Original subtitles

(Bell rings)

(Bell rings and fades)

(Gentle organ music)

How nice to see you. Bye-bye.

Good morning, Ned. Good morning, Rector.

Thank you again for mending the church clock.

Any time, Rector. Any time.

Oh, my goodness! Is it that late?

I must have been rather carried away by my sermon.

Good morning, Rector. Spring is almost upon us.

Yes, indeed, Miss Frobisher. As I said in my sermon...

Good morning, Rector. Lovely sermon for length.

Such a pity Mr DeVere wasn't in church to hear it.

Yes, I suppose he does know that as the new squire

he is churchwarden and chairman of the church council?

If he doesn't, he will.

I'll see that he is in church next Sunday.

Thank you, Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton.

Well, really, Marjory!

You'd think he'd take the trouble to turn up on his first Sunday.

I felt such a fool.

Well, I thought you read the lesson beautifully.

Yes, I suppose I did all things considered.

But nobody should be expected to pronounce it without at least three days' notice.

I'd liked to have heard what Mr DeVere would have made of it.

Some kind of meatloaf, probably.

Do you realise, the Rector's sermon on stewardship was entirely for his benefit?

How do you know that the Rector was getting at Mr DeVere?

Because I fold him to.

DeVere has been here a whole week and hasn't shown interest in anything, not even the farm.

Morning, Miss Fforbes. Ned.

Could you call in at the Old Lodge and look at my longcase clock?

The Webster again, is it?

It "bings" when it should "bong", and generally sounds very unhappy.

They don't like changing houses. Upsets them.

Yes, I know how it feels.

I'll see what I can do. Thank you.

Marjory, will you take Ned to the Old Lodge and tell Brabinger to put the coffee on?

Well, where are you going? To see Mr DeVere,

and remind him of his Sabbath duties.

Ah, thank you.

Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was you.

I mean... Well, it's so early. It's nearly 11 o'clock.

Is it? I didn't realise it was that early.

Well, are you coming in? You're wearing your pyjamas.

Don't worry. I expect we can find some for you. Come in.

Well...please sit down.

I could rustle up a mug of instant coffee. No, thank you.

Mother's not up yet. I'm fending for myself. Haven't you anyone to look after you?

Yes. All the people I took over from you, but not a sign of them this morning.

Of course not. They were in church.

Oh. You should have been there as well.

Why? What happened? A lot of things, since you ask.

For one thing, we prayed for you. If I'd have known, I'd have shaved.

And the Rector gave a few words of welcome to you

and preached a sermon on stewardship and duty just for you.

That's all right. I'm used to being talked about behind my back.

But instead of discharging your manorial duties, like reading the lesson and taking the collection,

you were sitting here in your pyjamas, reading the newspaper.

You should have been in church. But it's Sunday.

This is the only chance I get to find out what's going on in the world.

If you'd been in church, you'd know what's going on in the world.

We also prayed for an earth tremor in Afghanistan.

Good Lord! It looks as though your prayers were answered.

You didn't put in a few words for share prices for Cavendish Foods, did you?

No, you didn't.

You won't find anything about real life in the newspaper.

Unless you look at the nature column. You're not listening.

Sorry. I'm trying to think of a word meaning, "Dance before the Post Horn Gallop."

What? Crossword.

We were talking about you not going to church. Foxtrot.

I beg your pardon.

"Dance before the Post Horn Gallop." Foxtrot.

Don't change the subject. We were discussing your not going to church.

But I'm not religious. Religion doesn't come into it.

It's what happens after church that matters. There's work to be done here.

We don't spend our Sundays driving to a lay-by for a barbecue.

It's Spring. One of our busiest times.

There's the lambing to attend to, the Spring sowing and tree-planting.

There are 1,001 jobs I've noticed need doing and someone has got to give the instruction.

Well, give me a chance to find my feet.

The top lake needs draining.

It's full of stolen supermarket trolleys that your customers have dumped.

Really? If I was still in charge, all this would be done.

Well, I'm waiting for Bob-A-Job week.

No, sorry.

I suppose I'll just have to find things out as I go along.

Well...is there anything you want to know?

Yes, one thing. What?

What's a vessel for the fastidious?

Something, something something, something, something, O, something.

I don't do the junior crossword, Mr DeVere.

Fusspot! What?

Fusspot.

Vessel for the fastidious. Fusspot.

(Mechanism whirs and clock mis-chimes)

Ah So that's where my screwdriver got to.

I've missed it this past two year.

Now try it.

(Cuckoo-like chime)

So sorry to keep you waiting. Is it mended?

Hospital case, I'm afraid, Mrs Fforbes. I'l have to take him in.

Well, I'm sure you know best, Ned. Brabinger, will you help Ned with the Webster?

Do I smell coffee? In the drawing room, madam.

Oh, thank you. Marjory?

Oh, isn't that lovely?

Mr DeVere actually offered me a cup of instant coffee,

and in a mug, too.

I often have instant coffee in a mug.

Yes, I dare say you do, Marjory.

In your case, there's some excuse. You live on your own...

and such lapses go unnoticed.

Well, Mr DeVere lives on his own.

No, he doesn't. He lives with his mother and a small household staff.

Besides, he's Lord of the Manor and should set an example.

(Clock clangs)

Do you think it's wise letting Ned repair the Webster?

Why not? He's always done our clocks. And they're always breaking down.

If I were to take that clock into a shop in Maribury,

they'd try to persuade me to throw it away and buy a Quartz Digital Teasmade.

There's hardly a clock in the neighbourhood he hasn't broken.

What about that clock at Marbury St Nicholas he mended?

Must be the only church clock with a cuckoo in it.

If you don't give him the work, he'll never get better.

He's been doing it for 37 years.

There you are. You can't expect him to get it right first time.

The point is, he is old Grantleigh.

His actual ability to do the job doesn't come into it.

He's always available.

Very respectful. Nothing is too much trouble to him.

He's polite and he's cheap.

(Clock clangs)

You don't change custom just because you feel like it.

That's the sort of thing Mr DeVere would do.

How did you get on with him?

Oh, I told him a thing or two.

In fact, I read him the riot act.

I hope you weren't too severe. You don't want to blow your chances of...well, you know.

I won't have anything to do with a man who doesn't go to church on Sunday

and appears to have absolutely no interest in farming.

Oh, dear. Does that mean he's turning out to be not quite so convenient as you thought?

No, Marjory, it doesn't.

Of course, he's quite beyond the pale at the moment,

but that doesn't mean he can't be moulded into something more suitable.

How are you going to do that?

I can't pretend it will be easy.

You can't squeeze 400 years of tradition into a few months without problems.

But with a bit of luck I shan't have to do it entirely unaided.

Who's going to help you? His mother.

Why should she help? She wants to be well thought of locally.

I find her quite charming.

She's not one of us, of course, and never will be.

But at least she knows the difference between silver and EPNS.

Really, Bedrich, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Why? What have I done? It is what you have not done.

You have not had your bath. You have not shaved.

You have not dressed. And then you invite a lady into the house.

I couldn't leave her on the doorstep.

You should have been ready for her.

At 11 o'clock on a Sunday morning? At any time.

I didn't move in here to be badgered by all and sundry.

She is not "all and sundry". She's Audrey Fforbes-Hamilton.

And I'm Richard DeVere.

Oh, yes, you're a very successful man.

But underneath Richard DeVere of Cavendish foods,

you are Bedrich Polouvicka.

I'm not ashamed of that, Mother. Of course not. That is not what I'm saying.

Anyway, what's underneath Audrey Fforbes-Hamilton?

All the other Fforbes-Hamiltons.

Right back for 400 years.

I have been looking round the church.

You should see the plaques all over the walls.

Admirals, generals, ambassadors...

Important people, Bedrich.

Yes, no doubt descended from land thieves, cattle rustlers and court prostitutes.

Sometimes you are so stupid.

Can't you understand that she has got roots?

All you've got is money.

And what do you do?

You give her instant coffee.

It's very good instant coffee.

It's my own brand.

Go upstairs and make yourself presentable. Why? Is she coming back?

The way you treated her, you would be lucky if she ever comes back.

Want to bet?

Upstairs! Yes, Mother.

The most depressing thing about leaving the Manor is that I don't get invitations any more.

Nobody seems to want us single women.

The mantelpiece up there positively bristled with stiffies.

All those gilt-edged cards asking us to Ascot and Henley and Goodwood.

To think I won't be going to Glyndebourne this year, and I did so enjoy it.

Apart from having to sit through those interminable operas.

You've got two cards. That's two more than I've got.

You're welcome to them.

One is an invitation to patronise Phone-A-Car Cabs

and the other's a real social highlight - an offer to solve my drain problem.

You've written "refused" on them. Wouldn't you?

That Mr DeVere's got a lot to answer for.

I can't see how you can blame him, Aud.

Before he moved in, I was in demand.

Now see what I've got to look forward to.

The Muslim new year and high tide at Aberystwyth.

Nothing to wear for either.

No, that's where my invitations have gone to. To that man at the Manor.

Do you think he might need a consort?

I won't consort with a man who shirks his responsibilities.

Give him a chance, Aud. He's only just moved in.

But there's work to be done now, Marjory, and I told him.

Look out there. It's Spring.

If he had any flair for farming, he would be out there working,

as would anyone who was at one with the rhythm of the earth

and the changing seasons.

Oh, how my heart skips with every winter calf

feeling the softness of meadow grass for the first time.

Oh, how my soul leaps for joy

with the bleat of every new-born lamb,

with every egg which hatches

and with every creature feeling the first warmth of a sunbeam at the end of a long winter.

Audrey, how wonderful! Did you tell him all that?

No. I just read it in The Countryman's nature column.

They're my sentiments precisely.

And it is my intention to have DeVere feeling the same, and going to church.

I promised the Rector I would deliver him next Sunday, and deliver him I shall.

How are you going to do that? Never you mind.

May I clear the coffee, madam? Yes, thank you, Brabinger.

Well...let's do the crossword.

There's nothing like a little intellectual stimulus on a Sunday morning.

Indeed, madam.

Come along, Marjory.

"Dance before the Post Horn Gallop." Seven letters.

-Ah... Don't tell us, Brabinger.

Yes. Of course.

Of course. Fusspot.

Isn't that what you were going to say, Brabinger?

No, madam. I was quite wrong.

I was thinking it might be...foxtrot.

But I won't be ordered about, Mother.

But she knows far more about this place than you do.

That doesn't mean I have to go to church and the other things.

Really, Bedrich, sometimes you are so high-handed.

There is a saying in old Czechoslovakia:

"He who sits on the highest pinnacle still sits on his own backside."

What's that supposed to mean?

It means that a little humility might go a long way.

Never forget where you have come from or where you are going to.

She has connections.

She might be very useful to you.

Yes, but if I take orders from her now, I'l never get her off my back.

"Do this. Do that. Drain the lake."

Is that all she told you to do?

Well, it's all I can remember.

Then do it.

After all, she wants to be real sure that you mean to do right by this place.

Mother, I give the orders round here! Not her.

I'm the boss. -Do it.

Yes, Mother.

And another thing...

I think you might invite her to dinner.

It would be very nice for me.

I think she and I have much in common.

I wonder if she knits.

Mother, I don't think this is very wise.

-Doit. Yes, Mother.

Farmer DeVere, I presume.

There's more to farming than dressing up for it, you know.

(Laughs)

Sir.

Afternoon. Ned, isn't it?

That's right, sir. Been Ned as long as I can remember.

First it were Young Ned.

Then it were just Ned.

Now it's Old Ned.

Yes. Well, it comes to us all in the end, I suppose.

That it do, sir.

(Birdsong) Sounds like rain.

How can you tell? No, don't tell me.

Clouds.

Bird formation?

Cows lying down?

No.

You said it sounded like rain. I know.

You heard it on the wind. No, sir. I heard it on the weather forecast.

So you be from London, then, sir? Yes, that's right.

Ah, went there once myself. Never took to it.

All them crowds. People jostling in the street.

Place full of foreigners. Filthy air.

And the traffic! Oh!

When was that? -1926.

If you're looking for Mrs Fforbes, sir, her be up by the bridge, over the brook.

Oh. Right.

Hooray! I've won!

Have you been following me?

No.

Then why, when we've got a thousand acres in which to ignore one another,

do we end up in the same square yard?

Fate?

Fate's lived on this estate long enough to know it's way about.

What are you doing? Thinking.

I'm trying to fix the estate in my memory, in its ideal form, before it goes to wrack and ruin.

No, I didn't mean that. I mean, what's this...

that you're doing on the bridge? Oh, here?

Yes. On the bridge?

Yes. Waiting for Alec Guinness.

Now you're here, you'd better be Piglet.

I'm sorry? Piglet?

I'l be Pooh. I was Eeyore last time.

Well, what's this? Pooh sticks.

What's...Pooh sticks?

Pooh sticks. It's a game we always used to play here.

Invented by Winnie-the-Pooh. The who?

Oh, glory.

To think that Grantleigh is in the hands of a man who has no interest in farming,

doesn't go to church and now it turns out - hasn't heard of Winnie-the-Pooh.

You think AA Milne is a motoring organisation, I suppose?

Come on.

Throw.

Ah, what a shame. Yours must have got caught up in something.

What do you mean mine? It's yours that didn't come through. I've won.

No. That's my Pooh stick.

No, it's not. Yes, it is.

It is not. Yes, it is.

I remember it distinctly.

Typical.

Not only do you miss church and fail in all your other duties,

but you cheat in Pooh sticks.

I do not cheat.

And I won't fail in my duties either.

You've been here a whole week and you haven't done a thing.

Oh, no?

Ahl So you've drained the lake.

Hallelujah. Well, i's a start.

So...your first act as a farmer.

No, my last as a grocer. We needed the trolleys.

Now look what you've done.

Because I didn't go to church on Sunday?

Make a dash for it. Right. Your place or mine?

Mine.

Well, here we are.

Yes, here we are. Only, this isn't your place, it's mine.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry.

Force of habit. I suppose I'm trespassing.

That's all right. I won't prosecute.

This is one of the wettest counties in England.

I don't mind, so long as it doesn't shrink.

I didn't pay nearly a million to end up owning a bonsai bowling green.

That's right. Do sit down. Thank you.

I want to talk to you. What about?

Well, on the bridge just now, you said you were thinking.

-Did I? -Mm.

I'd be interested to know... what you were thinking about.

Nothing.

Is there any harm in savouring the joys of Spring?

I'm just enjoying the feeling that in spite of the circumstances,

God may still be in his heaven.

That is except for ten o'clock on Sunday mornings when he is in church.

You're still brooding about that, are you? No.

It's just that there are some of us left

who are at one with the rhythms of the earth and the changing of the seasons.

If you knew how my heart leaps with every winter calf...

..enjoying meadow grass for the first time.

How my soul skips for joy...

with the bleat of every egg that hatches.

And with every creature feeling a sunbeam at the end of Winter...on his back.

That's very poetic.

Yes, the estate still inspires me to these spontaneous outbursts.

My sentiments precisely. Don't worry. With me in charge, everything will be in it's place.

Sheep in the meadow. Cows in the corn. That's what I'm afraid of, Mr DeVere.

The cows shouldn't be in the corn.

Well, there you are. I still have so much to learn about the country.

I's such a mystery to me. What's a mystery?

Well...

For example, this morning I saw some cows in a field with a bull.

Yes? He was with all the cows he could want.

Well? And he was eating.

If you can't talk sensibly, I shall leave. No... Don't do that.

I'll come straight to the point. I want to talk about our honeymoon.

I beg your pardon?

Our honeymoon.

A political honeymoon.

Like 100 trouble-free days of settling in.

I don't understand. I want a truce.

Room for manoeuvre.

You've made your position very clear. You resent me.

You resent my circumstances and background as opposed to yours.

You resent my having the Manor. Well, that I understand.

Now let me make my position clear.

I'm not going to let this place disintegrate.

But to make a go of it, I could do with your help

as much as I could do without your hostility and barracking.

I may not be what you want for the Manor,

but you're not altogether what I need as a neighbour.

But we're stuck with each other

and so we have to decide which way things are going to go.

-And... Mr DeVere...

How would you like to have dinner here on Saturday?

Yes, I'd love to. Thank you.

If you would like to come to church with me on Sunday.

It's a deal.

And on Saturday, you can tell me in a nice, relaxed way...

exactly how you do things in the country.

That would be lovely.

And on Sunday, you will read the second lesson.

What about the first lesson? I shall read it to show you how it's done.

I tell you, Mother, I've got her in the palm of my hand.

Right there. Just where I want her.

Wasn't I right? Yes, Mother. Surrender.

Total unconditional surrender.

Whose? Hers! Well, you know me.

I'm the one who runs things round here.

Now, let me see. Matthew, Chapter 19.

Hm? I'm reading the lesson in church tomorrow.

Oh. C413 "I tell you this. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle

than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."

Do you think she chose that deliberately?

You should not joke about such things.

I wouldn't put it past her.

But by the time I've got this place sorted out, I won't be a rich man.

Mother? -Mm?

What are you doing?

Red wine is supposed to be chambréd.

It's the champagne that...

Oh, my God!

Oh! Oh!

(Cork pops)

Well, that's an expensive way of keeping the sparrows off the vegetables.

Weaken their resistance with a taste of the high life.

Mother, remember - chill champagne, warm red wine.

I shouldn't bother.

I don't think she's coming.

She's very late. She's trying to see what she can get away with.

She won't get away with this. (Bell)

Ah.

Now, straighten yourself up, Bedrich. Oh, Mother!

Oh, Mother... Please don't call me Bedrich in front of her.

No.

Oh, how very nice to see you. Nice to see you.

Nice of you to come out in this cold weather.

Thank you. Good evening.

Mr DeVere...yours, I think.

Oh, sorry. I should think so. It got poor Brabinger.

I'm sorry I'm late. 40 minutes, to be precise.

My clock's being repaired. Brabinger and I are both at sixes and sevens.

Besides, it's polite to be 20 minutes late.

But you're 40 minutes late. I'm just doubly polite.

Take Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton's coat.

Oh, I'm sorry. Oh! What a beautiful dress.

Well, serve the champagne, Bedrich.

Champagne? Are we celebrating?

Yes, I hope we're toasting the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership.

Who knows? To the future of Grantleigh Estate, anyway. It's not so controversial.

I'll drink to that.

To the student farmer. (Laughs) I'll drink to that, too.

To the rhythm of the earth and the changing of the seasons.

Down the hitch.

Will you sit down?

Ooh, I see you've been practising.

Oh, yes, you'll find that I keep my side of any bargain.

I'm afraid you've been wasting your time. Why?

We don't use the New English Bible. Does that matter?

Of course. The Bible in the church has been in use for hundreds of years.

We don't need this newfangled version.

Besides, I object to having my favourite stories read out in Civil Service jargon.

Traditions are important.

You'd prefer your services in Latin?

What would be the point of that? Tradition. Your church was built when?

1366.

I've been looking at the list of Vergers. Rectors.

It's old enough to have started with its services in Latin.

If tradition is so important, why change to English?

It was probably something to do with the people who were here before us.

The point is, since we've been here - a little matter of 400 years -

the services have been conducted in the proper way, according to the King James Bible.

We don't have any truck with this new form of service,

any more than we would expect the Rector to call himself a team vicar and be known as Pete.

I think we ought to go in and eat.

It's all right, Mother. I'll be a good boy.

And I promise you that tomorrow morning I'll read the lesson as to the Manor born.

And I promise you that I shall be there to see that you do.

(Clock chimes) Shh.

Your Webster is back, madam.

Yes, it is. Is it working properly? In every way, madam.

Good.

Did you have a good evening with Mr DeVere?

Yes, thank you, Brabinger.

Did you put him right on a few things, madam?

Now, you be careful what you say about Mr DeVere, Brabinger.

I beg your pardon.

I've heard some very unkind and unjust things said about him in this house.

But I... I've never said a word against him, madam, ever.

Maybe, but you have listened.

I want no more of it.

Well, church in the morning.

Good night, Brabinger. Good night, madam.

(Church organ plays)

Thank you for seeing to the clock, Ned.

How pleasant to see you in church, Mr DeVere.

Thank you for reading the lesson so well.

Oh... Yes, wasn't he super, Rector?

Do you know, for the first time I heard every word.

Oh.

Good morning. You stood me up. What's happened?

Ah, there's always one...

on the morning the clocks go forward.

I never thought it would be you, Mrs Fforbes-Hamilton.

The clocks go forward, did you say?

Well, ours did. Thanks to Ned.

(Bell rings and fades)

It doesn't sound too happy about it.

Fancy you of all people forgetting, Audrey.

Yes, of all people. Someone who's so at one with the rhythms of the earth

and the changing of the seasons. Dear, oh, dear.

I bet this is the first time in 400 years there hasn't been a Fforbes-Hamilton in church.

That's where you're wrong, Mr DeVere.

If you had looked carefully, you'd have seen that the church is stuffed with Fforbes-Hamiltons.