Original subtitles

Good morning, Rector.

Oh, well, hardly good, Miss Frobisher.

Will this winter never end?

I'd heard the old lodge had been sold.

Any idea who's bought it? None at all.

But I hope to see some new faces in church.

And up at the manor.

Yes.

You're on your way to the manor, are you?

Yes, I promised Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton I'd go and help her pack.

Ah.

Never did I think to see the day.

Oh, the last of the Fforbes-Hamiltons leaving Grantleigh.

I could weep.

Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning.

Are you sure?

Oh, yes. Quite sure.

I shall be able to choose the lessons and the hymns,

run the parish council,

nominate the church wardens.

Oh, yes, joy cometh in the morning.

But it's the end of an era.

Yes.

Mm.

Perhaps you'd tell Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton that I'll call in later and pay my last respects.

Do be careful, Brabinger. You mustn't carry anything heavy.

Just the old newspapers you wanted, madam.

And Miss Frobisher is here.

Oh, good. Ask her to come in. Very good, madam.

This way, madam. Hello, Marjory.

Just popped in to see if I could help at all. You're just in time.

Take those newspapers from Brabinger and put them over there.

Right. By the way, how is the back, Brabinger?

On the mend. Thank you, madam. Oh, good.

Brabinger's got his back trouble again.

Oh, what's he picked up this time? A billiard table.

He didn't move it all by himself?

Well, no. I don't think he actually moved it at all.

Shall I keep these?

Do you like them? Oh, decisions, decisions.

Heavens! This is an old school photograph, isn't it?

Oh, yes.

There's you!

(Both laugh)

Where are you?

Oh, there you are. Right at the end.

I don't think I've changed all that much.

No, that's just it. You haven't.

(Laughs) Who are you laughing at now?

You again. You're at the other end as well.

Oh, yes. I did it for a bet.

Didn't anyone notice?

Only Miss Prebble. I convinced her I was twins.

This is like being back at school, isn't it? All this packing.

You can hardly equate leaving Grantleigh with packing at school.

Oh, look. Here's a report on the sale.

"Supermarket King Buys Manor."

I don't want to hear it.

Read it to me.

"The ancestral home of the Fforbes-Hamiltons

has been bought by the chairman of Cavendish Foods, Mr Richard DeVere,

as a result of bankruptcy proceedings against the estate of the late Marton Fforbes-Hamilton."

How have they spelt that?

They've got the two small f's. Yes.

But how did they manage to get them into Hamilton?

"Self-made millionaire Richard DeVere

began his career on a fruit barrow in London's East End."

Oh, stop. I can't bear it.

To think that Grantleigh Manor has come to this.

Taken over by a costermonger.

He's not a costermonger now, is he? No, he's a grocer.

I suspected as much at Marton's funeral when he told me his wife had passed away.

I think you've been jolly lucky, Aud. This place could have been sold to anybody.

Instead of which you've got gorgeous Mr DeVere moving in to look after it for you.

One could look at it like that.

A sort of caretaker, keeping the place aired until I can get it back again.

What time is the caretaker arriving?

In about three hours. He'll be on his way now.

Mm. In his grocer's van full of French beans and Brussels sprouts.

Chin up, Aud. At least he's English.

This is just like 1939.

The day we left Czechoslovakia.

Oh, Mother.

Just the same as leaving home in '39.

I don't know what you mean.

I mean tearing up our roots and starting a new life all over again.

What are you doing on the wrong side of the road?

Mother, we're in the fast lane.

It is the wrong side.

No, Mother. This is the right side.

You should be on the left side.

It's perfectly all right, Mother.

We have been in England since 1939.

You think I don't know which side of the road they drive on? Move over!

Oh, Mother.

Move over, please.

Ye... Well...

Ye...

No, Mrs Proctor, I am unable to give you permission

to hold the pony club gymkhana on the home paddock this year.

You'll have to ask the new owner.

DeVere, yes.

No, only Mr.

I'm leaving today.

No, I'm not telling anyone where I'm going. Goodbye, Mrs Proctor.

And good luck to Mr DeVere with her.

Excuse me, madam. The removal men wish to clear this room now.

Very well. Send them in.

How far have you got, Brabinger?

Just clearing out the late master's study, madam.

Poor Brabinger. This has really knocked him for six.

He's been here all his life, you know.

He came as a lamp boy in... Well, I suppose it was when they still had lamps.

What very smart hats.

Thank you.

Now, before you start,

I want you to know that in this room there are some very old and very valuable pieces.

Now, I don't expect you to know Hepplewhite from Dralon.

But I do expect you to treat everything as if it were your own.

Well, carefully, anyway.

Now, you'd better start with what you would call that settee.

Right, Arthur. What we call a sofa first.

Cor, look at this.

When did you last see one of these, Arthur?

Not for yonks. Not in laburnum, anyway.

And certainly not oystered like that.

What about the bantam work, then?

What, early eighteenth, would you say?

Very early.

There's only one man did anything like that.

Yeah. Grinling Gibbons. Right.

Do you reckon Grinling Gibbons?

Soon see. There'll be a mark on it somewhere.

If there is a single mark on it anywhere, I'll sue your company for every penny they've got.

You say the same thing every time we move.

Well, I'm tired of moving.

When we left Shoreditch for Finchley.

"It's just like leaving home in 39."

And then when we left Finchley for Hampstead, "It's just like leaving home in 39."

And then when we left Hampstead for Mayfair, same old story.

And now we're leaving Mayfair for our own country estate.

"It's just like leaving home in 39."

Keep your hands on the wheel.

You know what I mean.

I don't like leaving all my friends.

You hate all your friends.

One gets attached to them.

Well, don't worry.

In the country you'll find lots of new friends to hate.

It won't be the same.

Oh, Mother, it was your idea.

Well, it was for you.

So you wouldn't have to work so hard.

And so your mother could see something of you.

Well, there you are, then.

You're leaving of your own free will.

You're going to live in a gentleman's period residence

in the heart of the English countryside.

And all you can say is, "It's just like leaving home in 39."

-So it is. Oh, Mother...

How can you keep on saying it?

Well, you know what I mean.

To leave one's home for ever.

With only a handful of personal possessions.

All the Indian rubbish can be thrown away.

But surely you have some respect for Marton's years in India.

He was only there six months.

They sent him home after a disastrous embassy reception.

Why?

He told Nehru that his coat was buttoned up on the girls' side.

I'm sorry to say, the Fforbes-Hamiltons were not a success in the subcontinent.

But those are all family heirlooms.

We simply haven't got room.

This can go. Marton shot that.

Not far enough.

I've been trying to get rid of it for ages.

Every year it's the only thing to be returned from the white elephant stall.

We could leave it behind, madam.

Good idea, Brabinger.

I'm sure Mr DeVere will find it extremely tasteful.

It'll go nicely with his bowls of china fruit and blue water in the loo.

He'll be here soon. Yes, I know.

I want to slip away unnoticed without saying goodbye. I couldn't face that.

But, madam, I've instructed the staff to assemble at 11:50.

Oh, well, if you insist, Brabinger. Duty comes first.

Bring the car round to the front door. Very good, madam.

If can be of any help at this time of parting...

I don't think so, Rector.

The Indians have a saying, "Pray to God but row away from the rocks."

You pray, I'll row.

As I never cease to remind you in church,

"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."

And as I never cease to remind you, Rector, the meek don't want it.

Goodbye, Mrs Beecham. I shall miss your dumplings.

Goodbye, Millie. If there's one thing I've taught you,

let it be that you don't open tins of instant coffee with the best silver.

Goodbye, Ned. Good luck with your cucumbers.

Oh, thank you.

Goodbye, Linda.

Say goodbye to the horses for me.

Now, don't cry, Marjory.

It's not as if I'm leaving the country.

No, but you're leaving Grantleigh.

Yes, indeed.

The church clock is striking 13 again, Rector.

Have it seen to.

Brabinger, why are you dressed like Erich von Stroheim?

This is my chauffeur's uniform, madam.

I thought we should leave in style.

(Starts engine)

Oh, look.

They've stopped at the Old Lodge.

Oh, golly.

She hasn't bought it?

She must have.

Oh, the half was not told me.

I say!

Oh, thank you.

Good morning.

Welcome to your new home, Mr DeVere.

Well, thank you.

Um, I didn't expect all this.

This is most kind.

You should not have gone to all this trouble.

Brabinger.

In the kitchen, madam.

Yours, I think.

Thank you, madam.

I regret that we have to share the bathroom, Brabinger,

and I realise it's a new experience for both of us

but please try to ensure that our baths don't cross.

It won't happen again, madam.

What are you doing? Preparing your afternoon tea, madam.

Oh, lovely. I'll take it in the library.

The library! What am I saying?

That's where I should be.

Not here in this poky rabbit hutch.

There. That's where I belong.

And that's where I mean to be again one day.

(Doorbell)

Excuse me, but is the lady of the house at home?

Who should I say is calling?

Who is it, Brabinger?

I'm about to ascertain, madam.

If it's Jehovah's Witnesses, tell them that they're too late.

I'm from the manor.

Will you step inside?

Thank you.

One moment, please.

It's a lady from the manor.

I would hazard a guess, she's the new housekeeper.

How intriguing. Ask her to come in.

And then serve tea. Very good, madam.

Will you come this way, please, madam?

Do come in. Thank you.

I'm so sorry to be a nuisance.

But I wonder if I could borrow some sugar?

We have only just moved in next door.

And still a bit of a muddle.

I'm sure we can help, Miss...?

Mrs Polouvicka.

Do sit down, won't you, Mrs...

Polouvicka.

Thank you.

So...you look after Mr DeVere, do you?

Oh, yes. I do my best.

Your afternoon tea, madam. Thank you.

You will take tea with me, won't you? Oh, thank you.

Brabinger, Mrs...Poo would like some sugar.

In her bowl.

Silver! Such elegance.

One does one's best.

Just because one has to live in a rabbit hutch, one doesn't have to live like a rabbit.

I've only just moved in, as you know.

Oh, no, I didn't know.

Oh, so, here we are, all new together.

Well, actually...

Yes, all new together.

Oh, that's nice, isn't it?

Milk? Thank you.

Sugar? No, thank you.

I must confess, I didn't really need the sugar at all.

It was just an excuse to get to know you.

Thank you.

We must be good neighbours.

We will make this a really happy estate.

I was under the impression that it always was.

Ah, but being new here, you wouldn't know.

But the people that were in the manor before us, oh, stinkers!

Stinkers?

Absolutely, so they say.

Thank you.

Especially her. Who says?

Common knowledge. Common it may be, knowledge it is not.

It's idle gossip. I hope Mr DeVere realises that.

Oh, he knows how many beans make five.

Yes, well, he would, wouldn't he?

Well...

But, I mean, everybody around here knows how the place has been allowed to fall to pieces.

Really?

Thank you.

Have you come from far to live here?

Not far, no.

Oh. And your husband, what does he do?

I'm a widow. Oh, just like me.

We have so much in common.

Do you have a job? No.

Oh, well, never mind, my dear. I expect you will find one quite soon.

Your husband, what was he by trade?

By profession, he was a farmer.

Oh, well, I don't have to tell a farmer's wife

what a mess things have been allowed to get into around here.

But we have big plans to change all that.

You seem to be very well informed about Mr DeVere's intentions.

But of course!

He tells his mother everything.

His mother?

Oh, I'm sorry, I should have explained.

Bedrich is my son.

Who's Bedrich?

Mr DeVere.

But your name is Polou something.

Polouvicka.

We came over in 1939.

From Czechoslovakia.

But why does he call himself DeVere?

Well, he says it is easier to pronounce.

Also, it is more...

-.up... Upper-class.

No.

Upmarket.

So, Mr DeVere is Czechoslovakian.

Only half.

Well, at least that's something. His father was Polish.

Do you mean he isn't English at all?

But of course he is.

We have been neutralised.

He's as English as you or me.

Your sugar, madam.

Oh.

Keep it, with the compliments of Cavendish Foods.

Judge a beauty contest?

Where?

Maribury Agricultural Show.

Yes, I think I know what to look for in Miss Dairy Product.

Look, do you think you could confirm this in writing?

You see, I've only just moved in.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Ah. Oh, hello, Mother.

Have you been looking round the estate? Yes, and getting to know the neighbours.

Ah, the old sugar bow trick.

Well, who have you met?

Oh, a very nice lady at the Old Lodge.

Oh, I wondered who'd bought that.

A farmer's wife. Well, widow.

What's she like? Oh, 40, 50. Youngish, anyway.

What have you been doing? Well, trying to get some work done.

I've been expecting a call from Frankfurt but the line's been jammed with locals

who keep on ringing up about Girl Guide jamborees,

summer hunt balls, garden fetes, cricket matches.

Oh, and there's some terribly ferocious woman who keeps ringing up about a gymkhana.

You know, I think I'm going to need a social secretary.

Social secretary? Mm.

Someone local would be ideal.

The lady at the lodge.

She needs a job. She told me.

Is she the sort of woman who'd know what's what?

Oh, yes.

She has a silver tea service.

And she serves cucumber sandwiches you don't even have to open your mouth for.

(Laughs)

What's that got do do with it? Well, it means she has got pizzazz.

She's the sort of woman who wouldn't be intimidated?

Oh, yes, most certainly.

In that case I think I'll pop across and have a word with her.

Mother, do you think you could get rid of this monstrosity?

I can't stand the way it keeps staring at me with its jaws open.

It reminds me of my tax collector.

(Doorbell)

Is the lady of the house at home?

Oh, I'm afraid not, sir.

Oh. When will she be back?

I couldn't say, sir.

Is there any message?

Yes. Would you say Mr DeVere from the manor called and would appreciate a word with her.

Very good, sir.

Excuse me, haven't I seen you before?

It's possible, sir. I was butler at the manor until the recent contretemps.

Oh, yes, of course. Well, I'm glad to see you've found local employment.

Look, if you ever felt like coming back to the manor,

I could use a first-class butler.

It's very kind of you, sir, but the distances in that house was getting too much for me.

I will see that madam receives your message, Sir.

Thank you.

Anyone interesting, Brabinger?

Sorry, madam, I didn't know you were at home.

I wasn't. We just nipped in the back door.

Good boy, Bertie. Clean paws.

Brabinger, did you know that Mrs Proctor

had been refused permission to hold the gymkhana on the estate this year?

Oh, no, madam. -Mm.

Who was that at the door? Mr DeVere.

You mean Mr Polouvicka, the well known visitor to Britain.

What did he want?

He wanted to have a word with you, madam.

Did he say what language it might be in?

No, madam.

I think I'd like a word with him. In English.

Who does he think he is, riding roughshod over our pony club gymkhana?

Foreigners are all very well in their place.

But why does it have to be my place?

Sheep dog trials?

Oh, I see. You always hold them on the estate.

Do you think you could ring back in a week?

I'l have a social secretary then and she'll deal with this for you.

Thank you. Goodbye.

May I come in? Of course. Of course.

Make yourself at home.

Oh, sorry. I could have expressed that better, couldn't I?

It's just that it's so very pleasant to see you.

And so soon.

I've just been talking to Mrs Proctor.

Rather, Mrs Proctor has been talking to me.

Mrs Proctor? Pony club gymkhana.

Oh, that Mrs Proctor.

I understand you have refused to let them have the home paddock this year.

Yes. Obviously, it means nothing to you.

But the pony club gymkhana has been held in the home paddock since the year dot.

Since 1973, actually.

You don't seem to understand your position here.

You may have just bought a piece of English history

but you don't own anything.

Would you explain that?

The estate is simply in trust for your lifetime.

You are responsible for the continuance of its heritage, its traditions and its customs.

That includes the pony club gymkhana? Most certainly.

You have an obligation to the people who live here.

It's called noblesse oblige. I can't expect you to have heard of that. It's an English expression.

Clearly, it's time someone acquainted you with your duties as lord of the manor.

Oh. I'm lord of the manor, am I?

It's just a name. It doesn't give you the right to the virginity of the gamekeeper's twin daughters.

You're too late, anyway.

Are there no privileges at all? Oh, yes.

At Christmas you get the pick of the holly with the best berries on it.

Other than that, the job consists almost entirely of burdens and duties.

I am fully aware of my obligations. Except to the pony club.

Nobody's asked me about the pony club.

According to Mrs Proctor... I said, no-one had asked me.

I'd been told.

I don't like being told.

You'll just have to put up with it. Why should I?

Because you'll deprive a lot of people of a great deal of enjoyment.

There is such a word as "please". Not in Mrs Proctor's vocabulary.

The pony club's just the tip of the iceberg.

What about the flower show, shire horse parade, steam fairs?

Sheep-dog trials.

Caravan clubs.

People like you retire to the country expecting an easy life.

It is not easy at all.

No, I'm beginning to realise that. But everything's under control.

I'm going to get myself a social secretary.

I see. Well, I've got a business to run.

It would be far better if these events were controlled by somebody else.

Have you anyone in mind? Yes, I have.

My mother tells me that the woman who's moved into the Old Lodge might be suitable.

The Old Lodge? Yes.

Have you met her? I think I can say I've never actually "met" her.

But you've heard of her? Vaguely.

What do you know about her?

Oh, well, it seems that she's a farmer's wife. No, widow.

Aged about 40 10 50.

Is unlikely to be intimidated by Mrs Proctor.

And has plenty of pizzazz.

And what, may I ask, is pizzazz?

Pizzazz?

Well, it's...

It's something you'll have to ask my other about.

Yes, I certainly might.

When do you propose to meet this lady? As soon as possible.

I've been to the lodge and left a message.

Really?

Tell me, Mr DeVere, how can you be so sure that she'll want to do this job?

Simple. I'll make her an offer she can't refuse.

What sort of offer? Well, I'll make her welcome to the estate,

make her feel she belongs here.

"Belongs here." I see.

I think it's terribly important she should be made to feel she has a personal stake in the place.

Fascinating.

Then what? Then I'll take her some flowers,

give her a house-warming present, invite her in for drinks,

send a couple of chaps over to straighten up her garden

and put her in the picture. Supposing she doesn't like the picture.

The way I paint it, she'll jump at it.

You're very confident, Mr DeVere.

You haven't even met her.

If I decide that she's right for the job, I bet you she's working for me within the week.

How much? What?

How much will you bet? £50. (Chuckles)

I don't like taking money from a woman.

Splendid. That means I can't lose.

It's a bet. Done.

I can't believe he's not English.

Well, he's not. His real name is Bedrich Polouvicka.

And he comes from Czechoslovakia.

And Poland.

But he's so gentlemanly.

It's all a facade. Underneath he is no more a gentleman than you are.

Brabinger, what is that thing doing here? It's just arrived, madam.

But you left it behind deliberately.

I blame myself, madam. I should have disposed of it more efficiently.

How did it get here? Mrs Polouvicka brought it, madam.

She said it was a house warming present.

Oh, did she?

Throw it out. You can't do that?

Why not? It's a present.

How can it be a present? It was mine to start with.

Mrs Thingummy doesn't know that.

You don't want to offend her.

She hasn't been very complimentary about me.

Brabinger, try and break it when you're dusting.

Very good, madam. (Doorbell)

Oh, excuse me, madam.

Ah, good evening, sir.

Has the lady of the house returned yet? Will you step inside, please, sir?

I will ascertain.

Are you at home, madam?

-Who is it? Mr DeVere.

Show him in.

I'm going to enjoy this.

Are you? Why? You'll see.

Mr DeVere.

Good evening, Mr DeVere.

Oh. Hello, again.

You've met Miss Frobisher?

Oh, yes. Good evening.

Yes.

Good evening.

Have you come to see anyone in particular?

Yes, the lady of the house.

Um, is she about?

Do you mean the 50-year-old farmer's widow with plenty of pizzazz?

Yes, but there's no need to let her hear that description.

I'm afraid you're too late.

What are you talking about? I think Mr DeVere knows.

You see, this is my house.

What?

She bought the Old Lodge, didn't tell a soul.

You mean, you're the person my mother came to see?

Yes. But...

why didn't you say so?

I mean, you just let me go on and on.

Getting in deeper and deeper. Yes.

And you're going to be living here, 200 yards from my front door?

Yes.

You can see right into the manor from here. Yes.

You'll be breathing down my neck. Yes.

Watching everything I do. Not quite everything.

Well, since you are here, what about becoming my social secretary?

No, thank you.

Sure? Certainly.

Oh. Well, in that case I'l just go and look elsewhere.

Aren't you forgetting something? You owe me £50.