All language subtitles for LOVE_IN_A_COLD_CLIMATE_3_engx

I deprecate any idea
of your marrying

until you're well advanced
on your career in the city.

In particular,
I deprecate any idea

of such a marriage as this.

[Clears throat]

I think, Father,
that most people

would rather covet
such a marriage as this.

After all, Lord Alconleigh...

Oh, I dare they these families
were well enough in their day,

but what I'm hoping for
is a more...

practical type of alliance

with one of the big families
in our own line.

But, Father, will you
at least consent to talk

to Lord Alconleigh,
if only on neutral ground?

I can hardly decline that honor.

LINDA: I do hope Fa
hasn't been too energetic

with Sir Leicester.

He only wants what's
best for you, duck.

Oh, I know, Mummy.

But sometimes he has such
a funny way of showing it.

Do admit.
[Door closes]

Fa, have you seen him?

We met on neutral ground.

The Savage Club.
Suitable place.

The fellow's no better
than a fussy wussy.

I'd have taken this to him
for two pins.

Wish I'd had
my entrenching tool...

it's the only thing
for bloody Huns!

[Door closes]

Quite apart from his offensive
personal manner,

Lord Alconleigh confirms
everything I've ever thought

about these landed families.

But still with large capital
sums at their disposal, Father.

So, if you ask me,
you're well out of it.

Young Kroesig
may look like something

out of a picture book now,

but soon enough, he'll be
the spit of his father,

like some truffling pig who's
wolfed all the truffles

and is wetting himself with
anxiety in case there are still

a few around for someone else.

But, Fa!

[Crying]

So, I'm sending you off,

next week to
our clearing house in New York

to start learning
your business in life.

LINDA: Jassy.

Darling Jassy, do lend me
your running away money

to go to New York.

No, Linda, I've saved
and scraped for years and years.

I simply can't begin
all over again now.

Besides, I shall want it
for when I run away myself.

But I'll give it to you back...

Tony will, when we're married.

I know men.

Oh, if only Lord Merlin
were here, he would help me.

No good thinking about that.
Lord Merlin's in Rome.

Oh, you are all unkind to me.

Not a word of comfort.

And even Fanny's
deserting me now.

I'm sorry, Linda, but I do have
to go to Aunt Emily sometimes.

I'm sure Jassy and Vict can
listen to Tony's letters

just as well as I can.

Oh, my goodness,
they are dreary.

At least they're short.

Such funny, immature
handwriting he has.

I sometimes wonder whether
he can be quite all there.

Horrible, beastly,
counter-Honnish pigs!

Oh, don't go away,
darling Fanny, don't go!

You know I must, darling.

But I'll come back
as soon as I can.

Ah, Fanny...

There has been a most
interesting invitation for you.

FANNY: Aunt Emily, I've only
just come home.

Nevertheless, you can't
fail to be intrigued by this.

Lord and Lady Montdore

are finally back from India
with Polly.

You remember them all, I expect?

Or do you?

It is some years now
since Lord Montdore

went away to be viceroy.

Oh, yes, I remember them
very clearly.

Well, now, Lady Montdore

wants you to go again for awhile
as company for Polly.

Pretty Polly.
How long for, Aunt Emily?

Only a few days.

Lady Montdore is having
a house party.

Rather a grown-up affair,
she says.

Well, that's why she wants
you for Polly.

What does Uncle Davey say?

I'm afraid we can't consult
Davey just now, dear.

It's his day for getting drunk.

I long to tell him.
He'll be so much interested.

Drunk?
Uncle Davey drunk?

Oh, nothing vicious, dear,
just his new health idea.

Ah, he'll tell you
all about it himself.

[Sighing]

The aim is to warm up your
glands with a series of jolts.

The worst thing in the world
for the body is a quiet life

full of regular habits.

That way lies
speedy old age and death.

[Coughing]

But shock your glands,
force them to react,

startle them back into youth,

keep them on tip-toe
so they never know

what to expect next, and they
have to stay young and healthy

to deal with all the surprises.

But, surely,
the thing is that

you do have to surprise
the body?

Hmm?

If you get drunk
on regular days,

then the body will know
just what to expect.

Yes, you have a point.

Emily, when is my next day
for over-eating?

Next Wednesday, dear.
Every fortnight, you said.

In order to surprise and shock
my glands and intestinal organs,

put it back to Friday.

Oh, what a good idea.
Fanny will have gone by then.

Oh, Fanny gone?
Where, might one ask?

She's been invited by
the Montdores to Hampton.

Oh...
fascinating.

Why wasn't I told
about this before?

Because your glands were
too startled to take it in.

Of course, you realize,
Emily dear,

that the poor child
will die of terror?

I'm not a child any longer,
Davey.

Grown-ups have died of terror
at Hampton before now.

[Laughs]

Uh, first of all, dear, someone
who is sure to be there

is Boy Dougdale,
the Lecherous Lecturer.

[Laughs]
Have you ever heard him?

Lord Montdore's
brother-in-law?

And Lady Montdore's cavalier.

Oh, yes...
he played footy with me

when I sat next to him
once at luncheon.

[Laughs]
And as you're probably

still just within
his favorite age group,

there's no telling
what fun and games,

you may have not with him
at Hampton. [Laughs]

EMILY: Oh, dear.

[Clears throat]

I will not disguise it
from you.

The reports I've had
of your work from New York

are not what I had hoped for.

They haven't been
really bad, Father...

they can't have been.

I know how important
this assignment has been,

and I have tried to concentrate.

Tried to?

What is there to prevent you
from succeeding?

The continued uncertainty about

my engagement
to Linda Radlett.

Oh... that.

Well, I don't see that that is
an excuse for indifferent work.

Oh, don't you, Father?

Well, now, let me tell you,

on my return to New York,
I cannot,

I will not give more than
a fraction of my attention

to business and my future career
until I have your consent

to my marrying Linda
and a date for the wedding

has been announced.

Surely, I have sufficiently
explained the disadvantages

of such a union.

And your points have been
well taken.

I know that Linda comes
of a family that is,

from our point of view
entirely obsolete,

both in habit and outlook.

On the other hand,
Linda herself is young,

intelligent, energetic,
very much under my influence,

and, I believe, malleable
to the point where she could

become a tremendous asset.

Asset?

She could become an asset?

So I believe.

Well.
Well, well, well.

I don't wish to see your career

delayed or jeopardized
at this juncture.

If you can assure me that
you can only be serious

about banking after this
marriage has been agreed...

I do assure you, Father.

Then I shall give you
my consent.

It might have been worse.

After all, she is a lady.

Where is she?

Where's Linda?

We're late starting.

SADIE: I don't suppose
she'll be long, Matthew.

You know what trouble she has
getting her stock tied properly,

ever since you refused
to tie it for her.

MATTHEW: Well, that's quite
right, too.

Can't be a child forever.
Got to grow up sometime.

That's right, Fa,
and so I have.

MATTHEW: What's all this?

I'm not coming out today.

SADIE: But the meet's
a Cock's Barn, duck.

Your very best thing.

No point in riding out
to Cock's Barn

just to be miserable.

I might as well stay in bed.

Stay in bed?!
After 8:00?!

You're not ill, are you?

No, Fa, not ill. Sick.

They call it love, in case
you've never heard of it.

Love for someone
who loves me back.

So, everything should be,
could be,

would be absolutely all right,
only you... you won't allow it!

Allow what?

My engagement to Tony Kroesig.

MATTHEW: First time I've heard
of an engagement.

I say I'm engaged to Tony
and he says so.

And even Sir Leicester Kroesig
now says so.

So, who, who, who are you to be
so cruel and obstinate?!

I'm your father, missy,
that's who.

Too old for bread and water.

A stiff dose of Glauber's Salt
should bring her to heel.

[Crying]

MAN: Miss Frances Logan.

Fanny dear!
Such a long time!

How you've grown!
[Laughs]

Come and have a cup of tea!
You must be worn out.

This is Frances Logan.

- Fanny.
- Come along, dear.

ROLY: Not by any chance
the Bolter's daughter?

Yes.

By Jove!
The Bolter's girl!

You know who this is, Veronica?

She's the Bolter's child,
that's all.

LADY MONTDORE: Come and have
your tea, Fanny.

[Laughs]

I couldn't be more fascinated,
considering that

the very first person the Bolter

ever bolted with was Chad,
wasn't it, darling?

Lucky me got him next,

but that was only after
she'd bolted from him again.

Never mind all of them, Fanny.

I don't.
I'm just interested, that's all.

Everyone adores your mother
in a funny kind of way.

They're always wanting
to talk about her.

But it's lucky for you
your Aunt Emily took you over.

Roly, go and fetch Polly,
will you?

I think she's playing
billiards with Boy.

That was a double six.

Oh, bother bloody Sonia
and her fag-calls.

Care to play it out
for me, Chad?

Do take care.

LADY MONTDORE:
And here is Montdore.

My dear.
And this is my friend Fanny.

And do you remember the last
time I saw you?

We were laughing together
over Alice. [Laughs]

Have the Sauveterres
arrived yet, Sonia?

VERONICA: Sauveterres?
Do you mean thrilling Fabrice?

Don't tell me that he's married?

Oh, of course not, Veronica.

He's bringing his mother
to stay.

Of course, we've always
known Fabrice,

and he came out to us in India.

He's very much taken up

with the little
Ranee of Rawalpur.

In fact, they do say
her last baby...

[Clears throat]

And I only hope it was.

Dreadful old man, the Rajah.
Poor creatures.

One baby after another.
You have to feel sorry for them.

Like little birds.

I used to go and visit
the ones they kept in purdah,

and of course, they simply
worshipped me.

It was really touching.

MAN: Lady Patricia Dougdale.

Oh, my dear.

FANNY: I had seen the Dougdales
from time to time

while the Montdores
were in India,

because they were neighbors
at Alconleigh.

Lady Patricia was a perfect
example of beauty

that is but skin deep.

She looked
like a classical statue

that had been
put out in the weather.

Where is Boy?

Playing billiards with Polly,
I think.

Ah, here at last
is my lady wife.

And dear little Fanny!

POLLY: Fanny.

FANNY: Oh, Polly.

Nobody told me.

Have you been here long?

How does my Frances
for this many a day?

So lovely to see you again.

Do you know,
when I was in India,

I used to think and think
about you.

Do you remember the well
in the wilderness?

And how Linda had worms?
[Laughing]

It does seem another life,
so very long ago.

They tell me Linda's
more or less engaged.

Less, I think.

Uncle Matt won't recognize it.

Fancy, though, Louisa married,

and Linda, at any rate,
half engaged.

I suppose you came out
in India?

Yes, I did.

It was all very dull.

Do you enjoy it, Fanny?

What I do enjoy
is the dressing up.

Do you think about
dresses and hats

all the time,
even in church?

Oh, I do, too.

But what about love?

Are they always having love
conversations the whole time?

Incessantly.

Oh, bother!

It happened in India,
but I thought

perhaps in a cold climate
it might be a bit different.

Mother's in a perfect fit
with me

because I never fall in love
with people.

But it's no good,
because if you don't, you don't.

At my age, I should have thought
it's natural not to.

Could you have fallen in love
in India?

Fanny, darling,
what do you mean?

Of course I could have.
Why not?

I just didn't happen to.

White people?

White or black.

Fall in love with blacks?

What would Uncle Matt say?

People do, you know,
like anything.

And I'll tell you something,
Fanny.

I honestly believe Ma
would rather I fell in love

with an Indian
than not at all.

What she hates
is the "not at all."

I know she's only asked this
Frenchman to stay

because she thinks no woman
can resist him.

FANNY: What Frenchman?

The Duc de Sauveterre.

But would your mother
like you to marry a Frenchman?

Oh, not marry, good gracious,
no.

She'd just like to see
if I'm like other women.

Well... she'll see.

Isn't your uncle
Lord Alconleigh?

And isn't he quite, quite barmy?

I wouldn't say...

I mean, doesn't he
hunt people with bloodhounds

by the light of the moon?

Yes, but you see,
the thing is...

Oh, Roly, darling,

how too, too outrageously
riveting!

Do say that again!

He bought a microscope,
Veronica,

so that he could look at...
well, look at his own...

well, effluvium.

Yes, so you were saying,
darling, but which effluvium?

After all, we all of us
have such a lot.

Well, you know, he wanted to
know if he was...

well, you know.

Darling, you mean whether he'd
caught something dreadful?

No, no, Veronica,
those little things

which swim about in... wee wee.

Oh.

[Montdore speaking French]

[Boy speaking French]

Oh, hold on,
that doesn't sound right.

Hasn't won his jockey?

Well, that sounds...

No, no, Montdore, you should
know the idiom by now.

"Gagner son jockey" means
to get in to the Jockey Club.

Oh, of course!

N'est-ce pas,
Madame la Duchesse?

Yes, I shall take
another roll.

Fabrice, you hardly had time

to meet my daughter,
I think, before dinner.

She's a good deal grown since
you last saw her in India.

On the right.

But quite charming.

And the little girl four places
down on the other side?

Frances Logan.

Ah, the Bolter's daughter.

Powdering their noses,
they call it.

I go once in the morning,
and that's that.

I don't have to be let out
like a dog, thank goodness.

Nothing so common,
in my mind.

Who is the lady
with the flat gold hair,

the one with
the five-length lead?

Oh, Veronica.
Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett.

She's very amusing.
Very daring.

Yes, she's considered to be very
fashionable, just at the moment.

This English habit of the men
and their port, it is terrible.

Such infantile stories
they are telling.

They are also playing a game
of Baccara, Lady Montdore,

and they have let me out
to the ladies on condition

I ask your permission
for them.

Anything to keep them
all amused.

I'd better give orders
for the Baccara table.

Go and talk to him.
Now, while you have the chance.

SAUVETERRE:
You are Frances Logan?

Fanny.

Where is
Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett?

FANNY: She went to the lav.
Most of them did.

Ah, they will soon come back,
now they know I am here.

Fabrice, darling, how is dear
Norah des Laumes?

And Cora d'Aubusson?

And Jenny and Daisy de Gisors?

Are all French women called
after English housemaids?

Sonia, darling, so blush-making
in front of Fabrice!

Not at all.

Frenchmen give their daughters
common English names

as it makes it easier for them

to procure your incomparable
English nannies.

What English nanny would consent
to take charge

of a little girl called
Melisande or Albertine?

[Laughs]
I guess that's right.

Let's play backgammon.

I don't know how.

Neither do I, but Boy Dougdale
has promised to teach us

as soon as the gentlemen
come through.

[Laughter]

Mon Dieu!

Oh.

CHAD: I'll raise the maximum
to 500.

Perhaps we ought to be playing
for a small stake.

I've no wish to win anything
from Polly.

You're also playing against me,
remember?

Let's say you get half a crown
if you win,

and I get a nice, friendly kiss
if I do.

Now, let's see
what you've thrown.

Ah, Duchesse.

Now it's time to talk.

During dinner, I don't talk,
because your food here

is so much better than your
husband's conversation.

[Laughs]

Now, then, tell me,

who are those girls with whom
your brother-in-law,

whose conversation is even more
ennuyant than your husband's,

who are those girls with whom
he now amuses himself?

The fair one is my daughter,
Polly.

She needs a husband,
at her age.

LADY MONTDORE:
She seems incapable of love.

Who said anything about love?

A husband is what they all need

to keep them occupied
with bearing children

until they are old enough
and sensible enough

to select suitable lovers.

Get her a husband,
dear Lady Montdore,

to see her through the season
of female silliness.

When she is 35 or 40, it will be
time enough to talk of love.

SAUVETERRE: But it is terrible,
looking at this empty table.

FANNY:
I think we must be early.

Ah, that's too bad.

I long for my porridge
as you do.

But shall we go for a promenade
while it is coming?

"Season of mists
and mellow fruitfulness."

Am I not brilliant to quote
your English Keats?

I do love getting up
with the lark

and going for a promenade
before breakfast.

FANNY: Do you always?

SAUVETERRE:
Never, never, never.

But this morning I told my man
to put a call through to Paris,

thinking it would take
at least an hour

with your execrable
telephone system,

but it came through
straightaway,

so now I'm at a loose end
with time on my hands.

Is somebody ill?

Not exactly, you know.

But she bores herself,
poor thing.

I quite understand it.

Paris must be terrible
without me,

and I don't know
how she can begin to bear it.

Who?

A dear friend.

A dear friend?

And who do you think is

Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett's
lover?

What's that to you?

I find her rather fascinating.

How should I know?

You seemed very interested
in her last night.

You asked where she was.

Perhaps that was because I am
her lover.

Or hope to become her lover.

Or hope not to become her lover
and wish to avoid her.

Or have been her lover
and want to be again.

Or merely to gain a mild frisson
by discussion of old times.

Soyez serieux.

Very well, little Frances.

Fanny.

Very well, Fanny.

Je serai serieux.

It doesn't make a pin of
difference who is her lover.

She lives in one little tiny
group, and sooner or later,

everybody in that group becomes
the lover of everybody else.

It's like a Cabinet re-shuffle.

They always choose out of
the same old lot, you see.

FANNY: A very nasty old lot.

SAUVETERRE: Not at all,
poor things.

They are les femmes du monde,
voila tout, and I love them.

So easy to get on with,
not nasty at all.

FANNY:
Lady Montdore, not nasty at all?

SAUVETERRE: But I love
la mere Montdore.

So amusing she is,
with her snobbishness.

I stayed with them in India,
you know,

and she was so charming,

and so was Lord Montdore,
or at least pretended to be.

And Polly, was she charming?

Polly is beautiful, but she is
rather a riddle to me.

Perhaps she is not having
a properly organized sex life.

I would see what I could do
about it for her,

but one knows
so many people here,

there would be
no time left over.

FANNY: Very few English girls
in our position

have a properly organized
sex life.

I certainly don't.

So, about you,
we shall not worry... much.

Perhaps you will be a jolly
bolter, like your mother.

Oh, no, I'm going to be
a tremendous sticker.

SAUVETERRE: Then, about you,
we shall worry even less.

But the lady Polly,
what a beauty.

Yet it's not certain.

It never is, with English women.

She may just cram
a felt hat on her head

and become
a Lady Patricia Dougdale.

Everything depends on the lover.

Your car is here, sir.

Ah, yes, thank you.
I must go.

No porridge?

Alas, no, I'm going to Newhaven
to catch a boat to France.

So... now, goodbye,

jolly Bolter's daughter.

You're the bolter,
deserting your own mother.

Oh, she will be entirely happy.

As long as she is fed.

But yet, I'm a bolter,
I suppose.

May I salute you,
Miss Fanny, as a sticker?

A tremendous sticker,
for such you are.

I see it now.

Ah, I wish I had somebody like
you to stick to me.

I wish you had.

But you would be unhappy,

because I shouldn't
stick back...

or not for long.

Just as well for me,
perhaps.

Goodbye.

Excuse me, Miss Frances,

her ladyship would like to see
you in the Long Room.

Yes, yes!

Tell Lady Montdore
que j'arrive, j'arrive.

[Woman singing loudly on record]

Now, Matthew.

Matthew, Matthew,
you have to talk.

Matthew!

It's no good
burying your head in this.

I have to speak to you.
Turn that off.

Oh!

[Turns music off]

Matthew, Linda.

MATTHEW: What about her?

She's poisoning her own life
and everybody else's.

MATTHEW: Why?

Because you won't let her have
this boy Kroesig.

MATTHEW: Why bring that up now?

Because I've waited and hoped
long enough

for you to bring it up.

MATTHEW: Why should I?

Because you must have seen how
perfectly horrible she's being.

And because you know very well

that his father's
now given his permission.

MATTHEW:
What's that got to do with it?

Matthew, Linda is being
so disagreeable

that it nearly passes
all bounds.

Now, very soon,
it will pass all bounds.

So, if you don't want something
really nasty to happen,

and you don't want
your favorite daughter

to hate you
and me forever,

you'll let her marry
this Tony Kroesig,

now that his father's
given consent,

and put the best face
you can on it.

Kroesig's a bloody Hun!

Not ideal, I know.

But it's what she wants,
or thinks she wants,

so badly she's
going to torture herself

and everybody else in the house
till she gets it.

Well, just think,
she didn't go out

with the meet at Cock's Barn!

Well, I mean...

Linda marry a Hun?

Oh, merciful heavens, Matthew!

His family has been here
for generations!

And his father was knighted
by the king!

[Sighs]

Well, I suppose it could have
been worse.

At least the fellow's not
a Roman Catholic.

Tony is bottom to Linda,
isn't he?

Mm. Bottom.

This will be the first time
I've seen them together.

Properly, I mean, not just
dancing and so on.

He's such a bore.

B-O-O-R, B-O-R-E, or B-O-A-R?

FANNY: All three.

And as for the other Kroesigs
coming this weekend,

you'd think seeing the whole
horrible phalanx of them

must wake her up.

Sir Leicester and Lady Kroesig
and Mr. Anthony Kroesig.

MATT: Oh, God!

Oh, how do you do?

- Oh!
- Oh!

[All shouting]

[Dogs barking]

MATT: Blast Davey
and his health lamp.

[Woman screams]

Oh, I do beg your pardon,
Lady Kroesig.

Was that, by any chance,
your foot?

DAVEY: Linda will see
the light in time,

but not before
it's too late, I fear.

Poor Linda.

She has such an intensely
romantic character.

Fatal for a woman.

Do you understand
electricity, Fanny?

- No.
- Ah!

Someone to the rescue.
S.O. S... . Save our souls.

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

Stop making
beastly foreign noises

and tell me what
the hell's all this!

Ah, sorry, Matthew, dear.
It's my health lamp.

Well, why bring it in here,
my business room?

It was the only room with
the right sort of plug.

I need it for my digestion.

You know how one can
never digest anything

during the winter months.

I can, damn you.

Ah, you think you can,
but you can't, really.

Now, this lamp pours its rays
into your system.

Your glands begin to work,

and your food
does you good again.

Well, don't pour any more rays

until we've had
the voltage altered.

When the house is full
of bloody Huns,

one wants to be able to see what
the hell they're all up to!

Good God!

Hmm?

And how was the Kroesig visit?

Well, Davey didn't help
by fusing the lights.

Mm. Pity he didn't electrocute
the lot of them.

You don't seem
to like them very much.

Aren't you pleased
about my engagement?

No, of course not.

Why are you doing it?

I'm in love.

Oh?
What makes you think so?

One doesn't think.
One knows.

Fiddlesticks.

Well, you obviously don't
understand about love,

so what's the use
of talking to you?

Neither do silly, little,
half-baked girls

understand about love.

Love, as you will discover
one of these days,

is for grown-up people.

So, for God's sake,
and for all our sakes,

don't go and marry a bore
like Tony Kroesig.

[Mendelssohn's "Wedding March"
plays]

FANNY: When Linda's wedding
was over,

I motored down to Hampton
with Polly and Lady Montdore

to spend a few days there.

I love being so dry in here

and seeing all
those poor people so wet.

FANNY: I was grateful to Polly
for suggesting this,

because I remembered all too
well that horrible feeling

of anticlimax that there'd been
after Louisa's wedding.

I was quite amused...
weren't you?...

to see the difference between
our side of the church

and the Kroesig's side.

Bankers don't seem
to be much to look at.

So extraordinarily unsuitable
having to know them at all,

poor things,
let alone marry them.

Did you see the mingy things
those Kroesigs gave poor Linda?

A check?

Yes, that's all very well,
but for how much, I wonder.

Cultured pearls and a hideous
little bracelet.

No tiara, no necklace?

What's will the poor child
wear at court?

Ah, but then Sadie was so nice.

And Linda, oh, she was so puddy.

Lovely, Lady Montdore.
She was lovely.

Well, yes, dear, I would admit,
coming down the aisle,

she looked quite lovely.

Now, Polly, I want to know

exactly what you did
yesterday in London.

You got there about 12:00.

Wait a minute.
I must get rid of this thing.

It's giving me a headache.

You've no idea how that hurt.

And, so, Polly, you arrived in
London about 12:00, and then...

Daddy went straight
to his appointment,

and I had an early luncheon
at Rutland Gardens.

By yourself?

No, Boy was there.

He'd looked in to return

some books about
the dukes of Norfolk,

and there was plenty of food,
so I made him stay.

Well, go on.

After luncheon?

Hair.

Washed and set?

How else?

Oh, you'd hardly think it.

We must find you
a better hairdresser.

No use asking Fanny about one.

Her hair always
looks like a mop.

It was quite all right until
I had to put that wreath on it.

Never mind that for now.

After the hairdresser?

Tea with daddy at the house,
and then back to Hampton.

Is that all?

May Day, I think.

May Day for what?

May Day for Polly's ball.

Good. It must either be
the first or the last ball

of the season if people
are to remember it.

Not the last, on any account.

Or I should have
to invite all the girls

whose dances Polly had been to.

And nothing's as fatal to a ball
as too many girls.

What is the use

of going into all this
if I can get no help

and no interest from Polly?

Oh, take this evening,
for instance.

She wouldn't even condescend
to dine with us.

The child did say
she had a headache.

Do I never have a headache?

One does everything
for these girls.

Everything!

Haven't a minute
to see my own friends.

I keep the London house going
with a huge staff

eating their heads off
simply for her convenience.

And do you think she's grateful?

Sulky and disagreeable
the entire day long.

Can hardly get
a word out of her.

And then I go to endless trouble

to see that she can go
and stay in nice houses,

and the only one
she wants to go to

are that madhouse at Alconleigh
and that little cottage,

which is all you can call it,
of Davey and Emily Warbeck's.

And the plain fact remains
Polly won't... can't...

ever meet a single soul there.

And if she never meets anyone,
how can she marry them?

But is there so much hurry
for her to marry?

She'll be 20 in May.

She can't go on
like this forever.

What can be the matter with her?

So beautiful,
and no B.A. At all.

S.A., Sonia, or B.O.

S.A., B. O... .
Perfect rubbish and bosh.

None of it existed
when we were young.

All the same, now that
they've been invented,

I suppose it's better
if the girls do have them,

because their partners
seem to like it.

And Polly hasn't a vestige
of either, you can see that.

One thing I never expected

was that she might
end up an old maid!

Come now, Sonia, the poor girl
is still in her teens.

Which does not explain why she
has no come-hither in her eye.

And why she leaves
the light on in her bathroom

night after night after night.

FANNY: Lady Montdore was very
mean about modern inventions,

such as the electric light.

Next thing...

do you want to go to
the Montdore's ball for Polly?

Montdore's a great man
in his way.

If Montdore asks us,
I think we ought to go.

It's Sonia who asks us.

The old she-wolf!

I shall never know what
came over Montdore

to make him marry her.

I suppose, at the time,

he didn't realize how utterly
poisonously bloody she is.

Oh, darling, darling!

Utterly bloody!

But if Montdore asks us,

I suppose we ought to go.

But as we are
between daughters...

two married
and two not yet out...

there's no occasion
whatsoever for us to go

if you'd rather not.

No, if Montdore asks us
to his ball,

it's because he expects
to see us there,

and I think we ought to go.

[Groans]

[Yawns]

Well, at least look at
the Mangioli while you're here.

Awful tripe.

Fellow wouldn't be
simpering away like that.

He'd be dead with
all those arrows in him.

I wouldn't give you seven
and six for it.

Oh, shh, shh, shh.

Montdore! Pleasure
and privilege to be here.

- Ah.
- Happy occasion and all that.

Montdore, dear,

the German Ambassadress,
sitting there quite alone.

Serve her right.

But, my dear Matthew,
just the very man.

Baroness von Ravensbruck,

may I present my neighbor,
Lord Alconleigh?

Supper is quite ready
in the music room.

Good.

Just over there, Matthew.

No man living,
other than your husband,

could have made Matthew
take a German in to supper.

[Both laugh]

And here comes Emily.

We always have ours
together at dances,

a sort of funny,
old sister thing,

left over from the nursery.

Sadie, dear.

When was the first ball
you ever came to here?

The year I came out, 1906.

I remember the excitement

of actually seeing
Edward Vll in the flesh.

And hearing his loud,
foreign laugh.

Yes.

Yes, I thought it was then.

I remember that ball so well.

Just before Boy and I
were married.

Do you remember, during the war,

people said we should never
see this sort of thing again,

and yet, look.

Only look at the jewels.

[Scoffs] No jewel what I've been
having supper with.

Damned old German cannibal.

Kept on asking for more fleisch.

Can't have swallowed her dinner
more than an hour ago.

I pretended not to hear her.

I wasn't going to pander
to the old ogress.

Well, after all,
who won the war?

Wonderful public-spirited
of Montdore

to put up with all
this foreign trash in house.

I'm blowed if I would.

- I ask you...
- Hmm?

Look at that sewer.

Come now, Matthew, the Serbs
were our allies, you know.

Oh, so that's a Serb, is it?

Needs a shave.

Hogs, one and all.

Of course, Montdore only does it
for the sake of his country.

Thinks of nothing but his duty.
What an example to everyone.

And Sonia, too.

She's phenomenal.

Better looking and better
dressed than she's ever been.

But a little tired.

Perhaps I should see
if I can be of help.

Poor, old Patricia.

She's the one who's tired.

What with that liver
and that ghastly husband.

And talking of ghastly husbands,

what have you done with yours?

Tony's gone home early.
Tired after the city.

So, you're free
to dance with me.

Oh, the bliss of it, Dave.

I've got ever so many questions.

I hardly hear
anything these days.

Tony's such and old
stay-at-home.

We only go out
to other bank people.

Oh, you're such an old gossip.

What's all this about Polly?

Fanny reports daggers between
her and old mother Montdore.

[Davey laughs]

Polly seems to spend
all her time

dancing with her father
or Boy Dougdale.

Boy Dougdale,
blasted lady's maid.

I can't stand the sewer.

And talking of sewers,

who's that young brute
who Fanny's dancing with?

He's called Alfred Wincham.

Alfred what?
Well, who is he?

Wincham, Matthew.

He's a don at Oxford.

Oxford?

I hope she didn't meet the sewer

while she was staying
at my house.

No, Matthew, dear.

She met him with Davey and me

while he was staying
with his aunt in Herne Bay.

I'm quite sure Fanny
will introduce him to you

at the end of this dance.

For pity's sake, Emily!
Young hog!

What an old Pasha
you are, Matthew.

You cannot keep
all your female relations

in a permanent condition
of virginity.

That Polly looks as if she's
going to be a longtime virgin.

I shouldn't care for any
of my girls to look like that.

But Fanny looks happy.

Bless her heart.

I see what they mean
about Polly Hampton.

A beauty, all right,

but she doesn't attract me
with that sullen expression.

Hello, my sweet.
What news of the Bolter?

And are you still in love?

Who is that woman?
And who's the Bolter?

And with whom are you in love?

That woman is the celebrated
Mrs. Chaddesley-Corbett.

The Bolter's a nickname
for my mother.

How about love?

Nothing.
Just a joke.

Good.

I should like you to be
on the verge of love

and not yet quite in it.

That's a very nice state of mind

while it lasts.

Don't say he had it on him.
Already?

Just like
The Making of a Marchioness?

Just like,
except it's not a ruby.

Quite the size of
a pigeon's egg, though.

You are lucky.

Oh, I wish I was a boy.

What an extraordinary notion.

Then there'd be none
of this nagging.

And daddy would have a proper
heir and not this cousin

from Nova Scotia
we've never even seen.

Ah, the girls.

Talking balls,
I suppose, as usual.

You going to Leverettes
tonight, Fanny?

Oh, give me some tea, Polly,
dear, I'm quite dead.

Such an afternoon with
the grand duchess.

Fanny's engaged.

To Alfred Wincham.

Well, that's very nice,
I suppose.

Alfred what?
Who is he?

Tea, tea!

Alfred Wincham.
He's a don at Oxford.

A don!
How extraordinary!

Daddy likes dons.

He's always
asking them to dinner.

Oh, Montdore may have them over

from time to time
in the country,

but that's no reason
why they should be allowed

to go marrying people.

Very unsuitable of them.

Whatever does Emily say?

She's awfully pleased.

Oh! Emily and Sadie
are hopeless.

We must think how we
can get you out of it.

Could you ring up and say
you changed your mind?

- No, I can't!
- Well, why not?

It isn't in the paper yet.

It will be tomorrow.

Ah, that's where
I can be so helpful.

I'll send for Geoffrey Dawson
now and have it stopped.

Oh, no, Lady Montdore,
please not!

But she wants
to marry him, mummy.

She's in love.

Love? Look where love
landed her mother.

Whoever invented love
ought to be shot.

Fanny's engaged, mummy.

Look at her pretty ring.

Oh, I am looking at it.

And what I ask myself is,
love or no love,

when are you going
to have one like it?

Oh, better, of course,
far better than Fanny's.

A real ruby, to say the least,
and not coming from any don.

But an engagement ring.

Do you intend to go mooning on
like this forever?

What else can I do?

You haven't exactly trained me
for a career, have you?

Oh, yes, I have.
I've trained you for marriage.

And how can I marry
if nobody asks me?

And why don't they ask you?

Because you give them
no encouragement.

No man likes to make love
to a dummy, you know.

It's far too gruesome.

I don't want to be made love to.

Then what do you want?

Oh, leave me alone,
mother, please!

To stay on here with us
until you're old?

Daddy wouldn't mind.

Oh, yes, he would.

Well, not for a year
or two, maybe,

but nobody wants their girls
to be hanging about forever,

a sour old maid.

And you'll be the sour kind,
that's obvious already.

You'll be wizened up and sour!

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