Original subtitles

Our tale begins in the year of our Lord 1831.

When the Bethany Rose wrecked off Bingles Beck beach

in the small hamlet of Hunderby.

91 souls were lost that night.

Our heroine was a stowaway, carried to shore by another survivor.

A noble blackamoor - Geoff.

Filthy beast! Trying to eat a dead girl.

He's stealing her locket!

Fellows of such a hue were not common in Hunderby

and thinking her dead, Geoff fled.

Taking her locket with him.

Our heroine would indeed have perished had it not

been for the arrival of Doctor Foggerty.

A sturdy man, just shy of his middle years. Dear God!

Is there no-one left alive?

Foggerty, on swift hands, rushed to her side.

Gathered her up...

And deftly...

Did he blow the lass to life.

How different might our tale have been had the widowed pastor

not appeared. Make way, this is God's work.

Please, sir, I am the physician.

In the name of our Lord Christ Jesus.

Let this wretched soul be saved.

Oh well.

Edmund's wife Arabelle had passed suddenly, but a year before.

And many a haggard fisher wife was eager to warm

the dent in the widower's bed.

But twas this young woman.

Presumed from the ship's log to be

the plain-spinster missionary Helene Blown,

that snared his weeping eye.

Dearest Helene, I've much enjoyed your company of late.

Though I know little of your history and it seems neither do you...

I take much comfort from your simplicity.

Both of looks and character.

I am a pastor... Oh I know, sir. I had not finished.

I am a pastor, and it is usual that a pastor has someone at his side

to tend to his needs, and those of the community.

In short, Helene,

a wife.

Thinking Edmund her saviour, she accepted the proposal.

And though the match was not one sparked by passion,

Edmund's kind and jocund ways led her to expect a marriage benign.

A most welcomed contrast to the shadowy past that led her

to stow away upon the Bethany Rose.

I am most blessed to find you, at my time of life.

Though youth has all but spread his wings and fled you,

I do wonder, through your more dewy years

at the men that did not take you.

Perhaps I did not love them, as I do you, sir.

Them? Helene.

Forgive me, but...

You are untouched?

As Deuteronomy tells us,

I would be forced to stone to death with my own Christian hand

any wife of mine who'd e'er lain with another.

Yes.

Helene,

I've noted on your cheek

a kind of growth. Oh my mole!

You might see fit to cover it for our special day.

The ship did sink, but her past would not.

And on the eve of her wedding, Helene was plagued by memories.

Elizabeth...

Helene felt her heart would burst if she did not tell Edmund her tale.

So that very night she crept into Hunderby

and slipped a confession beneath the slumbering widower's door.

In a hope that he would forgive her.

Yet as is the way with so many a marriage,

the pair were to be joined till death.

Neither one truly knowing the other.

For the letter remained unnoticed.

Unread.

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What is it my love?

You, you still love me?

Still love you, dove?

As I am?

You are as you are, Helene.

Oh Edmund.

Thank you for your grace.

But... where are the congregation?

They prefer to go to the hanging.

Dear God!

We've all rallied round baking him bird pies

and nursing him through his griefs and sad old past.

And he chooses to hook-up with the first dumpy old biscuit

spewed up by the sea.

Biddy.

Master Edmund, I was just saying how pretty Miss Helene was looking.

Well, it is the most flattering light upon you also,

Biddy Ritherfoot.

You almost have a look of Moses, in his latter years.

You must miss your DEAD wife.

Each hour without Arabelle is an agony,

but perfect souls cannot tarry long upon this earthly plane.

And though our time was brief I shall always relish that...

Precious snatch.

Congratulations, Father Edmund.

Oh thank you, Crippled Hester. I did not see you down there.

Oh Brother Joseph!

You are returned.

I do hope the call of the savage will not take you from us

again too soon.

Fiji ever beckons, Brother Edmund.

Would that you might join me there next time,

put some Christian spine into those flat-nose heathens.

Hunderby needs me. I have here a small wedding gift. Gift!

No need, brother.

There is no greater gift than the love of the Lord.

From Fiji.

Oh!

A bird of paradise.

Nay, brother, it is a silktail.

I found it in my bed one night and though I placed it outside,

by morn he had returned,

and once again deposited himself upon my pillow.

His face pressed to mine like a wife.

I shall cherish him and call him... I shall call him Raymond.

It was my late father's name.

What a comely lad.

How's Ruth?

Not well. Oh.

Congratulations, Mistress Suffolk-Finch.

Mistress Suffolk-Finch?

Oh. Sorry.

The name sounds so strange.

I see that old father Sun does shine for you this day.

How did you persuade him to cast-off his cloudy coat?

I did command Brother Breeze to go to him to say it was my windy wish.

Oh.

Sir? Have we met before?

- On Bingles Beck beach. 'Twas... - Come my bride.

I'm sure Doctor Foggerty has little time for such idle prattle.

We must away, the dancers have dwindled

and the hams are ravaged.

Where's mother?

Mistress Mathilde is still abed, sir.

She complained of vipers lashing her insides.

Her bowel has still not spoken, sir.

Oh dear.

Though I fancy I caught a whisper. Oh.

Your hair looks well, Dorothy. Thank you, sir.

I had it rearranged for this special day.

Though I was not invited.

Very cumulonimbus.

Is it based on a cloud? No, sir.

It looks very pretty.

Oh. Ow!

Sorry. Thank you.

I must fresh myself.

Edmund!

Just checking that all is to Madam's satisfaction.

Yes, thank you, Dorothy, everything is quite wonderful.

And the room, ma'am?

I thought a milky pigeon would suit.

Yes, thank you.

Mistress Suffolk-Finch's room was the most beautiful in the house.

Sunset gold that seemed to glow as she did.

'Tis not now used, of course. No.

Perhaps Mistress Suffolk-Finch would like to approve the menu?

But she's dead.

Oh, yes.

Yes, it looks lovely.

Thrush buns in a thick dark gravy.

Mistress Arabelle liked her gravy.

Very thick.

And this is Edmund's mother's room.

It looks lovely.

'Tis only a door.

I cannot wait to... Hush!

She slumbers.

Inconsolable since Arabelle's death.

We never go in here ma'am.

It leads to the bell tower and the stairs are quite rotten.

So it is kept locked at all times.

What is that noise?

Noise?

'Tis most likely owls ma'am. Oh.

They do defecate through their mouths.

What interesting breasts you have, Helene.

Thank you, sir.

I suspect Arabelle's were larger.

They were considerable.

You...

You are...

Much darker down there than perhaps I had imagined.

Do I not please you, sir?

Nay, nay, nay, 'tis just...

Arabelle was...

Smooth as ham.

Nature did not busy her broken mound with such a...

Black and forceful brush.

My mother, they say, was raven-haired and tawny-skinned.

And her nose? Oh, oh proud nostrils.

Flared like a lion's.

Not a Zulu.

Oh, no! No, heavens no, no!

At least...

If truth be told...

I never knew her.

Oh, Edmund! How I wish I knew her!

Helene!

You've soaked my bridal jerkin!

Oh, surely you know velvet cannot abide moisture!

Oh, forgive me!

Oh, I did not know you were so weak.

Arabelle was so strong.

Describe her to me, Edmund. Arabelle?

She was perhaps the most beautiful creature I ever saw.

Other than Bird Raymond.

Oh! This is my special day, it shall not be ruined. Come, dove.

Dorothy will shave you.

Your nighty-dress.

How charming.

Thank you. I...

I believe Dorothy laid it for me.

It was Arabelle's.

She wore it when first I burst her.

Come, bride, that is a quarter after ten.

We shall intercourse until the 30 after.

There may be a sharp searing pain throughout.

Oh... Oh.

Yes, um...

If you would just... Oh... OK.

That's it.

Oh...

Ed... Edmund...

Yeah. What?

It...

It is not in.

Yes.

Bubbly milk, sir?

Please.

That shall be your duty from now on.

Would sir at least wish me to take the... soiled wedding linens?

That will not be necessary.

I've seen a ghost.

Two-headed Tony's seen two ghosts.

They can't all be her.

Poor Arabelle.

I'll never understand how she went so quick.

One day she's eating broiled udders, the next, her funeral.

I heard 'twas cos her face was half-eaten by herpes. No.

They say she choked on her own tongue.

Mind you don't choke on my tongue!

Sorry, ma'am.

Um, would sir like his bubbly milk?

Yes, please.

Without wishing to be bold,

mistress looked very beautiful on her wedding day.

Like a proper princess.

Yes, I heard Arabelle was quite a beauty.

Arabelle? No, I meant you, mistress.

Oh...

Thank you, Annie.

That's very kind.

There you are, ma'am.

Ooh,

it's got a good creamy head on it.

Let's get it up there ere it flops. Thank you.

Oh!

Master Edmund does not wish to be disturbed any further.

His spine is quite aflame from all the activity.

Thank you, Dorothy, but I would pass.

Do you wish to burn down our home walking about with a naked flame?

No.

No, I only wish to give my husband his bubbly milk.

Helene?

Helene!

What in blazes are you doing?

Er... nothing, nothing sir. One moment...

Snuffling around like some rabid bloodhound.

Why do you screw your fist so?

Oh um...

I...I... have a pain.

Most likely trapped winds.

I would ask that you do not purge yourself of such gases

in front of Bird Raymond.

Yes, sir.

Helene?

Helene, where's my bubbly milk?

Oh, look! What? 'Tis a day for weddings, Tom!

There's something written on it.

What's it say?

Rape.

Mother. This is my new wife Helene.

From the shipwreck.

I wish I had been on it.

Another dot rolly, sir? Please.

Oh.

Am I to understand you are leaving us, Dorothy? Sir?

To go to sea.

Where is your parrot?

I hope you have no designs on Bird Raymond.

My cornea is...

Quite scorched, sir.

How so? 'Tis nothing.

People manage without arms and legs, I shall not miss an eye.

It is repairable? Burnt to the stem, sir.

I'm...

I'm sorry.

You mean 'tis ye hath rendered Dorothy a cyclops?

I...I... it...

Excuse me, that will be Doctor Foggerty for Mistress Mathilde.

You may feed Bird Raymond a nibble or two if it shall please you.

Please forgive my widowed eye, Doctor Foggerty,

only Mistress Suffolk-Finch

tossed a beaker of hot milk at me upon her wedding night.

Heavens forfend.

But an accident for sure. Hmm.

It is now but a cave of crumbs.

Might I...

Take a gander?

No! My crusty old socket is really of no importance.

It is Mistress Mathilde that needs thee. Her...

Her bowel has been silent for over three months now.

Well, let us hope they stay for rapid conversation.

I can smooth her trunk manually to cajole the lolling bolus

or failing that I have my scoop and claw.

Invite him out.

Aaaah!

I suggest you retire, ere you further bald my bird.

Good morrow, mistress.

Another fine day.

I do believe that Mr Spring has thrust his shiny snout

above the frost and...!

- Oh? - Excuse me.

You... do not like Mr Spring?

My bird... Raymond!

Foggerty!

Quick! Retrieve my bird ere he perishes.

Come, Raymond! Come, boy!

Come by! Come by!

Sshh...

I have thee.

I have thee.

Thank you, doctor.

You have a wonderful way, Doctor Foggerty.

Doctor Foggerty? Hmm.

I'll show you to Mistress Mathilde's room.

What make you, dove?

More cushions for prayer. Oh...

Jephthah slaying his daughter. Wonderful episode.

It is the nativity.

Oh. Well.

Brother Joseph has confirmed, sir. Oh, very good.

Hmm.

Brother Joseph is a much refined man and it would please me

if we might indulge his cultural bent a little at dinner tomorrow.

I shall sing and Dorothy shall be on crumhorn.

That sounds... wonderful.

What will you do, mistress? Me?

Well, what would Arabelle have done?

What would she not have done, is perhaps more the question.

She was fluent in harpsichord, tuba, flute and drum.

She could sketch like Rubens and paint like Botticelli.

Keen marksman and showjumper.

And as a sprinter, phew, she could outrun any negro.

I could perhaps demonstrate my embroidery.

Maybe take a request for a scene and then recreate it.

I hardly think Brother Joseph will be dazzled

by some slow-moving wool, Helene.

Edmund?

Edmund!

Are you awake?

Edmund.

Aah! Ooh! Oh! Sorry.

I thought you might like me to join you.

Oh... Oh.

Do you know what I should really like?

No, sir.

My bubbly milk.

Oh, and Helene.

Yes, sir.

Perhaps you might secure your topper-most button.

Will not do to have a parson's wife parading her wares

like some cock-hungry she-baboon.

You have been wanting to see Mistress Arabelle's room for a while now, ma'am.

No.

No, no, Dorothy, I...

You need only have asked, instead of poking about

like a pig in a pastry.

We keep everything exactly as was.

They look... lovely.

I fancy I can smell her.

She wore this for croquet.

Was she good at croquet? Oh...

'Twas as if she'd grown the mallet from her wrist.

Ohhh!

Her honeymoon underments.

This housed her breasts.

Her nipple dents...

Still there.

Oh.

I sometimes wonder if... the dead come back

to watch the living.

If she watches you and Master Edmund.

Oh!

Oh, I fancy I saw her! Oh, just then!

In here!

It still holds the whiff of her end place.

Arabelle had the most... wonderful scent.

Like a fallen angel.

Oh!

She sounds... perfect.

You mean you want this room? Sorry?

Oh, no, no. I should have known.

That was why you came in here. No!

Dorothy, I'm perfectly happy... No, no.

I shall have your things moved in here forthwith.

But... But...

Argh! Let me in here.

What in the blazes is going on?

Forgive me, sir. Forgive me.

Mistress Helene insisted that she be moved to Arabelle's room.

At this hour? Edmund, I did not wish to be moved to Arabelle's room!

Please do not pile ingratitude atop my slumber-savaged night.

Dorothy. Is something wrong, sir?

Helene does NOT now wish to be placed in Arabelle's room.

No, sir, I...

Mistress Suffolk-Finch does not now wish to be placed in Arabelle's room? No.

First she wishes it and now she does not wish it. No, no...

She begged that we move her.

Old Ian hath near popped his polio'd leg

with all the shifting, and now this.

I am quite at a loss, ma'am.

Tossed from moment to moment like a pancake on a butt.

Good day, Mistress Helene. Good day, sir.

You are painting, madam.

I shall not disturb you. Oh, no, no.

'Tis only an ugly daub.

'Tis I that have disturbed you, I... Nay, sorry, but you have not.

On Tuesdays I gather bluebells for the sick and the needy,

and check the woods for injured wildlife.

But please, may I?

'Tis a most... promising rendering.

I myself paint.

To quite a standard.

I wanted to paint this for Edmund.

Well, I wonder if I might simply...

Adjust the perspectives a whisper, if that would not insult you.

Oh, no. No. I should be most obliged.

It is important

to hold the brush tenderly.

As one would a lady's finger.

Thence...

Feed it some colour.

Then let it take you...

Whence it will.

Oh.

Life has taken a curious turn for you, ma'am.

One minute you're bound for a leper colony,

the next you're the new mistress of Hunderby.

Yes, I am... blessed.

Or cursed.

What do you think of this for dinner tonight with Brother Joseph?

This lemon sunny gown with the white frothing underskirts.

He must miss the sun and sea, do you think?

I have laid your dress for dinner, ma'am. Oh.

This pocketed smock with less garish hue

offers a more flattering silhouette

to a lady of your... shape.

Oh. Master Edmund has a loathing of bright colours,

and if Ma'am wishes not to embarrass her husband

by dressing as a clown on this most important evening...

Yes.

Yes, yes, silly me.

Dorothy? Can I help at all?

I wish to expand my duties here as mistress and...

Dorothy.

I so want us to be friends.

There is one thing, I suppose.

Yes? Yes, yes, anything!

Bird Raymond needs his supper and his soil tray will want emptying,

whilst I fill me Master Edmund's jasmine creme bath.

I hate you!

How's Ruth?

Not well.

What is this we're eating, Dorothy?

I do enjoy its stubborn crunch.

Battered lambs' faces, sir, there are twelve more in the pot.

♪ Diddle-diddle dumpling, my son John

♪ Went to bed with his trousers on

♪ One shoe off and one shoe on

♪ Diddle-diddle dumpling, my son John. ♪

It puts me in mind of the tribal dances of Fiji.

Young mistress Helene, join us!

♪ Diddle-diddle dumpling, my son John

♪ Went to bed with his trousers on

♪ One shoe off and one shoe on

♪ Diddle-diddle dumpling, my son John. ♪

Fine crumhorn, Dorothy. Thank you, Brother Joseph.

Mistress Helene! What have you in store for us?

Well, I...

I've captured the house in watercolour.

Oh, 'tis nothing, but...

Perhaps Brother Joseph would care to visit Bird Raymond.

I have taught him a new trick and it is most amu... Most am...

Raymond? Has he escaped?

Or is this the trick? Has Raymond learnt to pick a lock with his beak?

Very good, very good, I knew he was a clever fellow!

Raymond? Raymond!

Will I find him up my sleeve or down me breeks?

Oh, I hear much merry rumpus in here!

I have the nine-cheese platter, Brother Joseph.

Nay, nay, nay! Raymond is gone. Raymond? Gone?

Raymond! Raymond!

Raymond.

Forgive us Brother Joseph, I'm sure he's quite near. Raymond! Raymond!

Who was last with him? Who was last with him, very good!

Mistress Helene. Yes, but...

I locked the cage, I'm sure I did.

What business had you with my bird?

Only to feed him! To help Dorothy.

I've seen you with Raymond.

You loathe him.

He does not much care for you either.

No, no, we're firm friends, Edmund!

I can vouch that Mistress Helene did insist on feeding him and I...

I did ask that she empty his tray.

Poor mite, 'tis still piled high with his runny end soil.

Raymond! Raymond, boy!

What?

Come on, come on, come on!

Oh! Ohhhh!

Oh!

What is this?!

Oh! Did she...?

Oh, my gosh!

Oh, please no.

Raymond!

Such a foul and senseless... But I...!

Oh, ma'am!

Oh, dear, dear.

I should make haste.

I'm sorry for your shocking loss.

Oh, Brother Joseph, please.

Oh, yes, Brother Joseph, of course, my wife will be punished but...

You will stay for the cheese?

'Tis a nine-cheese platter, sir.

Comes with nutty crackers!

Nay, nay. 'Tis late for cheese.

Where is she?

Helene?

Where is the bird butcher?

Helene!

Helene!

Helene?

Helene?

Helene!

Ohhh!

Get off her!

Annie, Annie, Annie!

He saved me.

His name is Geoff.

He's from the ship.

The Bethany Rose.

But did swim to shore.

Poor soul. He may remember you, mistress.

Oh, of course!

Geoff?

This is Helene Blown. From the ship?

To Lisbeth,

from John, till death.

You are not Helene Blown!

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