All language subtitles for Garrows Law_ Tales from the Old Bailey - 02x04 - Episode 4.CiA.English (UK).C.orig

Criminal Conversation
is a euphemism...

For sexual intercourse
with another man's wife.

Custody of Samuel shall
reside with yourself.

If you shall admit the child
imposed upon your husband
is the child of Mr Garrow.

He will never make good this debt.

I will not sign...what is not true.

So it appears
you have not been honest with me
in how you have spent your time.

I would not betray you,
even for my son.

You shall not be deprived of
either of the loves you have.

The fair readers
of the Crimcon Gazette

are agog to hear you on this
remarkable good idea, Mr Garrow!

That a new law be passed permitting
men of low cut, out
of envy for their betters,

the freedom
to lift the skirts of titled wives!

I am the guardian
and fair arbiter of good society.

Lady Sarah Hill is the ladder
by which you hope to
mount into that society?

Thomas Wiley was indicted
for feloniously stealing,

on the 6th September,
out of the General Post-Office,

a letter directed to Messrs William,
Son, and Company, Bankers, London.

Good luck to you, Garrow! Here's
hoping she was worth the 10,000!

Gentlemen!
This offence, most grievous, is
one of theft from the King's Mail.

Thomas, don't be afraid.
My name is William Garrow.

I'm your defence counsel.

Do you understand?

Mr Garrow? Are you quite with us?

Will the boy speak in his defence?

He cannot, my Lord, he is mute.

So am I to play no role in the
resolving of my difficulties?

This is a situation requiring
of caution, requiring of delicacy.

And you think that beyond my range?

You have employed me and must let
me act from experience.

We must have
no more unwelcome visitations.

All I ask is that you do nothing.

And say nothing.

Call John Evans Davis.

What dealings had you
with the prisoner, either at
or after leaving the post office?

I spoke hardly a word to him, sir.

And he never spoke any to me.

The court is uncomfortable familiar
with you, is it not, Mr Davis?

On five occasions in this session
alone you have been accused,
by innocents like this boy...

of pressing them to theft
for your own advantage.

I fear I have a face
easily mistaken for another.

Thomas Wiley saw you
steal letters from the inland office.

You then threatened him with murder
to keep that secret. Is that not so?

I did not, sir. I never saw the lad
from the time I was left till now.

"The boy is mistaken."

"There is some mistake
made by this girl."

"I have not seen this youth before
today." "The child is in error."

Do you have a question, sir?
Is that not how your task here goes?

Five times in as many months you
have been accused, and still you
ask this court to see you innocent?

Mr Garrow...

if you have witnesses to support the
claim, you will no doubt call them.

I have been unable
to find any witnesses.

Too busy tupping his titled lady.

How many more times will he use this
court and this jury as executioner
for his unwilling assistants?

My Lord, do I have to remind
Mr Garrow not to address the jury.

Mr Garrow, have you
witnesses to call?

Every man and woman here is a
witness to this man's wickedness.

Mr Garrow! Have you witnesses?

I have none, my lord.

Then I think all has been said.

Gentlemen. You've heard
the evidence. You will confer.

You have a verdict?

Guilty.

Thomas Wiley - take you hence
to the place where you camest
and then to a place of execution,

where you will be hanged by the neck
until you be dead. Take him down.

Mr Southouse...

How is this? No jibes, Mr Farmer?

No gloating at the victory
over William Garrow
you imagine already yours?

Rest easy, Mr Southouse.

Preparation goes well.

Can it be you feel your
purse is in some doubt?

That two shillings you take
from every pound of damages?

Mr Southouse.
We will see your man fall.

I wonder.

It was a trial, just as any other.

I could have done more.

I fear he will hang
because my head was too filled
with politics and other nonsense.

You must, you will, forget this day.

How do I forget the fear in his eyes?

Ah.

I stopped looking in the eyes
of unfortunates I sentence to hang
some years ago.

William, it doesn't help them,

and I sleep better.

I think I could not
so easily turn away.

Then as long as you
continue in this profession...

..you will not sleep.

What do they want from me,
Mr Southouse?

All the things you do
not wish to give them.

You do not play the game.

I have no desire for easy-won
repute.

Which make you in their
eyes a very poor adulterer.

I propose we withdraw. We stay.

I will not be menaced by such
people. And you should know,

I intend to take my seat in
the courtroom for the trial.

What did you ask me here to say?

That I sense there has been a shift
of mood in your husband's cause.

A change of heart?
Nothing so clear, or so pleasing.

But I have seen
something in Mr Farmer.

Lady Sarah. My lord.

Mr Southouse.

You both might do well
to attend to Mr Garrow. I believe
he's in need of reassurance.

What kind of...

foul swamp is this
in which I must live

and make my living?

I cannot decipher
which half of it is worse...

..the endless...

..monstrous crimes of men...

..or the many barbarous ways
by which we punish them.

For little more than
the theft of a penny, we...

flog, brand, burn, maim
and jail them,

or dispatch
them to Godforsaken lands.

And hang a boy...

..a boy of...

only 12.

And this...

has so seeped into
my guts and bones...

..become so usual to my life,

that...it turns the
murder of boys into a mere prologue

to the main business of the day.

This business of ours

in the civil court.

Where in a pantomime of justice...

the interweave of our two lives
will be redrawn

as animal fornication,

our chastity re-minted as debauchery.

What does a man do...

..when all of this
weighs too heavy on his soul?

This man says he is beaten.

I am.

I am beaten.

Then this man is not William Garrow.

When the temptation of my son's
return was offered to me...

..William Garrow saw it clear

and stayed true to his self.

And by so doing,
kept me true to mine.

The man who talks here of defeat...

..is not the same.

When I, in my confusion,

resolved to flee the clamour
of this invented scandal...

..it was William Garrow

who kept me here

with protestations of love.

Without him,

my English cheeks would
by now be roasted by the French sun.

By your promises,

you filled me with fortitude.

And now,

this woman says

you must join her in her resolve,

or your pessimism will conjure up
the future you fear.

I will mimic my teacher
and quell my fear.

But where to take its place
may I find hope?

He stands behind me.

Mr Southouse brings hope,
do you not?

I believe I do.

There is some change in our enemy.

I have faced Farmer enough
to sense it.

His temper is altered...lowered.

No more than that?

And I intend
to discover what develops in the
household of Sir Arthur Hill.

"Upon delivering the letter
to Mr Garrow,

"he went to her...in..."

"With the urgency my mistress...
demanded."

"With the urgency
my mistress demanded."

"I then saw them embrace
hotly in the hotel room."

But I did not, Mr Farmer.
I find myself vexed by this demand
to speak against my mistress.

When next it troubles you, recall
your sister Annie and the employment
arranged for her by your master.

Embellish and she will continue
there, refuse and the future
is less certain. Again!

Mary? John Southouse. I am attorney
to... I know who you are, sir.

I ask only a few moments from you.
My time is not mine to give.

I understand that your
master holds sway over you.

But do you not also
owe your mistress?

If I am seen here with you, it
might easily cost my employment,
and my sister her new position.

Do you forget that, without the help
of Lady Sarah, your sister
might have danced from a rope?

The temperature has much changed
in the household since Sir Arthur,
in great anger,

upturned entirely my lady's
bedchamber, leaving it in havoc and
himself exhausted from the effort.

No doubt because Lady Sarah would
not do as Sir Arthur insisted
and admit her boy a bastard?

I don't know, sir. I think he
has resigned himself to that.

Then this was...some other matter?

You cannot assign what
that matter might be? I cannot!

Mr Silvester, if you come to exult
in your victory, I am in
no mood for it. The day is too dark.

I share your mood.

Today held no glory for English law.

But I came to discuss
your own situation.

And ask that you accept
my further apology.

For taking advantage of the
imbalance of your humour when
previously I faced you in court.

I expected nothing less. I mistook
my strategy by aiming for Garrow
the man and not the barrister.

That is the tactic
of the Sir Arthurs and
Lord Melvilles of this world.

I do not wish to side with them.

Therefore I side with you.

I wish to offer my services
as your counsel.

Indeed?

It is a conversion as
dramatic as Saint Paul.

I suppose I should be
grateful for this support.

Let us not exaggerate
the transformation.

I do not propose we become friends.

For which I am also grateful.

But I spy a second purpose to your
offer - a purpose more in keeping
with the Silvester I have known.

To add the Crimcon as a source
of income to his balance sheet,

a barrister such as yourself
must set up stall in that market
with a sensational trial.

This is such a trial. Perhaps.

But do my motives for taking such
a case have any bearing

on the very good job I might do
for you and for Lady Sarah?

You wish me to persuade you?

Like some smooth-faced
apprentice to this trade?

I find myself as a client dealing
with a barrister for the first time.

I am not so familiar
with the role that I can take up
my part so swiftly.

Tell me at least how
would you set out the case.

By first anticipating how my
colleague Mr Garrow might go,
and then turning that on its head.

Mr Garrow, as ever, would
wish to make things turn
upon a point of law.

And your strategy is less
troublesome to convention?

It is. More so because
Judge Kenyon is presiding.

He is a man of hard moral positions.
You would play to the judge
and not work at the evidence?

The "criminal"
in Criminal Conversation does
not make it a criminal case.

It is a civil case. Your eager
cross-examinations will not do here.

It is a bad law!
It is a very bad law,

but in order to win, we must
work within the convention.

Lord Melville, this is
excellent news indeed.

I particularly impressed upon the
Earl of Sandwich that the promotion
should take immediate effect.

As of this moment,
you are First Secretary.

And be assured,
I will do all in my power to repay
your confidence in my qualities.

My Lord, I amuse you?

You do not seek an
action between Garrow
and what you hold in your hand.

In this most imminent trial,
a very important consideration is the
wealth and status of the plaintiff.

The promotion is
considered necessary.

It is, let us say, politic.

So I'm not worthy of it?

If it snares Garrow, it's worth it.

They will also use the paternity
of the boy Samuel against you.

Use it how? He is not mine.

All they need is Sir Arthur's doubt.

And we respond that Sir Arthur Hill
is so overcome with the fancy
the child was fathered by me,

it led him to make this
malicious claim of adultery.

A claim supported by evidence so
slender, the court should blush.

Take no comfort from that.

The measure of proof is very
low set, and Judge Kenyon
was the one who set it there.

In his legal view, if a man and
woman contrive to be alone together,

they must have done so
with illicit purpose.

I begin to see this Criminal
Conversation is just a fantastical
tale with no concern for the truth.

Then at last you begin
to see clearly, Garrow.

I will suppress my surprise
that you, Silvester,
are to be our council.

And hope that you, Mr Garrow,
will learn an ounce of patience.

This notion of a "wife as property"
is everywhere outside the
courts being questioned.

The law must surely
change to reflect that.

If it must, it should
not at your expense.

And not in your trial.

I see you do begin to regret
your offer, Mr Silvester.

How can you smile, sir?

My son will hang because you were
occupied with your wanton lady.

I promise you that was not the case.

Madam, whatever my
shortcomings in court...
You think you can forget this day?

If I could begin this day again...

I will not let you forget him!

Take care of a man's coat!

Mr Southouse...

Mr Garrow!

Is the future so dire, you have
taken up trade as butcher's boy?

Oh, gentlemen!

I do so look forward to
your meeting my counsel...

Mr Thomas Erskine.

Have you not much rehearsed whatever
fine words you dare bring here...

barrister?

I have no words equal to this hour...

But if you would both allow it...

..I would bear the hour with you.

I know that my redeemer liveth...

..and though after my skin, worms
destroy this body, yet in my flesh,

shall I see God, and him mine
eyes shall behold, and not another.

Thou hast set our misdeeds
before thee. And...

..our secret sins
in the light of thy countenance.

So teach us now,
to number our days that
we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

The basket's truly not heavy, sir.
Nonsense.

And it is a gentleman's pleasure
to spare the prettiest girl
he will see all day.

We can't have those fine,
feminine arms misshapen
by muscle now, can we?

I am Mr Southouse.

John Southouse. Not so!

Why, I was most recently rescued from
the rope by your own barrister,
by Mr Garrow! By heaven no!

Then you are Annie, sister to Mary?

I am, sir.
Ah, how small a city this is!

But she lodges south does she not,
at Hill House?

Indeed. I now return to my mistress.

I trust your mistress is not one
of those idle genteel souls who
wear down their maids unreasonably?

No sir, there is none more reasonable
than Lady Elisabeth Fox. Thank you.

Good day.

Madam? I am called here on business,
summoned by Mr Southouse.

I am John Southouse. Please.

But forgive me, you are?

I am Lady Elisabeth Fox.

Widow of Lord Argyll.
Ah, of course! Please.

Now, as I recall...

there was something handed to me
by...a Mr Farmer?

Would that ring true, my Lady?

I believe it concerns
Sir Arthur Hill.

Sir Arthur and I do
have a connection.

Mr Farmer is acting
for him as attorney.

Ah, you have a connection
with Sir Arthur Hill.

That is interesting.

And he pays the wages of Annie
Christie? A maid in your household?

Ah, did I not say?

I also act as Attorney,
for William Garrow.

Welcome to the pit.

Court shall rise.

William Garrow pleads not guilty
to the charge that on 19th day
of September of this year,

and on diverse other days and times,
with force of arms

made an assault on Sarah Hill,
wife of the plaintiff, and then
and there debauched, deflowered,

lay with and carnally knew her, to
the Plaintiff's damage of

Why is it Sir Arthur might
pay your maid's wages, my Lady?

I protest at the falsehood
engineered to bring
me to this place!

My methods were dictated by the
deception practised on myself
and on William Garrow.

But I believe this...connection
you confess with Sir Arthur

will be of interest to those
now gathered at Westminster Hall.

Well...
do you propose to abduct me, sir?

I do not.

Only invite you to come with me.

And pay you compliment by assuming
you wish the truth to reveal itself.

William. Thomas?

You seem to have yourself in a mess.

You seem to have
yourself a false client.

We shall see which of
regrets the day the most.

Gentlemen.

The plaintiff, Sir Arthur Hill,
is reduced to the cruel necessity

of publishing in an
open court of justice,

his own misfortune, and his wife's
shame, in order to procure the only
remedy the Legislature can give.

The remedy I allude
to is separation.

We must measure the
verdict here in money.

But make no mistake...

no amount of money can restore to
Sir Arthur Hill what he has lost.

Domestic tranquillity,

and the certainty that the son
he cherished is indeed his own.

A passion for a
woman is progressive.

It does not, like anger,
gain ascendancy in a moment.

William Garrow is a
man of much-vaunted
intelligence and sharp wit.

He could not have gone about
his crime without passing the
morality of it through his mind.

And yet he trampled
on Lady Sarah's refusals,

and the protestations of her
conscience and
repeatedly trampled upon his own.

The Plaintiff calls George Donkin,
waiter at the Royal Hotel.

Call George Donkin.

Mr Donkin, do you see the personage
you know now to be Lady Sarah
Hill in this court? I do, sir.

There she sits.

Will you tell the court, related
to Lady Sarah, what took place in
the lodging at the Royal Hotel?

I witnessed Mr Garrow arrive
in haste at the hotel

and ascend to the room
occupied by Lady Sarah.

And at what hour
did Mr Garrow leave?

He did not, sir.

Sir, did you set up a bed outside
the room you say Mr Garrow entered?

To be truthful, I did not.

So you could not know if he left
without your seeing, could you?

To leave, he would have to pass my
station at the foot of the stairs.
He did not.

As I went upstairs to my own bed,
I heard noises of some animation
coming from the room. My Lord!

My Lord, if the business of the
trial were not already in motion,
and the witness not so reluctant...

Mr Southouse,
if you were to talk less

and say more, we might both find the
lineaments of our desires gratified.

I am in need of a compulsory.

The particulars I have here
in order for Mr Garrow to...

Mr Southouse, I cannot jump
every time Mr Garrow demands my help

to compel a witness
to attend and testify.

Tell the court, what are you?

I am maid to Lady Sarah Hill.
You will tell me now of the events
of the 16th of the month gone,

relating to Lady Sarah
at the Royal Hotel.

On the 16th, instructed by
Sir Arthur, you took fresh clothing
to your mistress, did you not?

Mary. Your answers here will neither
save nor condemn your mistress.

It is the events that will weigh
for or against this man,
and not your telling of them.

Yes, sir.
Tell the court what happened
at the Royal Hotel on that day.

I went up to my Lady's room...

Go on. You took fresh clothing
to her in her room.
What did you witness there?

As I entered the room...

You saw William Garrow and
Lady Sarah embrace, did you not?

No, sir. I did not.

Give this if you will to Mr Garrow.

My Lady.

Mr Southouse,
I had want of your company here.

Lady Sarah, I have been
about your business.

I make no apology for that.

But for what I say now, I ask pardon
for my necessary directness.

There is a woman who is...

familiar with your husband.

Her testimony here
could save William.

She resists...

you must persuade her.

I will direct you there.

My Lady...

the moment to act is upon us.

Court shall rise.

Is it true that Sir Arthur allowed
Lady Sarah, his wife, to witness
Bailey trials on his behalf?

That is so, and William Garrow took
advantage of this liberty to engineer
moments alone with her.

Before this time, your judgement is
that the marriage was strong?

As an oak! I have rarely seen such
devotion shared between man and wife.

Lord Melville, it is important,
is it not, in trials

such as this one, to establish the
social standing of the plaintiff?

He is a gentleman of family
and fortune, a Member of Parliament

for Bramber and now, First Secretary
of the High Admiralty.
Ah, yes, of course!

However, this jury, seasoned as they
are in the flow of things, will
have seen plaintiffs, as it were...

puffed up for their benefit.

For the avoidance of doubt,
would you tell the gentlemen

how recent was Sir Arthur's
promotion at the Admiralty?

It is recent.

The answer to the question
is one day ago, is it not?

As part of a long-standing
arrangement and linked to the wider
organisation of the Admiralty.

Oh, quite, my Lord.
I'm sure we are all familiar

with the smooth-running efficiency
of His Majesty's Government(!)

Your opinion of Mr Garrow's
character is rather low, is it not?

I believe this court will see
his morals to be wanting.

I believe other courts have seen
his ideas to be dangerous
to public order.

Yet quite recently, you offered him
the position of King's Counsel.

Which he, with no good grace,
refused!

No doubt you are pleased to appear
here today, to settle that score!

My Lord, I object to that!

Thank you, Mr Silvester.

My association with him interrupted
nothing that was not already broken.

You believe that so?

You deny your part in
your husband's falseness?

Your alliance with Mr Garrow
pushed him to it.

Tell me...

when did this liaison begin?

I have need to draw a line in time,
to separate out what portion of my
marriage I can consider untainted.

I was widowed two years ago.

The summer following, we met as
I travelled back from Suffolk.

He... charmed me.

I recall he can be charming.

He was attentive to me.

That I also recall...

more distantly. Well, no doubt
it is a familiar enough tale?

And the symmetry of our two roles
in it might ease your conscience.

Except that the tale is not true.

I say to you

what, as a woman and a wife,
I am prevented from saying in
my defence in a court of law.

My husband was not driven into your
arms by any betrayal on my part.

Well, so you would say.

Because it is the truth.

There was no seduction
by William Garrow.

Nor any gift of a bastard son?

I see my husband has infected you
with an ounce of his madness!

How can you keep silent while he
brands me a whore and William Garrow
the defiler of his property?

You would have me testify and in so
doing, damage my own future with the
husband you have chosen to reject?

What is it that renders our houses
pure and our families innocent?

It is that there is a warning voice,

as of an angel placed to guard
against evil propensities.

It is this voice which allows
a man to enjoy the company
of his neighbour's wife

without the rise of those desires
natural to men.

This defendant has deafened himself
to that saving voice.

If the law shelter
such a defendant from his crime,

individual security is gone
and the rights of the public
are unprotected.

Whether this be
our condition or not,

I shall know by your verdict.

You are kept hidden here,

where you can do no damage
to my husband's case.

Are you so sure he does not
deceive you as he has deceived me?

I will listen to no more of this.

By your silence, you send
two innocents to their ruin.

No more, please.
And you nurse your child while mine
was wrenched from my arms!

If you feel no shame at that, I fear
your heart is already still,

and your blood cold.

Mr Erskine paints a picture
of a blissful marriage,
ruined by William Garrow.

Let us lift the curtain
on that marriage.

Sir Arthur's purse and prospects
benefitted greatly by the union with

Lady Sarah, and greatly advanced his
career as a Member of Parliament.

I will pass no comment
on his dedication to that role,

except to say that he represents
one of the unfortunately labelled

"rotten boroughs", and that
Sir Arthur Hill MP has not set foot
in it for two years!

I call John Southouse.

Call John Southouse!

What are you, sir?

I am John Southouse, attorney,

called to speak to the character
of the defendant.

You are friends with William Garrow?

William Garrow is a most
difficult man to call "friend".

He is obdurate,

and driven to acts of principle that
test the usual bonds of fellowship.

He is short on temper
and long on haste.

He is guided by such
impatient fervour

that often, the normal courtesies
of sociability are left behind.

But I would rather claim
his friendship

than have the approval
of a multitude,
or the favour of kings and queens.

Shame then he does not keep
buttoned his trouser!

And shame on you, sir!

Who know everything of manners
and nothing of morals!

It pains me greatly that a man
who has, in the pursuit of justice,

changed the law, and in so doing,
changed a nation for the better,

should find his livelihood
imperilled by an action
as flimsy and unfounded as this.

There are many men,

fine men...

who this morning awoke
to the sight of their children,

and to the love of their wives,
who without Garrow
and his stubbornness -

for he can be a most stubborn man -

would lie under lime with the burns
of the rope around their necks.

You speak well, sir,

and rightly praise the barrister,
but what of the man?

Without the man...

I would not stand before you today,

so far am I indebted to him.

At a time of great despair,

he revived my spirit and soul,

and restored some small appetite
for my own life.

For that, he has
my unbroken gratitude.

He is a fine man.

I call Mrs Cardew
of the Women's Improvement League.

Call Mrs...

No! You do not, sir.

Mr Silvester,
you will approach the bench.

As will you, Mr Erskine.

And you, Mr Garrow.

This approach concerns me greatly.
I will hear the defendant's strategy.

We... call the witness from
the Women's Improvement League
to testify...

No... you will not.

Go on.

Umm, umm... we...

intend to call the Bishop of
Westminster regarding the damage

that CrimCon has had
on the institution... No!

This trial is about, and only about,

the award of verdict to the plaintiff
or defendant, and damages according.

Whatever the news, it seems not
good. You have my sympathy, sir.

I wonder, Mr Erskine, if you might,
with your Lordship's indulgence...

You have, My Lord, wisely recognised
the difficult role played by this
eminent counsel as my mouthpiece,

yet it is in your power still
to hand me that voice.

I think, sir, your desperation
is showing. But my sympathy stands.

You have no objection, Mr Erskine?

Think me soft-hearted, but how can
I deny Mr Garrow a final flourish?

Since it is his employment
we consider,

I feel I must leave
the final word

to Mr Silvester.

Shall Mr Garrow speak for himself?

My Lord...

I believe no man
is better qualified.

Let the court be advised, Mr Garrow
shall make his own closing statement.

My Lord Buller. Mr Southouse, am I
to be your quarry all of this day?

I would chase any weasel to its lair
for the signature I need. Weasel?

Do you forget who you address, sir?

I do not. William Garrow
is chased and cornered like a fox,

and then hobbled further by
the partialities of Judge Kenyon.

The trial is so cock-eyed,
I would not be surprised if

Lord Melville himself were
on the jury in disguise.

Mr Southouse,
I sympathise with your cause.

I admire Mr Garrow,
but I am not his protector.

But you would be his gaoler,

if you stand aside while this circle
of dogs tears him apart.

Or are you prevented, from fear or
by ambition, from opposing Melville?

There has been no adultery.

There has been, almost from
the moment of our first meeting,

animosity between myself
and Sir Arthur Hill.

There has been great sadness
on my part

that the full radiance of
Lady Sarah Hill should be

daily smothered by her husband's
possessive and deadening hand.

There has been regret
that the road of my fate

did not cross hers before this
mis-allied couple met and were wed.

But there has been no adultery.

There's been disappointment
that a weak husband's self-delusion

on the fidelity of his faithful wife
could not only grow
into desperate obsession,

but that it could find support
in those

who, to meet their own aims,
seek to suppress my activities
as a barrister

and entrap me in this charge
of Criminal Conversation.

Because there has been
no adultery, gentlemen.

There has been...

There has...

There has been the tug of attraction.

There have been ideas exchanged.

But there has been no adultery.

My Lord Buller.

My Lord, forgive me.

I come here after much
faint-hearted hesitation.

And after a lesson in virtue
from Mr Southouse.

And because if I did not...

I fear I would not sleep.

My Lord, forgive
this further irregularity.

I have here a compulsory
obtained on a witness.

The defence calls to this court
Lady Elisabeth Fox.

My Lord, I ask for an adjournment.

We adjourn. Court shall rise.

Gentlemen, I am at fault.
This I do accept. But...

Mr Farmer, what strange wisdom did
you both see in keeping this from me?

Lord Melville, I swear to you...
Just as he swore himself faithful?

Excepting whores, maids
and actresses, you swore
you were faithful to your wife!

Can you not see, sir,
how a man is driven to this?

Here is what I see - a promotion
reversed and a career cut short.

It was as a wounded cuckold I took
respite in the arms of another.

But what wound did she inflict?

What is it damns her in your eyes?

For I have the keenest eye
for guilt.

And on her, I see evidence of none.

I think you and I may hold out
some hope for salvation.

This woman will not be
an easy witness, William.

She has a delusion of love
to strengthen her resolve.

She must have the truth pulled
from her, like teeth from a horse.

But you must not bully her, or
she'll snap shut like a bear trap.

Thank you, you have all added
greatly to my confidence(!)

Court shall rise.

The court resumes.

Gentlemen...

I ask only that you consider all
of what had gone before, in light
of what now follows. Wait!

My Lord, we make objection to this
late witness in the strongest terms.

Mr Erskine, you will have your
opportunity to examine the witness.

I call Lady Elisabeth Fox.

Call Lady Elisabeth Fox.

You are Lady Elisabeth,
widow to Lord Fox of Argyll? I am.

You are well acquainted with
Sir Arthur Hill, are you not?

Yes. He is a most honourable man.
Hmm...

For clarity, a year after
the sad death of your husband,

you formed a liaison
with Sir Arthur, did you not?

I did. But it was no...

dalliance. No simple intrigue.

Rather it was an association
of maturity and respect.
With a man married?

Our liaison followed and was
born out of the sadness of heart
his wife caused by her infidelity.

How else can a husband feel
who discovers his son is not,
after all, his own?

That would be terrible, if it
were true. Is it the intention that
this liaison will continue?

It is. And upon deliverance of
a right and true verdict, that
intention shall be made concrete.

Really, how so? We are to be married.

Sir Arthur has promised this himself?

He sent word of his intention
by way of Mr Farmer.

He told you of his love for you and
his hopes for your future together
via his attorney? Only because...

Because if he had been seen with you,
how would that have looked
to this court and this jury?

Are you aware that the writ
Sir Arthur delivered to his wife,

also via Mr Farmer, was a writ
for separation by bed and board?

Should her infidelity go unpunished?

It was an especially vengeful writ.
It would leave Lady Sarah in a state
of marital and financial limbo.

But more particularly, it would leave
Sir Arthur unable to remarry, that
is to say, unable to remarry anyone.

Unable to marry you.

Did he not make that clear?

You've tried to fool me
into a betrayal!

My Lady, you are fooled already. No!
That is a baseless allegation...
Deceived by practised hands!

Attacking the witness!
This is not true... Manipulated!
He does not love you!

Gentlemen, we object!
My Lord! We have a child!

By Sir Arthur Hill,
you have brought birth to a child.

On the day you gave birth
to the child, did he come to you?

He did not.

There... there was business
in Parliament. The next day, at all?

He...

After a week, I visited Sir Arthur's
home, but could not gain entry.

He turned you away?
It was a misunderstanding
and was soon corrected!

Corrected by a visit
from Mr Farmer, I presume?

And when you found yourself
with child?

I made an effort to seek a remedy
through an apothecary.

And what was Sir Arthur's reaction
to that?

He was angered by the idea, but...
but at the same time, he declared
his love for me.

And still he has not come
to see you, or seen the child?

Lady Elisabeth, I have
a witness who can testify

to Sir Arthur's action upon hearing
of the birth of the child.

Her testimony is that Sir Arthur,
in great anger, upturned entirely
the bedchamber,

leaving it in havoc and himself
exhausted from the effort.

I don't understand.

I would suggest the thing closest
to Sir Arthur's heart

is neither yourself,
nor Lady Sarah, his wife.

It is an heir. A male heir.

What is your child?

A daughter.

The fiction of Sir Arthur's love was
only resurrected for the necessary
protection of his reputation,

and to preserve the idea
of his own fidelity.

The truth must be faced,
though it is a harsh truth.

He has deceived you...

as he has deceived his wife.

You were to him no more
than a respectable womb.

The means of continuing
a bloodline, which did not
turn out out as he planned.

We have no questions, My Lord.

Court shall rise.

You have a verdict, gentlemen?

We do, My Lord.

The jury find for the plaintiff,
Sir Arthur Hill.

And award damages
to the amount of...

one shilling.

Court shall rise.

Splendid, Garrow.

And now perhaps, please God,
we can resume our former opposition.

I believe I have something
that belongs to you.

Keep it.

You may need it.

Those who pushed me into this
will not see this as the end.

It seems you have bought me
for a shilling.

A very fine price.

But at what cost to your life?

A life that will include your son?

We are not beaten.

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