Original subtitles

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!