All language subtitles for Miss.Austen.Regrets.2007.eng

EXCITED CHATTERING

I think your sisters have drunk
too much of the orange wine!

You can bring your sister!
And your mother.

Miss Austen...

Jane, would you marry me
and be mistress of Manydown?

Yes...

Harris.

I will.

Oh, I couldn't be happier!

Jane...

let's go and tell father.

Jane...

Are you sure?

THUNDER RUMBLES

Tell me I have done the right thing.

Tell me I was right
to change my mind.

Dear God, let me
never regret this day.

Oh, I'm all fingers and thumbs
with these ribbons today.

It's not your fault.

This poor old bonnet
has breathed its last.

"My dearest Fanny,

"nothing could be more intriguing
than your latest letter.

"Such a description of
your queer little heart.

"This new young man you adore,
is he 'the one'?

"If we could only see into the
future and know in advance if our
choices will turn out to be wise.

"Alas, you face the most momentous
decision of your life with only
your Aunt Jane to advise you.

"Come to your cousin's wedding

"prepared to discuss
every delicious detail."

Look mercifully
upon these thy servants

that this woman may be
loving and amiable, faithful
and obedient to her husband.

Oh, Lord, bless them both.

BELL RINGS OUT

Aunt Jane, you've got to help me
decide because I can't.

I must meet your darling
Mr Plumptree as a matter of the
greatest urgency.

Plumptree, Plumptree, Mrs Plumptree!
Ssh, stop it! Everyone's hearing.

Such a plump and preposterous name.
I think you'll find him hard to
resist. Come home with us, Aunt
Jane.

Father!

Father! Tell Aunt Jane
she's got to come to Kent.

Please. I'm dying to know
what you think of him.

There may be aunt who could
resist such an invitation,
but I am not that aunt.

CHEERING

I just don't think you've got any
chance of getting me to the altar.

I'm expecting a proposal
at any moment.

Oh, that's such a silly old joke.

Learn from me Fanny. All any
gentleman needs is an opportunity.

Mr Papillon.

Miss Austen. Lovely service.

Miss Austen, how kind you are.
How very kind.

My humble efforts no match for your
intellect, I'm sure.

Surprisingly romantic.

Romantic, I don't really, no, I...

I would have everyone marry if
they could, don't you agree?

Saint Paul himself tells us
it's better to marry than burn.
Who could resist?

I'm convinced, Mr Papillon,

that there's not a single
freeborn English lady,
even the most unlikely spinster,

who could fail to find happiness,
if only our English gentlemen
would seize the moment.

Any moment, really.

Oh, very clever, I'm sure.

What a lovely service. Lovely!

Good day to you, ladies.

Jane!

Silenced
by the force of his passion.

You shouldn't torment
the poor fellow.

Like a cat with a mouse.
And it's cruel.

Mr Papillon is such a dry old stick.
I'm sure he doesn't notice.

Anyway, I'm a vicar's daughter.

Why shouldn't I make
a charming vicar's wife?

And you set a bad example
to our niece.

The child is delightful.

To think of her married to
an ordinary gentleman in Kent.

Everyone from Kent is
always quite agreeable.

I don't want people to be
very agreeable. It saves me
the trouble of liking them.

Are you going to have time for that
in Kent? I'll make time.

Help me, Cat. I'll be late!

Write to me every day.

Think of all the new people
she might meet. Mother!

You. You turned your face
to the wall years ago.

But Jane,
you're not going to tell me
she's not interested in gentlemen.

She's met all the gentlemen in Kent.

Oh! You girls!

What if there's someone better?

What If I marry Mr Plumptree,
and I never meet him?

Someone better I mean.

What if I pass him on the street and
I never know that he was the one.

And what if you do meet him
and he doesn't have any money?

But if I loved him
then nothing else would matter.

In heaven's name,
what gave you that idea?

It says so in one of your books.

If that's what you think
they say, my dear, perhaps
you should read them again.

What's worse, do you think?

To marry the wrong man,
or to die a lonely old maid?

There are worse things to die of.

You're not old.
I shall soon be forty! That's
almost old enough to boast about.

Well, we must look for a wealthy
old widower with six children.
Oh, very attractive(!)

I bet you had hundreds of proposals
when you were my age.

Thousands! I bet every young man
in the vicinity pined with longing.

Alas, not for me.

You must've been asked.

I never was, my dear.

I'm simply a mistress
of all the theory.

And despite the shame of being old,
I'm quite happy to be so.

It's much less messy.
Were you really never in love?

The truth is, Fanny...

And this must be our secret.

You must never tell anyone.

The truth is,

I am she that loved and lost.

Who was he? Tell me.

I loved and lost,
and pined and yearned.

And then swore myself
to solitude and the consolations
of writing about it instead.

Did you really?

You read far too many novels.

CHILDREN CHEER

Hello!

Nerve-wracking, the idea she might
make the wrong choice of husband.

Alas for fond fathers everywhere

the days of arranged
marriages are long gone.

It's hard for the poor child
without a mother to guide her.

You know, she will accept him
if he has your blessing.

The responsibilities of an aunt
are bottomless.

What do you think? Will he adore me?

Coloured petticoats
and flounces now!

We've had flounces for ages.
It's quite short.

Well, if yours is too long,
I'll take my scissors to it.
Don't you dare.

Oh, I'll just die on the spot
if you don't like Mr Plumptree.

I'm weak with adoration already.

Please don't expect a Mr Darcy.

My darling girl,
this is the real world.

The only way to get a man like
Mr Darcy is to make him up.

I do long for the day when everyone
of us on Earth can turn away

from shallow, worldly desires,

believing, rejoicing that our
Lord will reward us in heaven.

In the meantime, however...
In the meantime, a writer
like yourself

is in such a powerful position to
encourage people to be virtuous

and that is why - please
don't be offended Miss Austen -
why it worries me

that so many of your men
of religion are figures of fun.

My mother...

my mother loves my foolish vicars.

But I thought your father... A
vicar?

Yes.

A real vicar.

Whereas my foolish vicars are...

..are all made up. Do you see?

They're just stories.

A clergyman has nothing to do
but be slovenly and selfish,

read the newspaper, watch the
weather and quarrel with his wife.

Mansfield Park?

Have mercy on him, Fanny.

Do not oblige poor Mr Plumptree to
listen to any more of my ramblings.

I could write a book.
Please, feel free to do so.

And I will put myself
on the sofa by the fire and
drink as much wine as I want.

Well, he's handsome, isn't he?

And his religious faith
is a point in his favour.

I like his quiet,
gentleman-like manners.

"Sensible rather than brilliant.

"There is nobody brilliant
nowadays."

Will you recommend him?

Good lord!
What do I know about any of it?

Precisely.

Nevertheless.

Girls of 20 are so desperate
to be in love.

'It's so hard to tell if it's real.

'Everyone should have the chance
to marry once for love.

'If they can.'

Edward?

Anything wrong?

Fanny and I must
visit our neighbours.

Don't worry, you don't have to come.

"My darling Cassandra,

"do not imagine I have any
real objection to Mr Plumptree.

"I have rather taken a fancy
to him than not.

"Now, however, I am all alone.

"What happiness!

"At this present time I have
five tables, eight and twenty
chairs and two fires all to myself.

"I am mistress of all I survey.

"So where shall I begin?

"Which of my important nothings
shall I tell you first?"

DOOR SLAMS

Hello?

Edward?

Edward?

HEAVY FOOTSTEPS

HE KNOCKS

Good Lord!

Miss Austen!

Mr Bridges.

What a lovely surprise.

Were we expecting you?

Er, I'm late, probably, or early.

I was just on my way
back to Ramsgate.

Then I can see exactly why you
might want to delay your arrival
as long as is decent.

It's my wife.

Her health's not strong.
She needs the sea air.

Then...then Ramsgate's
just the place.

Fanny and Edward will be
back in time for dinner.

Oh, till then don't let
me disturb your writing.

Oh, no, it's just a letter to
my sister. I can finish it later,

by which time, thanks to your
appearance, its contents will
be far more interesting to her.

You haven't changed at all.

No, it's true, Ramsgate is not
the most elegant of seaside towns.

But Harriet finds the air suits her.

My advice
for a happy stay in Ramsgate

is to keep your face firmly
south toward the sea

and your back therefore...
..north towards Ramsgate, keeping
my life where I can't see it.

I might find services rather
difficult to conduct!

Dearly beloved, we are gathered
here today in the sight of God
and a howling gale from France...!

JANE LAUGHS

Are you happy
in Ramsgate, Mr Bridges?

Yes.

Are you happy in Hampshire,
Miss Austen?

Yes.

I was surprised to hear
that you'd left Bath.

Dreadful multitude
of ugly women in Bath.

And as for the men!

Mr Bridges, I barely wrote
a useful word in ten years,

then we walked into
the cottage in Hampshire...

..and I knew we'd never leave.

I knew my mother would be happy
and my sister would be comfortable.

You've left someone out.

And I would be free to write.

Things always turn out for the best.

Don't you agree?

Perhaps.

Shall I say yes to him,
if he asks me? Has he asked you?
No, but when he does.

Because, Aunt Jane, the worst thing
is we'll have to wait years till
he finishes his studies.

So you like him well enough to marry
him, but not enough to wait? Er...
Makes perfect sense to me.

Are you in love with him? Of course.
Because if you're not,

that's an awful lot of breath
we've both been wasting.

There, you just admitted it,
love is the most important thing.

But not the only important thing.
There's money and position
and family.

And friendship and passion
and shared purpose.

Fanny...

do anything but marry
without affection.

Stop!

There.

Now you can turn down all
the marriageable men in Kent.

I shall be as polite to them
as their bad breath will allow.

Fanny, my dear. So grown up!

Mr Lushington.

My sister - Miss Austen. Jane, may
I present Mr Stephen Lushington,

Member of Parliament for Canterbury.

I'm thrilled to find you as charming
in person and you are on page,
Miss Austen.

I haven't said anything yet.

Discerning elements of the
Palace of Westminster queue up
for the chance of meeting you.

Shall I be stared at
like a wild beast in a zoo?

A wild beast, caught in my net,
right here in this library.

Just where you belong.

Surrounded and supported
by the wisdom of the ancients.

"With awe
around these silent walks I tread

"These are the lasting
mansions of the dead."

You like George Crabbe? I always
keep a copy of Crabbe in my pocket,

for when the House of Commons
becomes too tedious.

I hope you mean
Crabbe in one pocket.

Pride And Prejudice in the other.

Mansfield Park beneath my hat.

Sense And Sensibility tucked
under my arm.

Oh!

And where are you
going to put my Emma?

A new heroine?!

My dear Miss Austen, you must allow
me to monopolise your attention
shamelessly till the end of dinner.

And beyond.

LIVELY FIDDLE MUSIC PLAYS

But it's Saturday night!

It's gone midnight, it's Sunday,
the Lord's day.

Please, Fanny,
it's past the time for dancing.

Your sisters are dancing,
showing their thick ankles.

Rescue poor Aunt Jane.

She doesn't look to me
like someone who needs rescuing.

She's having more fun than me
and it's my house!

I'm going to bed.

Fanny.

I'm an ass...

..I know I am, and a very bad guest.

Please forgive me.

Only if you abandon every
single one of your principles
and dance with me immediately.

Miss Knight, may I have
the pleasure of this dance?

Once, when you were very little,
I opened the dancing at a rather
grand ball with your Uncle Brook.

Near escape there, Aunt Jane.
You could've ended up a
vicar's wife in Ramsgate.

Far too many beautiful
young men here, Fanny.

How can you possibly choose one?

PIANO PLAYS

You let that horrid politician
flirt with you all night.

I'm rather in love with him. Mm-hm!

He's clever,
and a man of great taste.

Ambitious and insincere.

It's a good thing I'm prevented
from setting my cap at him, by his
having a wife and ten children.

And he's ugly!

Well done, Fanny, you have at last
uncovered the true reason why
I never chose a husband.

Why? Because you never
found one handsome enough? No!

I never found one
worth giving up flirting for.

A castle!

No! Yes! It's been in the
Wildman family for centuries.

Yes, I can definitely see you
at the altar with Mr Wildman.

I like the idea of you in a castle.
And the next one, now he looks
very nice. Unaffected...

He's a bit boring. Oh.

The Knatchbulls have pots of money.
Their father's a baronet!

Well, I like that
quiet sensible look.

He might do you for you very well.

Now that must be Mr Hatton
you wrote to me about.
The one with the heavenly body.

Are there any castles
in his family?

No.

I don't know what I saw in him now.

Fanny Knatchbull,
Fanny Hatton, Fanny Wildman,

Fanny Plumptree?

I shall marry him if he asks me.

I hope he asks me.

But I think you like any of
the others better than him.

Nonsense. Mr Plumptree has
a thousand good qualities.

If you overlook the coarse mother
and the sisters like horses.

Good prospects...

..good character.

He's a good match for you, Fanny.

I'm not like you, Aunt Jane.

More than anything else
in the world, I want to be married.

And I would have you marry,

because I know you won't
be happy until you are.

Single women have a dreadful
propensity for being poor.

And the best recipe I know
for happiness is a large income.

JANE LAUGHS

Who's there?

Show yourself!

Fanny, what on earth
are you doing out here?

My fault, I'm afraid, Mr Bridges.

Miss Austen!
Aunt Jane has accepted the awful
duty of offering me moral guidance.

In the shrubbery? As good a place
as any to lead a young lady astray.

Fanny, go to bed now, please.

DOOR SLAMS

I was invited to stay here at
Fanny's request to help her make
a decision about her Mr Plumptree.

I didn't know he'd made her
an offer. How does a gentleman's
failure to make an offer interfere

with a lady's ability to decide
whether she likes him or not? What
lady flirts shamelessly all night,

then lurks outside in the dark
gawping and gossiping?

Thank you for so freely sharing
your poor opinion of my conduct
and character.

Goodnight, Mr Bridges.

"My dear Cassandra,

"I believe I drank too
much wine last night.

"I know not else how to account
for the shaking of my hand today.

"My hair was at least tidy...

"..which was all my ambition."

DOOR OPENS
There you are.

Everyone else is out,
taking the morning air.

I know.

I'm very late down.

Thought I might catch you sitting
in the corner somewhere scribbling.

I'm not at all in the humour
for writing.

Still going well, I hope?

Well, Emma is nearly finished, but
Mr Edgerton is refusing to publish
another edition of Mansfield Park

and I was wondering,

maybe we should find
a new publisher for Emma.

Maybe we should ask
for some more money too.

Dear Lord, I do wish you wouldn't
think of it as writing for money.

Sense And Sensibility has brought me
£140. May I not be proud of that?

Try to imagine how it reflects
on us, your brothers, to have an
unmarried sister seeking employment.

Jane, I will always take care
of you and Cass and mother,

but I'm a widower,
I have eleven children,

I inherited a house I can't
afford to run and an estate
riddled with legal complications.

What complications?

I face a challenge to my
inheritance.

A deed was drawn up wrongly,
so they say.

If they win, Jane, I'll lose
half of everything I own.

Not this house?

No no. This house is quite safe.

I didn't make myself clear.

The writ only affects my claim
on my Hampshire properties.

The cottage. Now I don't want you
to worry. There'll always be
a place for you all here with us.

Edward, the cottage
is where I write!

Oh, Jane...

..if only you'd been less proud.

If only you'd married.

But if everything on Earth
is made by God,

including us and everything we do,
then that must include music.

Yes, sacred music,

devoted to magnifying his grace.

But do you think he never meant us
to dance? He did give us feet!

Well, I know, of course, but I...

Oh, now you're making fun of me.
I'm not. I know you think
I'm too serious.

I don't. Like your aunt Jane, always
laughing out of the side of her
face. She doesn't!

I don't either.

Please, let's not argue.

No, we mustn't argue.

You're right.

I'm sorry.

Oh, Fanny...

..you think me so serious.

And here I am...

..overcome by feelings of joy...

..and, I must ask you...

Um...

..could you...?

Er, that is, may I...?

Could you consider...?

How hard it is to find words to
express one's deepest feelings.

Um...

Oh, you're laughing.

Look, I know I'm not
brilliant with words.

Oh, no, you are.

You are!

John...

Forgive me.

Forgive me, I...

I think I might take a walk
to that line of trees.

Beeches, I think.

Beeches.

Yes, I believe so.

Fagus sylvatica.

The dead leaves stay on the tree all
over the winter. Did you know that?

Fascinating subject, botany.

(Oh, God.)

I shall deserve it
if you never forgive me for my
dreadful rudeness last night.

You are forgiven everything except
your failure to ask me to dance.

What, and let you point out
how little my technique
has improved in all these years?

You were always enthusiastic, which
is what one needs most in a man.

I waited for news that you'd
married. As every woman knows,
there's a scarcity of men in general

and an even greater scarcity of
any that are good for much.

You can hide behind your clever
words as much as you like. Good,

because my clever words
will soon be the only thing
putting a roof over my head.

Or my mother's or my sister's.

I'm to be my own husband, it seems.

And theirs.

I'd've put a roof over all your
heads and cherished you, dear
Jane, till death did us part.

Aunt Jane! Aunt Jane!

Aunt Jane, I need to speak to you.

My darling girl, when I consider
how few young men you have yet
seen much of

and how much temptation
the next six or seven years
of your life will be full of...!

I'll be 27!

A woman of seven and twenty can
never hope to feel or inspire
affection, again? That was satire!

Just because you wrote that as a
joke it doesn't stop it being true.

He thinks we both laugh at him.
He'll never pluck up the courage
again. I've missed my only chance.

You could have my widower.
All six children.

Why must you always turn
everything into a joke?

This is real! It's me and all I want
is to be a girl and be pretty

and be loved by John Plumptree
and marry him like Anna married Ben.

You haven't got the first idea
what it's like.

Ben had a cousin,
who came to visit Hampshire
one summer when I was 20,

your age exactly.

Tom Lefroy was going to be a lawyer,

just like Mr Plumptree.

Shocking amounts of dancing went on,
I remember.

Shameless bouts of sitting together
and gazing at each other.

I was a horrible flirt.

Does this ring any bells?
What happened?

Wiser heads than mine noticed
that we neither of us had any money,

so at the end of the summer
he went home.

Fortunate fellow married an heiress.

Was he the one?

No, he wasn't.

And I'm telling you this
because it hurt me for about
five minutes, then it passed.

You're so young.

Depend upon it, Fanny,
the right man will come along.

He never did for you.

"More than seven years were gone
since this little history

"of sorrowful interest
had reached its close.

"She hoped to be wise and
reasonable in time, but alas,

"she must confess to herself
that she was not wise yet.

"She had used him ill,

"deserted and disappointed him,
and worse, she had shown a
feebleness of character in doing so

"which his own decided, confident
temper could not endure.

"She had given him up
to oblige others.

"She had been forced
into prudence in her youth.

"She learned romance
as she grew older.

"The natural sequence
to an unnatural beginning."

I don't know how you can
sit there with dry eyes.

I never weep over anything
that might make me some money.

You could call it Persuasion. The
new publisher would be thrilled.

My darling brother is a genius.

So when's our publication date?

Don't really have one,
not a date as such.

But the contract...

The contract is a work in progress.

Oh, Jane, the money he's offering.

He wants all your books for £450.

That's pitiful.

I'm a banker. If there's one thing
bankers know about, it's money.

You know you can rely on me.

Mademoiselle Jane,
welcome to London. Madame.

So good to see you.

What if I'm mad to think anyone
can love a horrible little snob
who can't mind her own business?

Emma? Everyone'll love her.

What if everyone thinks it's not
as good as Pride And Prejudice?

What if everyone thinks
my best work is behind me?

Henry?

HE GROANS
Darling, what is it?!

Why hasn't he seen a doctor?

Let him rest, Mademoiselle.

He's always better by the morning.

Help! Oh!

Henry? Who is your doctor?
HENRY GASPS

He hasn't got one.

It's too late to find anyone today.

COUGHING

Excuse me, I'm looking for a doctor.

Come with me.

Are you the doctor?
I'm one doctor of many.

I need your help.
My brother's terribly ill.

He's screaming with pain,
stomach pain of some sort.

It's been going on for ages.
He hasn't said a thing.

We don't live far away,
Hans Place, I walked here myself.

Alone? I had no choice.

I don't need a doctor.

And you mustn't go wandering
the town on your own.

You're fortunate to have such
a devoted sister, Mr Austen.

Would you excuse us?

He's so young.
I hope he knows what to do.

Not much fun for you, this.

Isn't that what
widowed brothers are for?

Suffering terrifying illnesses
and giving their unmarried sisters
a chance to fuss and flap.

Pick up that notebook.

Certainly not.

I'm not a writer today.

I'm your nurse. You just write
down what I tell you to write.

Go on.

So, "To Mr John Murray, publisher."

No, Henry.

Why don't I just go
to see Mr Murray myself?

You can't go out to
a gentlemen publisher's office.

It's not seemly,
it's not respectable.

I'd rather be rich than respectable.

I couldn't agree more.

Glad to see you looking a little
brighter today, Mr Austen.

And Miss Austen...

I didn't understand last night
just who brought me here.

I'm delighted to introduce myself
to you properly, Miss Austen.
Charles Haden, an admirer.

I'm surprised to hear that
you read novels.

I'm not clever enough for you.

Gentlemen read better books.

I've read far more sentimental
novels than is good for
my immortal soul.

You have to take that word
sentimental back,

if you want to truly prove
you've read mine.

I was particularly entertained
to notice that Lizzie Bennet

only realises she loves Mr Darcy
when she sees how big his house is.

The moment for alarm has past.
Bedrest and quiet are what he needs.
This means you.

I've taken 20 ounces of blood,

but I fear I shall have to come
tomorrow to do the same. Oh, good.

I mean, er, just as you say.

Well, good day, Miss Austen, ladies.

See you tomorrow then.
It'll be my pleasure.

"You must fancy Henry in the back
room upstairs

"and I am generally there also,
working or writing.

"Henry calls himself
stronger every day,

"and Mr Haden
keeps approving his pulse.

"A young man said to be clever,
and he is certainly very attentive.

"Tomorrow he is to dine with us.

"There's happiness.

"I've really grown so fond
of Mr Haden that I don't know
what to expect."

From Jane?

No.

"Mr H is reading Mansfield Park
for the first time and prefers
it to Pride and Prejudice.

"But Cassandra, you seem to
be under a mistake as to Mr H.

"You call him an apothecary.

"He is no apothecary.

"He never has been an apothecary.

"He is a Haden.

"Nothing but a Haden.

"A sort of wonderful,
non-descript creature on two legs.

"Something between a man...
and an angel.

"Infinities of love.

"J Austen."

Jane! God-like figures quiver
at the sight of his scalpel.

Jane!

Oh, she's in her own little world.

Mademoiselle! Haden here's
got a jolly good idea for you.

Might even force a better
offer out of our publishers.

Talk to her, Haden.
Perhaps your brother has
not told you, Miss Austen,

but my senior partner has patients
in astonishingly high places.

Places quite beyond imaging.

But my imagination flies very high.

Well, I happen to know that
the Prince Regent loves your books.

Oh, I hate that man.

I always take his wife's side.

Hide your true feelings as you will.

I'm told to expect a royal
invitation at any moment.

We are to attend
His Royal Highness?

Not we, no. You, just you.

I'm only the messenger.

Well, I shall decline it.

The Prince Regent is such
a disagreeable man,

it's quite a misfortune
to be liked by him.

Oh, so you wish only to be
read by men you approve of?

Why shouldn't I choose my
readers as I choose my friends?

Because you'll never
make your fortune.

Then I shall remain
poor and obscure forever.

No, on the contrary,

I would give a lot to
see you in a fine gown,
sparkling in the best company.

And how does Mr Plumptree
like your coming
to London without him?

Of course he's
completely devoted now.

Hangs off my every word.

Whenever I look at him,
he's gazing down adoringly.

Aunt Jane, I don't know
if I do love him after all.

What strange creatures we are.

Soon as we are sure of a man's
attachment, we become indifferent.

Poor Mr Plumptree.

You must give him up. No!

Whenever you are together,
behave with a coldness

that may convince him that he
has been deceiving himself.
But he'll be so hurt!

I have no doubt that he will
suffer a great deal for a time,

but it is no creed of mine that
such sort of disappointments
kill anybody.

Now that I've arrived in London...

Where the streets are paved
with eager young gentlemen.

Fanny...

..nothing compares with the
misery of being bound without love.

Bound to one, and...

preferring another.

That is a punishment
even you do not deserve.

You've got a lovely
curl in your hair today.

Not nerves, surely!

Mr Haden,

I don't know how to do this.

I have no experience.

You have something much
more powerful and much more
desirable than experience.

Go on.

You have imagination.

Think of me cheering you on.
Your greatest supporter
willing you to victory.

Miss Austen!

Miss Austen, the honour of your
visit is immense.

It's just incalculable.

Now, the Regent has read and
admired all the publications.

His Royal Highness keeps copies
in every one of his residencies.

Yes, indeed he does.
And even I, his humble librarian,
James Stanley Clark,

I have read them all...

..twice.

Will you have cake?

I will.

I'm sure Emma will be a triumph.
I'm afraid those readers
who liked Pride and Prejudice

will think it too serious,
and those who liked Mansfield Park
will think it not serious enough!

Impossible, since with
every new work your mind seems
to increase its energy.

Your books reflect
the highest honour on your genius,
and your principles.

They are my darling children.

I send them out
into the world to compete

with the likes of Sir Walter Scott
and Lord Byron.

No competition at all,
the gentlemen are unreadable.

And yet, I have accomplished
so little in my life.

I have seen so little.

My work is so small. My canvas...

Miss Austen...
Just a little bit of ivory,

two inches wide, in which
I work with so fine a brush.

You are quite at liberty
to dedicate Emma

to his Royal Highness.

Quite at liberty.

Erm, perhaps, in some future work,

you could write about the habits
of life, characters and enthusiasm

of a clergyman, describe him burying
his own mother,

as I did. Never recovered
from the shock. Or, or...

Carry your clergyman to sea,
as the friend of some...
distinguished naval character.

"Mr Clark", says I...

"I am honoured. But a man such as
that would have to talk on subjects

"such as science, philosophy,
of which a woman like me
can know nothing.

"Alas, I think I may boast myself
to be with all possible vanity,

"most unlearned and uninformed
female who ever dared to call
herself an authoress."

Well done. So naughty! You should
take pity on the poor kind soul.

I never take pity on anyone to whom
I'm not related. Another reason

to thank the Lord each day
that I'm your brother.
To our wicked Jane, and to Emma.

Like her creator, your Emma is
a jewel. To Jane and Emma.

And now that you have contrived to
get it dedicated by permission to
none other than the Prince Regent...

No, you contrived it, for which
I thank you most gratefully.
Mr John Murray, publisher

of this parish will have no choice
but to give it a swift print run.
I shall get 2,000 copies out of him

at 21 shillings
for the three volumes.

Surely you can get more?! As
any publisher will tell you, public
taste tends more to serious romance.

I couldn't write one of those to
save my life. I prefer to let other
pens dwell on guilt and misery.

A toast to guilt and misery.
Guilt and misery!

Now, if we are to help you make your
fortune, Miss Austen, we must help
you to write a proper modern novel.

The kind where every heroine must
be the daughter of a clergyman.
Perfectly good, tender, sentimental.

Have not the tiniest sense of
humour, speak several foreign
languages brilliantly

and be wonderful at music,
obviously. And which instrument
shall our new heroine play?

The piano. The piano because it
shows off her arms so beautifully.

What hero would be worthy of such a
paragon? One who is perfectly boring

and boringly perfect to contemplate.
You'll have to write his chapters,
Mr Haden.

Pictures of perfection make me sick
and wicked.

Yes, villains are so much more
attractive. Totally unprincipled
and heartless.

Desperately in love with the
heroine. He pursues her with a
relentless passion.

Our heroine is utterly beautiful
and her elderly father

utterly hopeless. Oh, dear, please
don't tell my brother.

Everywhere our heroine goes, people
fall in love with her and she
receives repeated offers of
marriage.

Then after at least 20 narrow
escapes of falling into the arms

of anti-hero, many tears
flow and in the nick of time...

She marries the one she
is destined for all along.

And do you believe that, Miss
Austen? How destiny always provides
us with a perfect mate?

I do. When I'm writing a novel.

So unromantic! Oh, but your
aunt's heroines always get it right.

Each one marries a wealthy man,
each one she marries for love.

And you, Monsieur Haden, what
is you idea of the perfect wife?

Strong mind, and sweetness of
manner. Well said, Haden, in this
company.

Could you play this for me?

She'll have you a sweet wife,
all gratitude and devotion.

I would wish her to be of a silent
turn and somewhat ignorant.

Fond of cold veal pies
and green tea in the afternoon.

You looked fagged Henry,
I'll take you upstairs.

No fear. I'm enjoying myself
far too much.

Imagine, if you could take
Mr Plumptree's modesty...

Mr Wildman's castle in Kent.
And Mr Haden's...

Not sure I know the words for what
Mr Haden contributes. Good Lord.

What has become of all the shyness
in the world?

Can all the young men in London
be as flirtatious as Mr Haden?

Was that two chairs I saw you and
him sitting in or just the one?

Aunt Jane, you're jealous!
I am an aunt. Still a woman.

Still a cat when I see a mouse.

Well, you can have him,
my dear, I will not stand in
the way of your happiness.

Aunt Jane. Aunt Jane?

The more I think
about your Mr Plumptree,
the warmer my feelings become.

The more strongly I feel
the desirableness of your
falling in love with him again.

You like Mr Haden, don't you?
He has very good teeth.

If when you were younger...

I should never have wanted to
become a doctor's wife.

There's not nearly enough
money in medicine.

DOOR OPENS AND SHUTS

Did I tell you, mademoiselle?

I had a letter from my friend.
Living in Paris.

She has read a wonderful book.
It is called Raison et Sensibilite.

Sense and Sensibility.

My friend says,
whoever the woman is

who wrote this book she knows
more about love than anyone else
in the world.

It's like someone who can't cook
writing a recipe book.

Passion is meant for the young.

It fades so quickly.
Not in our dreams.

Comfort remains, friendship remains.

If you are lucky as I was.

Happiness in marriage is
entirely a matter of chance.

But the fuss we make
of who to choose

and love still dies,
and money still vanishes.

And every woman - spinster,
wife, every woman has regrets,

so we read about your heroines

and feel young again

and in love, and full of hope,
as if we can make that choice again.

Do it right this time.

This is the gift which God
has given you.

It is enough, I think.

"For a few moments, her imagination
and her heart were bewitched.

"She had some feelings which she was
ashamed to investigate.

"They were too much like joy,
senseless joy. Anne hoped

"she had outlived the age of
blushing. The age of emotion

"she certainly had not. All the
overpowering, blinding, bewildering,

"first effects of strong
surprise were over with her,

"still, however,
she had enough to feel.

"It was agitation, pain, pleasure.

"Something between
delight and misery.

"The room seemed full of persons
and voices.

"A thousand feelings rushed
on Anne, of which this
was the most consoling.

"But it would soon be over."

Jane. Ready.

We're going to be late!

Coming!

Slowcoach!

Sanctify this water to the
mystical washing away of sin.

And grant that this child,
now to be baptised therein,

may receive the fullness of his
grace and ever remain in the number

of his faithful and elect children,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Let's go straight home.

It's just a bit of backache, really.
I'm well.

Don't make a fuss.

Poor animal, she'll be worn
out before she's 30.

Girls! Well, Fanny,
now you are almost an aunt,

you are a person of some
consequence.

You must excite great interest
whatever you do.

My dear, what is it?

Mr Plumptree's got engaged
to somebody else.

You could at least
try and be upset for me.

My dear, sweet, perverse Fanny,

you did not choose
to have him for yourself.

Why not allow him
to take comfort where he can?

I would have chosen him,
but you ruined it.

I did not. You laughed at him.

And every time I looked at him
I saw him through your eyes.

You frighten me out of my wits.

You cannot let anything depend on
the opinion of your maiden aunt.

Oh, don't worry, I know that now.

At your time of life, making
a spectacle of yourself with
that silly butterfly of a doctor!

Girls! In front of everyone.

Girls!
How could I ever have thought

you knew the first thing
about real life?

Girls, come this instant and admire
this beautiful little creature!

Isn't she lovely?
She has the Austen eyes, I think.

Haven't you, little beauty?
Yes, that's right.

Aunt Jane, I'd like you to meet
my Jemima.

Now I've met your Jemima, I'd like
to introduce you to my Emma.

Reading? You won't have time for
that sort of childishness now, Anna.

Take her for a moment,
will you, Jane?

There.

Oh, not like that!
She's not a sack of potatoes.

Look at the dear girl.

Clever as the day is long
but give her a baby
and she has no idea which end is up.

Hardly like a woman at all.

She doesn't mean to be cruel.

I know. You say that you are happy
and she takes you at your word.

I am happy, Cass.
Something happened to you in London.

Something between a man and an
angel.

Mr Haden was young, unsuitable,
and he thought himself
very clever and very fine.

And you thought him...?
I didn't think him anything at all.

Thinking didn't come into it.

My mind was not involved.

You take me back to feelings
I thought were long forgotten.

Feelings best left buried
for two old ladies like us.

You could have. No, I couldn't!

Yes, you could!
No! I'm happy too, Jane.

Stuck here,
looking after mother and me?

Well, someone has to do it.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Henry! Ssh! Don't wake Mother.

(We weren't expecting you
till tomorrow.)

It means I've lent too much and
I've borrowed too much and now...

Oh, God, Jane,
don't look at me like that.

Yes, my bank has collapsed,

which means, yes, I'm ruined.

Bankrupt. Edward could help you.

Edward has his lawsuit.

He has enough problems of his own.

Edward's already guaranteed my loans
up to £20,000.

I don't think
he'll ever see that money again.

Oh, Henry!

Oh, God. Now do you see?

I'll take the whole family
down with me. Mother!

Don't say a word.

I'll tell her myself.

I'll tell her tomorrow.

Wheee!

Where's she going now?
Oh, leave her be.

Do you want to go back?

I don't want anything.

I want to make more money.

I want you and Mother
to be comfortable...

and not always terrified
that our brothers are going to lose
the house and everything we have.

I want to shake off this
awful tiredness, and I can't.

We could take you to the seaside.

Nobody loses their appetite
at the seaside.

Nobody feels gloomy
at the seaside.

Nobody suddenly feels
so weak they can't stand.

Please, tell me
why you're angry with me.

Why should I be angry with you?

I'm angry with myself.

I can't be ill.

I have a book to finish.

I have so many characters
in my head, so many stories.

And so little time.

Jane, let me... Just leave me alone.

Ah-ah. I've saved that bit for
Henry.

Oh, please take it, Mr Papillon,
I'm quite full.

Where's your appetite today?

I wonder how many more she'll have.

Let's hope not as many
as your poor mother.

It's not like in the story books,
Fanny.

Books always end with weddings.
Leave Fanny alone, Mother,
you'll spoil the happy ending.

All the interesting business
happens after that.

Mrs Austen!

Like finding out that however much
you love the man you married,

you love your children more.

Right! Uncle Henry saves the day.

Henry!

On your way back to Ramsgate again,
Mr Bridges?

I fear there is
no escaping Ramsgate.

Oh!

Oh, Cassandra has caught you
very well.

I believe she has.

Sickness is a dangerous indulgence
at my time of life.

When we met in Kent,
I believe I spoke very rashly.

You're not going to be so ungallant
as to take it back now?

I wouldn't have prevented you from
writing, if that was your fear.

How could I have written
if we'd been married?

All the effort of mothering.

We'd have been too poor.

You're poor anyway.

We'd have made each other laugh.

Is THAT what marriage is?

I suppose no man of flesh and blood
would ever be worthy
of the creator of Mr Darcy.

You're all quite wrong about him.

He wouldn't have done for me at all.

If I had plucked up the courage
after we danced at the ball...

We'd have been too young.

And later, when I did ask you...

I simply went off the whole idea
of marrying anybody.

Tell me now you regret it.

Tell me now that sometimes
in the night you think of me.

Tell me even if it isn't true.

What on earth would be the point?

Henry has made a complete hash
of telling Mother.

She's talking very wildly,
old grudges resurfacing.

Whatever she says, Jane,
don't take it personally.

She's not angry with me at all.

I've had it with banking, Jane.
I'm going to become a vicar.

My sons have always done their best
for this family,

but she is a selfish, selfish girl.

I saw you with Mr Bridges,
flirting like a silly girl.

He's a married man.

If you wanted to be Mrs Bridges,
the vicar's wife,

you should've said yes
when he asked you. That's easy.

I didn't want to.

It's not as if you were waiting
for the rich man with the big house.

No, you've had that
and thrown it away!

You threw your life away. And mine!
And your sister's with it!

Because no, he wasn't good enough
for clever Miss Jane
with her fancy ideas.

No, she was worth much more than
Mr Harris Bigg with his stately home
and his thousand acres.

Oh, Mother, it was years ago.

Yes, 15 years.
It's engraved on my heart.

15 years since the night you let her
run away, like a spoilt child,
from marriage and security.

I couldn't marry a man
I didn't love!

Then why did you say yes to him?

"Yes, Harris, I will be Mrs Bigg."

I made a mistake.

Your mistake was to get up the next
morning and take your promise back.

What did you want me to do?
Sell myself for money?

We would've been rich.

Yes.

And what does that mean?

"Rich" is just another word
for "safe".

Oh, Mother, I beg you!
Don't you protect her.
You've done enough of that.

You sacrificed all our security
on a principle, Jane.

And has it made you happy?

Has it?

Look at you.

You're ill.

Nobody tells me anything,
but I have eyes in my head.

Oh, my poor lonely girl.

Aunt Jane! Not now, Fanny.

You said yes because he was rich
and no because you didn't love him.

That's so romantic.

Would you choose my life?

You can be angry with me, Fanny,

but don't you dare
feel sorry for me.

Harris Bigg, Brook Bridges,
Tom Lefroy.

All any one of those men might
have done is make me quite happy.

Quite happy is not enough.

Quite happy is not the ending
I want to write for my story.

And quite poor
is the absolute limit.

No, the only regret I have
about not marrying Harris Bigg

is that I'm going to die...

and I'm going to leave
you and Mother with nothing.

Oh, don't. Don't, don't, Jane.

It's my fault.

If I had stayed silent,
if I hadn't persuaded you...

All that night I nagged
and nagged you to change your mind.

I made you refuse him.

You made me see the choice
for what it was.

Because of me you chose loneliness
and poverty.

Because of you...

I chose freedom.

I didn't do it for you, Jane.

I know.

I'm so ashamed.

Everything I have

and everything I have achieved...

I owe to you,

to the life we have made here,

to the love that we have together.

This life I have...

is what I needed.

It's what God intended for me.

I'm so much happier
than I thought I'd be,

so much happier
than I deserve to be.

I am so thirsty.

FOOTSTEPS

Your mother sent me. Oh! Thank you.
Please let me see Aunt Jane.

Not now. Please. There's so much
I need to ask her. Maybe tomorrow.

Fanny?

I'm still going to marry
Mr Papillon.

So you're welcome to the horrid
old widower and his six children.

A widower with six children.

Jane was right as usual.

Annoying girl.

Dearly beloved,
we are gathered together here

in the sight of God
and in the face of this congregation

to join this man and
this woman together...

PEOPLE CHATTER AND LAUGH

Don't be sad, Aunt Cass.

Not tonight.

I'm more than happy for YOU, Fanny.

My husband says
I'm the only person in the world in
whose society he can find happiness.

I'm glad he knows how lucky he is.

What's that you're doing?

Don't worry.

I saved you the ones
where she mentions you. Don't!

You can't burn Aunt Jane's letters.

You still believe there's
a secret love story to uncover.

Maybe I still hope there is.

She was the sun of my life,

the gilder of every pleasure,

the soother of every sorrow.

I had not a thought
concealed from her,

and it's as if I lost
a part of myself.

My husband sent me
to ask you for a dance.

Your Aunt Jane
was the dancer in this family.

"When I look out on
such a night as this,

"I feel as if there could be neither
wickedness nor sorrow in the world."

"You are the delight of my life."

"Fanny,
listen to your own heart now."

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd