whitfield, just like you wanted.

I knew Gordon would tell everyone the deaths were providence

smoothing his path.

LORD WHITFIELD: ..exterminated. Like Reverend Humbleby?

But I had to kill the vicar twice for you to notice.

The iodine on the dressing,

infected from the cat.

You poisoned Reverend Humbleby's drink at tennis, didn't you?

What with?

Strychnine.

Rat poison.

Everyone knew he and Whitfield had been at loggerheads

over the New Town. It's pure vanity!

You were in the library at Ashe Manor

when you saw Tommy ridiculing Lord Whitfield on the balcony.

You targeted those who had slighted Lord Whitfield.

HE YELLS

You saw Carter drunk at the sluices channel.

Then you opened the levers.

Swept him away in the current.

I didn't push him.

It was luck.

The scratches round the keyhole.

You opened Amy's door from the outside

and swapped the bottles.

Detective novels. So educational!

Dr Thomas.

Hemlock, I presume?

You grow it in your garden.

I recall its distinctive smell.

It was you in the surgery

planting evidence that would give cause for Lord Whitfield

to seek revenge.

Just a little something to steer you in the right direction.

But no-one is infallible.

Not even you.

Like your mishap killing Rivers after his outburst at the inquest.

You were interrupted.

Leaving a broken shoe heel.

Which I covered very creatively,

planting it in Lord Whitfield's car.

Lydia Horton.

Strychnine again?

No. Arsenic.

She said the tea Gordon had sent her tasted odd.

But did anyone listen?

Derby Day.

You followed Miss Pinkerton to London.

The driver didn't kill Miss Pinkerton.

You pushed her.

TYRES SCREECH

But the driver didn't stop.

Why would he? Just an old woman.

So you gave the police Lord Whitfield's registration number

and disappeared into the crowd.

But the police disregarded the testimony of a woman.

And today, you took the knife

covered in Lord Whitfield's fingerprints

as if it was sent from Bridget.

to lead him to her murder.

Which, of course, would have removed all doubt.

None of which would have been necessary if anyone...

Noticed your clues.

Perhaps you're just too clever.

I had my moments.

The entire village at my mercy,

never knowing where I'd strike next.

Me...

..who they'd all treated as if I had forever been this dour,

pointless old maid.

It is galling that not a single one of them

pointed the finger at Gordon.

Perhaps no-one listens to old women?

Perhaps we're invisible.

Not to me.

Just unheard.

Unseen.

A respectable person, disrespected

in a place where murder is easy.

CAR DOOR SLAMS LOUDLY

BIRDSONG

I wish you all the best, my...

..clever Bridget.

Capable and a lady.

Too good for me, probably.

It's very gentlemanly of you, Gordon.

Oh...

Murderer?!

Me! Huh!

I don't even hunt!

Dangerously emotional...

Romantic tosh.

Did you give Mrs Pierce Miss Pinkerton's Derby money?

Good.

They'll know what best to do with it.

For Ashe Bottom.

So what will you do, Mr Obiako?

I should be in Nigeria for independence.

They must miss you.

I know I will.

If I stayed here... You'd be lost...

..in the woods.

And you, Bridget?

What will you do?

Where will you go?

Frankly,

I don't give a damn.

Maybe I'll travel.

Maybe I'll turn detective.

It's 1954, a woman can do whatever she likes.

That's my theory, anyway, and I intend to test it...

..thoroughly.

Do watch out for water wheels, Fitz.

And forests.

Old ladies on trains telling tall stories.

SHE WHISTLES

BIRD SCREECHES

Should I encounter any of those,

I'll be in touch...

..Bridget Conway.

MISS PINKERTON: Whatever happens now, someone else knows the truth.

Someone I can trust.

Can't I?

Yes.