Original subtitles

That I, Mathilde Suffolk-Finch of Hunderby

leave my estate, in its entirety to my only son,

Edmund Suffolk-Finch of Hunderby. (WEEPING)

On the sole condition that a child be born to him

within a year of my death.

If no heir to Hunderby is born within this year,

the estate shall be sold up and the proceeds lavished

on an underwater monument to the drowned dead of the Bethany Rose.

Am I? Am I not remembered?

Dorothy. Dorothy Mellis.

No.

♫ "Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise" - Walter Chalmers Smith

♫ Immortal, invisible, God only wise

♫ In light inaccessible hid from our eyes

♫ Most blessed, most glorious, the Ancient of Days

♫ Almighty, victorious,

♫ Thy great name we praise. ♫

Now.

Our goodly sisters, Dorothy and Biddy, would have me remind you

that this month's healing ring is to be held here today at noon,

at noon.

And finally.

We do humbly ask our Father God that myself

and my wife be blessed with a child before the year is through.

Please God.

We pray for the guidance of our Lord's gentle fist.

For every child is born a filthy savage

smeared in Satan's faeces.

Come, come now tortoise mouth There is work to be done

Sorry, these balls are quite big.

I shall prepare myself upstairs.

Biddy was up three nights rendering that beef.

Perhaps Mistress does not want a child so very much?

I do.

Perhaps she wishes us all to be cast from Hunderby?

No, no.

Helene!

Helene!

(VIGOROUS MOANING)

Edmund?

Edmund.

What?

Tis not in.

There.

Oh, Edmund. Tis on my leg.

Bubbly milk Sir? Please.

Which unfortunate's amongst us

is first that seeketh succour?

You again.

We do beseech thee, Father God,

to unleash from bald David,

the evil ones that have eaten

all of his hair.

We humbly ask thee.

To fill each and every hole

of poor David's demon-dented scalp.

By the bounty of your Holy Fur.

(ALL) Heal him.

Hair him.

Heal him. Hair him.

Heal him. Hair him.

Still nothing?

How's Ruth?

Not well.

There is much clumping here.

Perhaps you have been burdened of late?

I must confess the contents of my mother's will were most unexpected.

Ah, yes.

And how goes the creation of your son and heir?

May I speak plainly?

Of course.

I fear my wife may be, erm...

abnormal...

below.

In what way, brother?

I have noted, within her haired canoe a...

kind of growth not unlike a dangling bell.

Yes, my wife Ruth has oft mentioned this.

It is said to send women mad.

You may recall the Smithers sisters?

The balding spinsters of Puddybutt Lane?

Aye sir, both were said to have these bells below

and were quite unable to leave theirs alone.

May God rest their souls.

They would itch at them like mice at a wall, squealing and whooping,

as if Satan himself were riding their lungs.

Yes, perhaps their murder was a blessing in disguise.

Well, bell or no bell,

too often do my attempts at congress with Helene leave me

with a flopping flute.

With Ruth I oft times place a pillow gently o'er her face

and conjure up a more stimulating scene.

Something else?

Or someone.

There's no harm in it, dear brother.

For marriage is lengthy.

Yes.

♫ Clean her chimney of Satan's wood

♫ So a babe grows hand and foot

♫ Make him large and give ye room

♫ Strong and fat!

♫ And ready to boom

♫ Boom, boom from her thighs

♫ Boom, boom,

♫ Tears in her eyes. ♫

Ah, Mistress Helene.

Hesther. Excuse me.

I too was teary after my first time in Dorothy's ring.

Have you been at all healed?

No, but since God saw fit to mow me down on my wedding night,

and leave me numb from face to foot,

I must believe I have been chosen as a continuous beacon of suffering.

I'm sorry.

But dear Helene, I am certain your womb will ripen

all the more for having Dorothy's holy hand upon it.

Thank you. I truly hope so. My husband's fortune depends on it.

And I should dearly love a child.

So should I,

but alas.

Tis no shame to be unwed.

Oh no. God blessed me with a most steadfast and saintly husband.

Oh?

I shall ne'er give him a child,

nor any mortal pleasure, yet he tarries with me, day on day,

year on year and only death shall tear us asunder.

Oh, Graham.

Doctor Foggerty is your...

Yes.

Come now, slug legs. There is work to be done.

Good day to you, crippled Hesther.

Oh, Mistress Helene. Your kerchief.

Oh, why.

Tis my husband's.

Hesther.

Oh, Graham, spurge and boomrape.

My favourites.

I have taken the liberty of furnishing

a nursery in readiness for an heir.

Oh thank you, Dorothy.

Baby should sleep in silence for 14 hours straight through.

If he can be heard crying it's because Satan has

clambered into his cot and he's best left to fight it out.

Well you certainly have the woman's touch.

There we are, maam.

Biddy's battered bone buns,

to toughen your nipples for suckling,

with a marrowfat ointment, to grease your chute.

Thank you.

This yours, maam?

Oh, yes...

I must have dropped it.

"Lizbeth," maam?

A middle name, tis short for

Elizabeth.

And the pregnant-backed gentleman?

He, oh of course, my brother.

He died a leper

hence my mission to the leper colony.

Well, let us pray this family hump does not surface in your own

child like some great unwelcome whale.

Ah, Helene!

Oh.

Brother Joseph has suggested a biblical scenario

to enliven our somewhat fruitless conjunctions.

You shall be playing Job.

The hessian Wednesday sack and tawny knickerbocker.

Yes, if you don those and then take up a prayer position.

I shall join you presently as...

Jehovah raining down punishments from on high.

(VIGOROUS MOANING)

Even as Job you turn me to cushion.

Now you are a true gentleman's valet, Geoff.

This livery suits your complexion very well.

A coffee bean in

velvet custard.

No, the silken stockings go on before the britches, Geoff.

Dorothy. How is a man to enjoy his egg with you

flapping a gory rag at his face?

I thought you would wish to know, as time is trickling away, Sir,

Satan's jam hath once again burst her bristled button.

(SMASH) Ow!

Good day, Sir, Mad...

But your cheek?

Tis bruised.

She is most clumsy.

Tis like living with a bull in skirts.

A lard salve shall halt the purpling.

It is not her face I wish you to examine, Doctor, but her womb.

I'm sure my womb is well, Sir.

Then why does it weep, Helene?

Month upon month its vicious red tears?

I insist, Doctor,

that you investigate her uterus this very minute.

I believe my hand may be a little warmer than the pincer.

Yes please.

If you could flop a whisper more?

As would a basking frog.

I trust tis all as it ought?

As other ladies might be?

Indeed

I had the honour of attending the last Lady of Hunderby.

Arabelle?

Yes.

Her womb was quite flaccid and thin.

Whereas yours, madam, is very firm and...

oh, springy to the touch,

with a moist neck,

and a widthy canal.

Oh...

you have borne a child already?

I would be most appreciative if you allowed me

to tell Edmund of this

in my own time.

But of course Madam

he need never know, if that be your will.

But you are fit for many more,

he may know that.

Thank you.

The child was not a union of love, but of brutality.

I was ravished by a humpback and did

birth a haired runt that died.

Tis a blessing, madam,

for 'twould surely have ended as a full-grown simpleton.

Oh, hush-a-ho.

Let me stem these salty rivers from thine eyes.

Madam, I...

I too have a secret.

Yes?

Twas I...

Twas I that crippled my wife Hesther.

You? Twas An accident, of course,

but the night before our wedding.

I realised, I did not love her. Not truly

No?

So I sought to drown my fears in drink, the great seductress.

I guzzled till dawn and took off for the woods upon my horse Roland,

with half a mind to ride myself into a tree

Instead I passed out, green-gilled atop his silken rump,

and the faithful fellow did guide me home.

But near my dwelling I came to with such a jolt,

I kicked poor Roland hard and in his zest to transport me hence,

he saw not Hesther coming out to greet me. No!

I mowed the poor lass down.

To this day she knows not twas I.

Well, Foggerty, I am most revived at news of my wife's fecundity.

Perhaps I already hear the echo of tiny footsteps

in your meaty cavern?

I know not, Sir

If I may, I should like to return to examine you also, Sir,

to confirm that all is well with your seed.

I am not at fault, Doctor Foggerty.

If I can be of any assistance, Doctor Foggerty.

Nor will I have you paddling about in my seed, Dorothy.

I am to be found out.

Annie? Annie?

How now, miss?

Doctor Foggerty knows of my past.

Of the child I bore John Whiffin.

Hush, miss.

It would not be the first queer child what's haunted these walls.

I'm sure he will not tell. And what if he does?

It's not as if you killed anyone.

I know what will cheer you up.

Why don't you and I go and play with Susan.

Well, all seems well.

(TERRIBLE SCREAMS AND GROANS)

Shhhhhhh.