All language subtitles for LOVE_IN_A_COLD_CLIMATE_5_engx

Welcome!
Welcome to Hampton!

The beauty.

I can only say I am
quite drunk with it!

England's so much more beautiful
than I had imagined.

I never had very good reports of
England somehow.

And this house... so romantic!
Such a repository of treasures!

And above all, you!

The two most beautiful people
I have ever seen.

Won't you take off your
spectacles?

I should so like
to see your eyes.

Later, dear Lady Montdore,
later,

after my paralyzing shyness
has quite worn off.

They give me confidence,
you see, like a mask.

I should like my life to be
a perpetual bal masque.

Oh, uh...
This is Frances Wincham.

I am enchanted
to meet you.

How do you do?

I am so happy
to be here!

Oh, my dear boy,
we're so happy to have you.

You should have come before,
but we thought

you were always in
Nova Scotia, you see.

This table!

Dresden?

Oh!

Louis XV.

Ha ha.

Oh! Fragonard!

And Boucher!

And what's this?

Ahh!

China with
Marie Antoinette's cipher.

Oh! How delightful!

At Chevre, we have
the Meissen service

she brought with her
from Vienna.

We have many relics of
Marie Antoinette,

poor dear, at Chevre.

Chevre?

The house in which I live when I
wish to be in the country.

Oh, the gardens and fountains.
Literally hundreds of fountains.

And then, when I am weary
of rural life,

I have, in Paris, an apartment
of all beauty,

dear Lady Montdore,
one's idea of heaven.

Lord Montdore,
Lady Montdore,

do come... promise me
that you will come!

LADY MONTDORE: Oh, well,
we shall have to see.

Personally, I've never been
very fond of France.

The people are so frivolous.
I greatly prefer the Germans.

Germans!? The frivolity of
the Germans terrifies even moi.

I have a German friend in Paris,
Lady Montdore,

and a more frivolous creature
does not exist.

I hope you will make

some suitable English friends
now, Cedric.

That is what I long for,
but, please, please,

can my chief English friend
be you, dear?

Dearest Lady Montdore.

I think you should call us
Aunt Sonia and Uncle Montdore.

May I?

May I really?

Oh, I am so happy
to be here!

You seem, Aunt Sonia, to shower
happiness around you.

Yes, I do.

I live for others,
I suppose that's why.

Sad thing is, people have not
always appreciated it.

Well, they're so very selfish
theirselves.

Aren't they, aren't they?!

I have been a victim

to the selfishness of people
all my life.

That German friend
I mentioned just now,

his selfishness passes
comprehension,

how one does suffer.

Oh, it's a he, is it?

A boy called Kluge...

I hope to forget all about him
while I'm here.

Now, Lady Montdore,
dearest Aunt Sonia,

after dinner, I want you to do
me a very great favor.

Will you put on your jewels

so I can see you sparkling
in them?

Oh, well, really!

My dear boy!

They're down in the strong room.

I don't know when they were
last cleaned.

Please, don't say no, because
ever since I set eyes on you,

I've been thinking
of nothing else.

You must look truly glorious
in them.

Very well.

After dinner, the jewels.

Tell them to bring up
the jewel cases

to the long gallery.

Yes, milady.

Montdore, the keys.

But on this condition... that
you take off your spectacles.

Perhaps I could.

Yes, I really think the last
vestige of my shyness

is quite gone.

Ah! Anyone can tell
you're a Hampton.

And let us never see those
horrid spectacles again.

Cedric, you must tell us
about your life.

When did you leave Canada?

When I was 18.

I was sent by my guardian,
a banker, to Paris,

to learn
some horrid sort of job.

What sort of job?

I quite forget, as I never had
to go near it.

In Paris, it is not necessary
to have jobs.

One's friends
are so very kind.

Really? I always thought
the French were rather mean.

Certainly not to one.

One's needs are very simple,
I admit, but such as they are,

they have all been satisfied,
over and over again.

What are your needs, Cedric?

I need a very great deal
of beauty around me.

Beautiful objects wherever
I look and beautiful people.

You see the point of one?

Ahh!

The jewels!

Thank you, thank you,
thank you!

Ohh!

Ohh!

But no, no haste.

One must create the spectacle
with due care,

with reverence!

Now, first of all,
Aunt Sonia darling,

that dress
simply won't do.

Now, let me see.
Oh, yes!

Uh-huh.

There.

Oh, yes.

Now, then,
a little brooch, I think.

A nice, big diamond brooch!

There we are.

Now then, have you got some
maquillage in your bag, dear?

Fanny, dear, my bag?

Oh, I'll get it!

There.

Thank you, dear.

Ahh!

Oh, naughty, naughty you!

Horrid, cheap stuff that flakes!

But never mind,
this will do for now.

We've got to show
the bone structure.

So beautiful!

There.

Now, then, I think we'll have to
find you a new coiffeur.

It should go back
like this, like this, there!

Now then, uh-huh.

Hmm!

Oh, yes.

There! Now...

Come and take a look.

There we are.

My turn now.

Uh...

Well, I must say
good night,

but before I go, dear boy,
I should like you to have this.

Oh, Thomas Grey?
So English!

Just what I need
now I'm here.

The flyleaf may interest you.

Oh, Uncle Montdore,
what can I say?

Oh!

The fascination!

Well...
I'm so glad you like it.

[Clears throat]

[Door closes]

Now, Aunt Sonia, you really must
pat your face more.

"Pat?"

With nourishing creams.
I'll show you.

Such a wonderful face you have,
but so neglected, starved.

By mirrors, you're betrayed.

So, we must feed it up
and exercise it from now on.

And twice a week,
you must sleep in a mask.

A mask?

Not like that poor man
with the iron contraption,

but one that you paint on
at night.

It goes a little hard,
of course,

so you must never telephone

before you've removed it
with a special remover.

Because if you telephone
with a hard face,

you will sound cross,

and if it happened to be one
at the other end,

one simply could not bear it.

Oh, these heavenly tourmalines.

Such a minor stone, I know,
but so...

lambent, somehow.

Now, I'll lend you these
and these

and you'll lend me this
and this.

There, now...

How do I look?

Marvelous! Do you think emeralds
would improve me?

Oh, yes, darling Aunt Sonia!
Absolute perfection.

But I have a teeny confession
to make.

I really rather like
amethysts.

Oh, my dear, and so do I,

so long as they are huge
and set in glittering diamonds.

They look so very becoming
on one.

When are you going to
introduce him to us?

Not for a while, I think.

Oh, come on,
we'd be safe.

I suppose it's little Matt
you're worrying about.

He goes back to Eton next week.
Then you can introduce us.

I don't see why
all this worry about me.

I can take care of myself
with people like Cedric.

I've had enough practice
at Eton.

- Anyone we know?
- Matt, do tell.

I might tell...

if you lend me a fiver from
your running-away money.

I'm sorry, Matt, if there's
one thing I hold sacred,

it's my running-away money.

You might tell all the same.

I bet that spotty David Harvey
from Stow-on-the-Wold had a try.

I saw him fancying Matt
at Christmas.

I'll tell you all about
my sex life at Eton

if Fanny will introduce us all
to Cedric Hampton.

Absolutely not.
You'll just have to wait.

Goodness, how mean, Fanny.
Do admit.

But, Fanny, why?

We're not poor, simple, little
us anymore, you know that.

I'm afraid I cannot introduce
you to Cedric

until your father
and mother have met him.

But if that happens,
from the sound of it,

Fa will just slaughter him
with the entrenching tool.

I fear so, what with all
the talk of Paris

and everything else.

Cedric will count with
your father

as the very prince
of "sewers."

So regal, darling.

Exactly you, Aunt Sonia,
to bring back

all your splendor
as Queen of the Raj.

Oh, I don't know.
Rather overdoing it, perhaps.

What do you think, Fanny?

No good asking me.

As Cedric constantly reminds me,

I'm just a frumpish
Oxford housewife

who knows nothing
about clothes.

No, Fanny, what one said was
that you do very well

in the country,
so wholesome, darling,

but that your relatively simple
nature isn't suited

by the higher sophistications.

They require a combination of
subtlety and majesty

which we have
in magnificent Sonia.

All great nonsense, of course,
and transparent flattery.

There is no doubt, Davey, that
Cedric has transformed her life.

And he's making Montdore
very happy, too.

Montdore says that Cedric
knows more

about the 18th-century
French editions at Hampton

than he does himself.

Always round happiness.

Disagreeable
to see people happy.

But I can't bring myself
altogether to like Cedric.

How couldn't you, Davey?
I absolutely love him.

I have seen too many Cedrics.

Lucky old you...
I couldn't see too many.

You, for all your intelligence,
are an innocent English rosebud.

Not after all I've heard
from you over the years.

And here's another item
for you to treasure.

The likes of Cedric, Fanny,
always turn nasty in the end.

The radiance will vanish.

And the last state of Sonia will
be far worse than her first.

I've seen it so often.

I don't believe it.
Cedric loves Lady Montdore.

Cedric loves Cedric.

Moreover, Fanny,
he comes from the jungle,

and as soon as it suits him,
he will tear her to pieces

and slink back
into the undergrowth.

Cedric!

Darling Fanny, door open
as usual so in I popped.

Dear Davey, looking so radiant
after your last cure.

Ecoutez bien,
I am the bearer of news.

Sonia is in the most
terrible taking

because Polly and Boy...
how one longs to meet them...

have rented a house in Sicily

from Uncle Montdore's old friend
the Principe di Palermo.

I've just had the most ghastly
job quieting Sonia down.

But why should Sonia object?

It seems that she
and Uncle Montdore

spent two days of their
honeymoon in the house.

She, therefore, thinks it
tasteless that the Principe

let Polly and Boy have it

and odious of Polly and Boy
to want it.

Foolish old woman!

Why should anyone remember

the last little details
of her honeymoon?

Try putting that question
to Sonia yourself.

You know, I may be able to
inspect Polly and Boy

in their new home
before long.

I'm off on a cruise.

How delicious!
Where?

To Crete and back.

I give a daily lecture based
on my book

"In Sickness and in Health,"
and go cheap.

But the point is
that on the way,

we call at several parts
of the Sicilian coast.

Ha ha!

Polly and Boy...
the absent influence.

So boring and overdone
in literature,

but I see now
that in real life

it can eat you
with curiosity.

How one dies to meet them.
Oh, describe, Fanny, describe!

Well, she's so beautiful that
all you want to do is just

gaze and gaze and gaze.

More beautiful than one?

Very much like you, Cedric.

So you may say, but I don't find

that you just gaze and gaze
at one.

You listen carefully, but you
do not always look.

She is very much
like you Cedric,

but I think she must be
more beautiful,

just because of the thing
about the gazing.

I know exactly why... it's all
this horrible shaving.

I shall send away to New York
this very day

for some of this new wax.

You can't conceive
the agony, Fanny dear,

but if it will make you gaze,
it will be worth it.

Please, don't bother, Cedric.

It's not the shaving,

it's some little extra thing
which Polly has.

You're so lucky
not to be a beauty, dear.

You'll never know the agony
of losing your looks.

Thank you very much.

Since talking about pretty Polly
makes us both so disagreeable,

let us pass on to Boy.

FANNY: No gazing there.

Boy is old and grizzled
and hideous.

CEDRIC: Now, Fanny, that is
simply not true, dear.

I have seen many photographs
of Boy.

Sonia's scrapbooks
are full of them.

Boy on his polo pony.
Boy in his uniform for the war.

Boy with his Indian bearer.

Rather a look of Kluge,
I thought.

Kluge?

The German boy
I told you about.

The one who's so selfish?

Very, very naughty.

He took a fancy to so many
of the general's things.

Which general?

One's friend, dear.

The one in beautiful Chevre
with all the fountains?

No, that was a baron.

The general hadn't much taste.

Kluge seemed to think he had.

[Chuckles]

The general's things were very
vulgar dear, but very expensive.

I see a young girl
and a delicious boy

who are heading
straight for us.

Victoria and Matthew, what on
earth are you doing here?

Pursuing you both...

Basil's mummy said you'd gone
for a walk.

We don't want to be pursued.

News, urgent news.

But we shan't tell
till you introduce us.

Anyway, darling,
it's so rude not to.

Cedric, these are my cousins,
Victoria and Matthew Radlett.

Mr. Cedric Hampton.

My dears,
I am quite bewitched.

This news!

Jassy's run away.

No!

Sadie's had a cable saying,
"On way to Hollywood, love."

Hollywood? But she's never been
interested in the cinema.

VICTORIA: She did go once,
about a month ago,

and she's fallen in love with
a film star called Cary Goon...

or Gary Coon... I can't quite
remember which.

So she wrote him,
asking if he was married,

and saying that if he wasn't,
she'd go marry him herself.

So we suppose she got a letter

saying he's not married
and just went off.

Lucky she had
her "running away" money.

What on earth are Aunt Sadie
and Uncle Matthew going to do?

MATT: Fa thinks the only
person that can deal with it

is Davey Warbeck... you know how
keen Fa is on him.

But Davey's off
on a cruise.

Of course, people have said

that one is quite knowledgeable
about these situations.

You step out of this, Cedric.

Poor old Fa.

It looks as though
he'll have to

go chasing off to America
himself.

That's too much to ask,
bless his heart.

The whole thing will just have
to simmer down

until Davey gets back.

[Bicycle bell rings]

Meanwhile, Alconleigh is
besieged by journalists.

And I only hope none of them
gets beheaded

with the entrenching tool.

Uncle Matt will be glad
of new opponents.

Oh, dear,
how I wish I was there!

And not just for
the knockabout.

Country, real country.

The great difference between
proper country

and this hideous Surrey

is that in Surrey,
when you see blossom,

you know that there will be
no fruit.

Think of the Vale of Evesham

and then look at
this pointless pink stuff,

with those dreary Kroesigs
waiting at the end of it.

You were a Brit
to come with me.

They're fond of you, you know,

and your being there
will make it all much better.

I don't mind them,

but I've never been on
their Surrey ground before.

What will happen?

I will have to hold
Moira for a bit.

Ugly little thing.

Though I must say, it does suit
her being in Surrey.

Even if it's not proper country.

She loves Pixie Townsend.

Pixie Townsend?
Don't know the name.

But you'd know the type...

young face with white hair
dyed blue.

[Birds calling]

Married and divorced
years ago.

Lives near here and has
taken a fancy to Moira.

And to Moira's father.

I'm only too grateful,

because now I needn't feel
in the least bit guilty.

They all get on
so much better without me.

Um...

my daughter-in-law
you know, Pixie.

And this is Mrs. Wincham.

Mrs. Townsend.

And where do you hail from,
Mrs. Wincham?

Oxford.

Ah, all those dreamy spires
and moldy old dons.

I'm married to one...
he's younger than you are.

Oh.

I'm afraid I don't know much
about the universities.

Clearly not.

Ah, I have a special treat.

I've asked little Moira
to take lunch with us.

Say hello to mummy, Moira.

[Baby crying]

Ghastly!

Uh, my wife will be down
in a minute.

Now, I must warn you all
that we have

rather a rough diamond
coming to lunch.

Son of an ancient professor
who lives in the village.

The boy's by way of being
a Communist.

Clever chap, gone wrong.

Bit of a scribbler
on some daily rag.

Like to see something of
these Left Wing fellows.

They're quite easy to tame
if you take the trouble.

His name...

Mr. Talbot.

Ah, my dear chap,
how kind of you to come.

Now then, Mrs. Wincham,
Mr. Talbot.

Mrs. Townsend, Mr. Talbot.

My daughter-in-law Linda,
Mr. Talbot.

Christian Talbot.

And this is Moira, Tony
and Christian's little girl.

[Baby crying]

I think perhaps it might be...

Come on, Moira.

Forgive me, my dear chap.

So, that is yours?

Yes.

She doesn't seem to like me.

That is entirely
in your favor.

I think she smells
a class enemy.

Whatever she smells,
Mr. Talbot,

it comes from the same class.

I am long since
declasse, Mrs. Wincham.

You wear your disguise
with too much style,

and anyway,
it's too obvious.

You were to have sat next
to Moira at lunch, Linda,

with Nanny on her other side,
but, as it is,

I think it might be better if
she returned to the nursery.

I'm sorry, Sir Leicester,
I seem to have had

an unsettling effect
on Miss Moira.

No, no, my dear chap,
not at all.

It's...

just that Moira doesn't see
her mother very often.

He certainly has
an unsettling effect on me.

Rough he may be,
Communist he may be,

gone all wrong he may be,

but I think he's pure heaven.

Idyllic.

Torture.

Pure torture!

Unbearably hot now.

Unbelievably cold
last winter.

Bloody fireplaces
smoking all the time.

No hot bath water.

Well, of course, it can be

rather beastly in Sicily
in the winter.

It is beastly in Sicily,
full stop.

Cheated the whole time.

And quite expensive enough
without that.

Everything's going to be done
tomorrow, but it never is.

And when it is, it's botched.

As for the horrible food...

A little bit oily, I agree.

Swimming in grease.

But even the vegetables
are rotten.

But surely Sicily is rather
famous for their vegetables.

Rotten vegetables!

At least...
as far as we're concerned.

Because although we grow
our own,

the gardener sells all
the sound ones in the village

and pockets the money.

Just as my maid sells my
stockings and the best blankets.

The ones she's left are as stiff
as boards, you can't sleep.

Or, apparently,
do anything else.

Just lie there.

Waiting for day.

Thank you.

Waiting for the bare
half-hour at dawn

when the vile mosquitoes
have gone.

Before this ghastly heat
begins.

[Sighs]

It's wonderful how you've come

on the last few months,
Aunt Sonia.

All those cruel bags
and pouches gone.

Well, almost.

And your hair, my dear...

Botticelli's Venus simply isn't
in competition.

There was one thing
I was wondering.

I have a...
well, an acquaintance

who's a specialist in certain
kind of...

well, let's call it
handicraft, dear,

and I was wondering whether
you'd ask Uncle Montdore

to employ him to do expert
cleaning and repairs

under my very own supervision
on some of the lovely things

that you have round the place
that need it,

constant vigilance being
an absolute necessity,

as I'm sure you'll be
the first to admit.

Don't try and speak, dear,
it will only upset your face.

Just nod your head like this if
you agree to ask Uncle Montdore.

Oh, thank you, Aunt Sonia.
None of us will regret this.

I'll speak to Uncle Montdore
myself to save you the trouble.

So, you see, my darling, she's
really been most kind

and reasonable, doing everything
one suggests.

Of course, I shan't be a little
careful she doesn't find out

that what dear Trevor really
specializes in is one,

but nobody can say
that she's been grudging.

All things considered,
she owes you a few favors.

Very much my view, darling.

The only trouble is,
I'm going to have to be

rather strict
with Sonia soon.

I'm not quite sure how
she's going to take it.

- Strict?
- Mm.

You see, she really has come on
very well lately.

She does begin to look
like a vicereine

and not just some dowdy
five-star memsahib.

But there is one little flaw...
it's not so little when you come

to think of it...
her figure.

One does see...

My dear, kilos of it,
and all in the worst places.

It's all that starchy
Hampton food,

and, my dear,
she's so greedy!

Just like a boa constrictor,
or should it be "constrictress"?

Swallowing whole camels
or whatever they do.

If she's happy with her kilos,
why not let her keep them?

Because I want her to take
herself seriously

and become perfect
in her way.

You see, darling,
I do rather love her.

Well, at least I love
creating her,

and, of course, she adores one,
and...

one must not let her down.

She may not adore one
quite so much when one tells her

she's a greedy old boa
constrictor or constrictress.

Of course, one will raise the
topic a little more discreetly,

but the thick and the thin of it
is that she will simply

have to go to a place
in the bitter end

and drop about
half a hundred weight.

Still, I think that little
problem can wait a little while

until I've installed
lovely Trevor

to polish up
a few of the objects.

DAVEY: Fanny!

Ah! Here's delicious Davey!

Home from his cruise
like Ulysses from Troy, darling,

with twice as much news to tell
by the look of him.

Mwah!

Now, sit down, my dear,

and tell your two Penelopes
absolutely everything.

Well, I might as well start off
by telling you

that I don't think Polly and Boy
are at all happy.

Now, Davey, dear,
you're going much too fast.

New readers begin here.

Now then...

you left your boat.

So all ways round,
rather dispiriting.

There they are,
living in paradise,

sending up one long wail.

How did they look?

Boy... very silly in shorts.

And Polly... beautiful?

No... less beautiful.

Perhaps because of the heat,
which she simply loathes.

Lunch was no sooner over
than she was in her room

with everything drawn and I had
a session alone with Boy,

and then I really saw how
the land lay.

I know it's wrong to arouse
the sexual instincts

of little girls so that they
fall madly in love with you,

but poor Boy's taking
a frightful punishment.

Apart from that, he has
literally nothing to do

from morning until night
except water his geraniums.

And that's not doing them
much good.

[Cedric chuckles]

But I thought Boy
was so fond of Dukes.

Sicily is full of
the most heavenly dukes.

Fairly heavenly, and they're
nearly always somewhere else.

In any case, he doesn't
count them

the same as French
and English dukes.

That's absolute nonsense.

I mean, nobody could be grander
than Picchio.

But if he doesn't count them,

and I do see that some of them
are a bit unreal,

and he's got to live abroad,

why on earth doesn't he
choose Paris?

My dear Cedric,
they are very poor.

Oh, dear. When you think of how
rich Polly would have been.

Now, no cruel looks at one.
Fair is fair, you know.

Anyway,
it's a shocking business.

Just goes to show you where
dear old sex can land you.

Oh, dear!

If Boy isn't happy,
then Polly can't be either.

Poor Polly.

It was her idea.

And...

I think that Polly is having
a spot of trouble with Boy.

The old trouble?

The old trouble? Oh, do explain
to poor, ignorant one.

When Boy was married
to Patricia,

he liked little girls
and kitchen maids,

if possible,
in combination.

I see!

So, now he's chasing
12-year-old kitchen maids

round and round
the pasta pot.

No, it is not the 12-year-old
kitchen maids

he chases round
the pasta pot.

So that, over and over again,

So that, over and over again,

one comes back
to the great rule.

Since all men are equal,

we must take from each
according to his talents

and give to each
according to his needs.

But that somehow makes it sound
as though all men aren't equal.

If some can give more than
others and others need more...

They are morally
and politically equal.

Of course, some men are
more able than others.

And it is their duty
and privilege to provide

for their comrades and brothers,
as they now do in Russia.

To Brother Russia.

Yes, Brother and Mother Russia,
prison camps and all, Christian?

Executions, censorship,
and all the rest of it?

Who told you that?

It is rather in the air,
you know.

Yes. Put there by a corrupt
and lying Capitalist press.

I'll have a meeting
about that soon.

To protest against
the falsification and bias

of the British press.

Huh.

Tomorrow afternoon, by Jove,
in Battersea Townhall.

And in the evening, the party
for the Ethiopian students

in Paddington Baths...
Busy day.

If you don't mind, Christian,

I had got a party of my own
to go to tomorrow.

Just this once.

What party? Whose?

An old friend,
name of Chadsley Corbett.

Ah, yes, the brilliant
and fashionable Flapper.

Not so fashionable anymore.
Rather sad.

But still rich.

Champagne and caviar?

I suppose.

And you thought of getting
your jewels out of the bank.

I shall simply wear one
of my old dresses, Christian.

Veronica will understand.

That you've gone off with
a penniless revolutionary?

We must all make allowances
for poor Linda, my dears.

Very tolerant,
the Veronicas of this world.

So superior, they think nothing
can ever unseat them.

They'll learn.
Oh, yes, they'll learn.

Then you mustn't grudge me
a little fun with them first.

You're your own mistress, Linda.

You go where you like
tomorrow night.

But if you go to your friend,
name of Chadsley Corbett,

I don't think that I shall much
want to see you

when I get back
from Paddington Baths.

[Sighs]

Fuller's Walnut Cake.

You'll never know

how I longed for this sort
of thing in Sicily.

Do you remember how we used
to come here from Alconleigh?

Seems a century ago.

What made you come back?

Remember my old Auntie Edna?

In the Grace and Favour House
in St. James' Palace.

Well, the good old girl died
and left me all her money.

Although mummy tried
to stop her.

Not very much,
but we think we can afford

to live at Silkham.

And Boy's writing a book,
he's had to come back for that,

London Library in Paddington.

Paddington?

What do you call it?

Oh, yes, he came to Louisa's
"coming out" ball.

He must be about
a thousand years old by now.

Don't be so silly, Fanny.

He fought in the war with
your Uncle Matthew.

Anyway, he's got
this Munich room

which Boy wants to go through
for his book.

Then there's this baby.

One can't have them in Sicily,
poor things,

not a cow in the place.

Though I don't think Boy wants
to settle down here for good.

I think he's still frightened
of mummy, you know.

I know I am.

Not frightened, exactly, but
bored by the idea of scenes.

There's really nothing more she
can do to us, is there?

I don't think you need worry
about her.

She's changed completely
in the last year or so.

There's someone new
in her life.

Cedric Hampton?

I remember when I was
a little girl

I used to look him up to see
what he would do.

Well, he wouldn't have done...
that's quite certain.

So I imagine.

I really think he loves
your mother, you know?

He's such a slave to her.

Never leaves her side
for a moment.

Always in such
high spirits.

I don't believe anyone could put
it on to that extent.

It must be love.

And she certainly loves him.

But is she in love with him?

In love?
I don't know.

She loves him like anything.

He makes such fun for her,
you see.

But she must know
that ladies, well...

falling for him wouldn't be
quite his thing, poor Cedric.

No, I don't agree.

Boy and I are certain she knows
nothing whatever about all that.

He says she once made a fearful
gaffe about Sodomites,

mixing them up with
the Dolomites.

It was all over London.

So my guess is that she doesn't
know about Cedric

and that she's
in love with him.

She's a great
faller-in-love, you know.

I used to think at one time that
she rather fancied Boy.

But Boy says not.

Front door open, Fanny,
so I?

Yes, of course,
that's quite all right.

Tea.

Oh, tea.

Never mind, I can soon
get some more made.

Don't bother, we must go.

I suppose you've lost the key
of the car as usual.

No, no, here it is,
on my key ring.

Quite a miracle.

Goodbye then, darling.
I'll telephone soon.

Bye, Fanny.

It was clear just in
those few seconds, Alfred.

She's not in love
with him anymore.

Do you never think of anything

but who is or is not
in love with whom?

But this is very sad,
Alfred.

After all,
she's carrying his child.

It's the child
I'm sorry for.

Oh, Fanny!

Darling.

I want to talk to Fanny, Boy.

Don't you hang around
pestering us.

Go and get on with your work.

I know, darling, but it's all
for his own good.

Pretends he can't concentrate
until after the baby now,

so he wanders about,
getting on everybody's nerves

when he ought to be getting on
with Paddington's documents.

He must hurry if the book's
to be out for Christmas.

He's still got
Sauveterre to do.

Have you ever met
Geoffrey Paddington, Fanny?

Yes, I told you.

He comes to see Boy
about the book.

Quite often he pops in
on me for a chat.

He sent all these flowers,
which he shouldn't have done

because he's not at all rich...
for a duke, anyway.

[Vehicle approaching]

That will be him now.

I do hope Boy brings him up.

I expect they've got work
to do together.

What are you going
to call him?

If it's a boy?

I hadn't really thought...
what about you?

If it's a boy... and I'd like
another boy

to be a friend for Basil...
we're going to call him David.

Why shouldn't a girl be
a friend for Basil?

I wonder what's
keeping Geoffrey.

Girls can't play cricket.

BOY: I brought
Geoffrey Paddington, Polly.

Little Fanny Logan,
the Bolter's girl.

- Wincham.
- From the Alconleigh ball.

Caviar!

Oh, Geoffrey.

Sorry you've got to be going
so soon, Fanny.

Boy will see you out on
the way back to his study.

No, darling, naughty!

Remember what I told you
about your figure.

Oh, please, Cedric,
just one more.

Oh, very well, Aunt Sonia,
you can have one more.

You can even have
two more.

- Two?
- Yes, two, Aunt Sonia.

On condition, Aunt Sonia,
that you go to that place

that I told you about
for a fortnight's diet.

That one Davey Warbeck's
gone to?

Yes, darling, only he went there
to put on weight

after all his exhausting
lectures he did on his cruise,

whereas you, my darling, will be
going there to take it off.

Now, remember...

You eat that muffin,
and you are solemnly contracted

to go to that place
on a diet.

Well, I don't suppose
it will be too bad.

Lots of egg salads
and things.

Half a carrot a day and some
warm turnip juice at bedtime,

if you're lucky.

Anyway, it's too late
to back out now

because you've eaten
that muffin.

She doesn't behave
like a mother-to-be.

She's far more interested
in the Duke of Paddington.

I shouldn't lose
any sleep over her.

Even more worrying is this
business

of Linda and Christian Talbot.

She's definitely going to move
in with him now.

Tony will have to "take steps,"
as Uncle Matthew used to say.

Hmm.

I wonder if there's anything
I can do to help.

Well, they ought to try
and dissuade her.

Fanny...

come here.

After all, she's my oldest
and dearest friend.

So special, Alfred.

Linda Kroesig, nee Radlett,
is a grown woman,

believed by her acquaintances
to be sane

and known to be self-willed.

She will, therefore, do
what she will do.

And the consequences will be
what they will be.

And she and Fate alone
must take the blame.

As usual, there's a good deal
in what Alfred says.

But I still think I might have
done something to deter Linda.

If I'd only been in England.

But you weren't... you were
amusing yourself in Venice.

Don't be governessy, Frances.

That will help nobody.

How far has it gone?

She's written from his address.

Disaster.

I've known Christian
from a child.

The women who've been in love
with him have suffered bitterly

because he's not even noticed
that they're there.

I expect he's hardly aware that
Linda's moved in on him.

Linda and Christian Talbot.
Tsk-tsk-tsk!

It's as bad as can be.

She wasn't happy with Tony.

Well, nobody expected her to be.

Point is that she's out
of the frying pan

and into the empty grate.

I think she was attracted by
the Communist bit of it.

Linda's always felt
the need of a cause.

Oh, my dear Fanny,

I think you're mixing up cause
with effect.

Christian's
an attractive fellow

and I quite see that he'd
provide

the perfect reaction to Tony,
but the thing is catastrophic.

If she's in love with him,
he'll make her miserable,

and if she's not, it means that
she's embarked

on a career
like your mother's.

And that, for Linda,
would be very bad indeed.

No money either, of course.

And she needs money.

She should have it.

What are they living on?

Very little.

Linda has a small allowance
from Uncle Matthew, I believe.

I suppose Christian makes
something from his journalism.

I hear the Kroesigs are saying

there is one good thing...
she's bound to starve.

Oh, they are, are they?

Can I, um...

have that new address
of Linda's, please?

Thank you.

I'm on my way to London, now.

See what you've done
to your mother?

On top of all this wretched
business of Jassy.

Divorce, indeed.

We Radletts believe in sticking.

Married is married,
and once is enough.

There's never been a divorce
before in this family.

There will be now, Fa!

Got you, my lad!

Another sewer of a journalist,

hanging around for news
of your sister.

You, Victoria, go
and get my entrenching tool!

I once beheaded eight
journalists

with that entrenching tool!

With this scraggly little neck,
we'll have yours off in one!

No, my lord!

Then be off with you,
or the entrenching tool it is

if I catch you
round here again.

So you understand this, miss.

You'll now be driven
to Oxford Station

and away from this house
forever.

Oh!

When Linda came to see me before
catching a train from Oxford,

the first thing she asked for...
most unlike her...

was a drink.

Goodness, I'd forgotten how
terrifying Fa can be.

Poor mummy looked
simply miserable.

She was furious, too.

Accused me of betraying
and deserting Moira.

When I told her that I was

already in Christian's flat,
she nearly exploded.

In their book, I'm absolutely
the Scarlet Woman from now on.

How are you getting on
in the flat?

Oh, how dreadful it is.

Especially the cooking.

That oven, and the cruel,
hot blast

hitting you in the face
when you open it.

I don't wonder people sometimes
put their heads in there

and leave them there
out of sheer misery.

No more about all that,
darling, please.

What about Tony,
how is he taking it?

He's awfully pleased, actually,
because now

he can marry Pixie Townsend
without being the guilty party

and upsetting
the Conservative Association.

And Christian is heaven.

He's a frightfully serious
Communist, you know.

And so am I now.

We're surrounded by comrades
all day

and they're terrific Hons.

Yes, darling, but what about
Christian?

Perfect heaven, darling.

You must come and stay.

Or perhaps that wouldn't be
very comfortable.

Come and see us.

I do hope he cares
for you.

Well, I think he does.

He just is very strange
and absentminded.

What are your plans?

He says he's going to marry me
when I'm divorced.

That's one thing he seems
quite clear about.

I think it's rather silly.

I agree with daddy that
once is enough.

Though I mean it
differently, of course.

The thing is it will be bliss

not to be called Kroesig
anymore.

So, what with this and that,
it's getting us down a bit.

There's no arguing with Linda,
you know that.

Once she gets a man
into her head

as she did with
that damn Kroesig

and now this bloody Talbot...

She'll have him if
the rest of us rot for it.

But there's one thing
we can get straight.

Jassy.

Any word from Hollywood?

No. Now you've finished this
damn silly cure of yours

and not writing another book,
we want you to go find her.

You're the only chap I know who
could bring it off.

Madly inconvenient,
just as I've started

on this new course
of cure.

But of course I'll go, Matthew,
in all the circumstances.

But there will be
one tiny delay.

That's all right, Davey,
busy fellow and all that.

You see, if I have to cross the
Atlantic, and all of America,

I must have a new medical chest
run up.

The old one's quite worn out.

You know, traveling
is so debilitating.

And who knows what germs
they may have in Hollywood?

Damn fellow you are.
Think of everything, don't you?

I'm very sorry, my lord, but
you're wanted on the telephone.

Tell them I'm still
at dinner.

It's Lady Alconleigh,
my lord.

She better have something
worth saying.

Petry, could you please
telephone

Throstle and Thruss,
the cabinetmakers,

and make an appointment for me
with old Mr. Throstle

for 3:00 tomorrow afternoon?

Very good, Captain Warbeck.

Thank you.

Hmm.

Compartment for apparatus.

Another for powders.

Soothe and, if necessary,
seal the bowels.

Rack... for bottle of
concentrated lime juice.

In case of scurvy
onboard ship.

Ah, memo.

Some left over from cruise.

Ample compartment for
snake bite serum.

And antidotes to wounds caused
by poisoned arrows, et cetera.

Even more ample compartment

for bottles of brandy
and whiskey.

Medicinal, of course.

For when I'm crossing
teetotal states.

[Sighs]

Uh, drawer for
anti-sex tablets.

Stop me making a fool of myself
over those film stars.

Hmm.

Oh, my goodness, Matthew dear.
You do look peculiar.

It's young Matt.

Mm-hmm.

His tutor rang up Sadie
from Eton.

He's gone.

He's gone to fight in Spain.

At least that's what all his
friends at Eton say.

Can you beat that?

Which side?

What does it matter?
Bloody foreigners on both sides!

The point is, Davey,
the point is

the boy's got off his arse
and has gone off to fight.

So here's his health.

In bumpers!

Porter.
It's so acid-making.

But just this once,
I do see.

Young Matt.

Young Matt.

Damn his eyes!