(snorts)
Well?
Can’t a man come to call for the young woman
who’s been abandoned in the wilds of Somerset?
And – and as it happens,
I know the vicar of Chuffington very well,
just – just down the road.
What could be more innocent than visiting the vicar of Chuffington?
Hmm?
(knocking)
Look out, Mary, and see who it is.
It be a gentleman, mum.
Louis? With whiskers, mum.
Oh, dear.
Emily, it’s Colonel Osborne.
Oh, dear, what are we going to do?
Go to the door, Mary,
and tell him there’s no one home.
No, wait.
It may be something of importance
concerning our father.
Do you intend to receive him?
Yes.
Nora and I will receive him together. With your permission.
Emily –
I won’t be treated like a guilty woman.
Let him in, Mary.
This is all very wrong.
Do you really think so? I know so.
Oh, dear, oh, dear.
Is he gone? Yes.
How I wish he’d never come. I, too.
And yet, what harm has he done, really?
That remains to be seen.
He’s made me look a fool, at all events.
Mr. Stanbury. How do you do? What are you doing here?
I’m going down to see my people at Nuncombe-Putney.
Really? What a coincidence.
I was at Nuncombe-Putney myself yesterday.
It’s a very pretty little place,
very charming indeed, yes.
May I ask if you went there to see Mrs. Trevelyan?
Well, d’you know, I’m not altogether sure
that’s any of your business, Stanbury.
Her husband has made it my business, Colonel Osborne.
And the lady is staying at my mother’s house.
I take it she’s not a prisoner in your mother’s house.
She is allowed visitors, is she not?
Have you seen her? I have.
Then you’ve done a great deal of harm to her.
What do you mean by forcing yourself on another man’s wife?
I have never forced myself on any woman! Upon my soul!
What harm can ensue if I choose to visit
the daughters of my oldest friend
when I happen to be in the country?
You’re a mischief-maker at best, and a blackguard at the worst.
I have never heard such impudence in my life! Good morning.
(whistles)
Mother! Here’s Hugh!
Have you seen Louis recently, Mr. Stanbury?
Hmm. Yes. The day before yesterday.
He seemed quite well.
Colonel Osborne has been here.
Yes, I know that.
I met him at the station platform at Lesborough.
Hmm.
Perhaps I shouldn’t say so,
but I wish he’d stayed away.
Yes, perhaps you shouldn’t say so,
for it really is nothing to concern you.
Did Louis send you to spy on me?
Emily.
He’s anxious about you.
I offered to come and see how you all were, that’s all.
(sighs) Forgive me.
Of course, you have every right to be here.
I have to say, I think Colonel Osborne did wrong in coming here.
He came to confirm the date of my parents’ visit
and satisfy himself for their sake that we were well.
Where is the wrong in that?
Hugh, he did not come especially to see us.
He was visiting a friend in Chuffington.
Louis ought to know that.
I shall make sure that he does.
And I hope I shall be able to set his mind at rest.
Now – how much of the country have you been able to see?
Have you been to Lindon Park?
No, not yet.
Then, shall we all go there tomorrow?
(laughter)
Whoooo!
Oh, Hugh, be careful!
Oh, he’s a fine, strong boy! Tough as coachman’s boots!
Ha ha ha!
Here we go. Mama will catch you.
Thank you.
Come, Miss Rowley, will you scramble down the bank with me?
Down there?
Why not?
Show us a lady can be as nimble as a man.
Or are you too dainty for such rough games?
Too dainty?
I suppose I am.
Yours is the loss, then.
Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!
The whole thing’s impossible.
You’re sure? Positive, Mr. Trevelyan.
I’m very sorry, sir.
What am I to do, Bozzle?
Watch, sir, and wait.
Bozzle will get your evidence, sir. Never you fear.
But what am I to do with my wife?
I can’t leave her where she is
now that Osborne’s found her out.
Are you planning a journey, sir?
I’m going abroad.
But I must see my wife safely settled first.
Well, if you don’t mind me saying so,
I should get her away from those Stanburys.
We know now they’re not to be trusted.
Find her respectable lodgings
where she can be watched night and day.
Clergyman’s family would be best –
they don’t come much more respectable than that.
My wife has an uncle who has a living in east London.
Well, there you are, sir.
Emily?
Whatever is the matter?
Louis.
We’ve been summoned back to London, Nora.
To Curzon Street?
No. To stay with our... Uncle Outhouse in the East End.
It seems we cannot be trusted here.
Emily, you must write and explain.
Let me write and explain that Colonel Osborne’s visit was quite innocent.
No.
I won’t grovel to a man who’s determined to believe
that I’m having an affair with my own godfather.
We may be subject to his whims,
but we can at least keep our dignity.
Good morning.
Ah, good morning, Camilla. Good morning.
Mrs. French. Good morning.
Good-bye. Good-bye.
Miss Stanbury. And Miss Dorothy Stanbury.
Delighted.
Dorothy, my dear,
don’t you think it would be a good thing
if you were to become Mrs. Gibson?
I don’t know. I do.
I’ve been thinking about it ever since you came.
But I think he likes Miss French. Which of them?
He’s a fool if he don’t prefer you to them.
And he will.
I’ll tell you what is is, because I hate all mysteries.
I have saved £2,000,
which I put you down for in my will.
Now, if you and he can make it up together,
I’ll give you the money at once.
Mr. Gibson knows the value of a bird in the hand
as well as anybody.
And those French girls will never have more than
a couple of hundred each.
He knows that, too.
So, what do you think of that?
I don’t know.
I think Mr. Gibson preaches very dull sermons.
Oh, bother his sermons. He’s a very good clergyman.
The dean thinks very much about him.
And so might you, if you put your mind to it.
Well...Emily.
Well, Nora.
Uncle Oliphant.
I hope you’re not angry with us
for throwing ourselves on your mercy.
Mind you...
how could we be angry with you, my dear?
It’s our Christian duty
to welcome you to this, our...
humble home.
It’s most unfortunate, most unfortunate, indeed,
but you are very welcome.
(organ plays)
(knocks)
If you please, mum,
Mr. Stanbury.
Sir. Good morning.
Mr. Stanbury is a friend of my husband’s.
I see.
He has been very helpful to us.
Very well.
So, what brings you here today, Mr. Stanbury?
I come as a messenger from Louis.
He sends money by me.
He’s very near,
at the Full Moon Public House at the corner.
If he wants to see me, why doesn’t he come here himself?
I tried to persuade him, but he’d have none of it, I’m afraid.
He’s going abroad...
and would like to see Louis before he leaves.
Just for half hour.
If you will allow it. And what else?
Was there no other message to me?
No.
Hugh: There we are.
Look who this is. It’s your papa.
Come here, my boy.
Oh...
(crying) There, there.
There there.
You see? This is what she’s taught him.
Not a bit of it. He’s just not used to you, that’s all.
It’s two months since he’s seen you.
This is your papa, Louis. You mustn’t be shy of him.
He loves you very much.
All we can hope is that a change of scenery
will bring about a change of heart.
He loves his boy dearly,
and I believe he still loves you.
Come on, my darling.
Papa has to go away, but he’ll be back one day,
and we’ll all be happy again.
Look here, I can’t stand this awkwardness between us.
I don’t think it’s any of my making.
Yes. My own stupidity.
Nora, you must know that I love you
and I want you to be my wife.
But...you’ve said nothing.
How was I to know?
You’ve barely spoken two words to me this year.
Let me remedy it now.
I’ve loved you from the very first moment I saw you,
and you must know it.
I’ve told myself more than once
I’ve no right to speak to you.
Poor devil like me, living from hand to mouth.
And you and ambassador’s daughter and all that.
But I’m sick of moping about without daring to speak out.
I love you.
There it is.
Will you marry me?
How can you be so urgent?
What other chance am I going to get?
Nora, I love you. Do you love me?
Yes.
Then there’s nothing else to say.
Come here.
Mr. Stanbury!
I cannot allow this sort of thing in my house!
What sort of thing, Mrs. Outhouse?
The sort of thing that has just been going on!
I’m sorry to be be uncivil,
but I must ask you not to come here anymore
or to correspond with my niece.
(knocks)
Mr. Brooke. How nice to see you. Martha.
Dorothy, this is Mr. Brooke Burgess, my nephew.
Come all the way from London to see his old aunt.
How do you do? I know your brother very well. or used to, I should say.
Yes, he’s spoken of you often.
How is the dear chap? We never speak of him.
Oh, dear. In trouble, is he?
I was always in trouble when I came here as a boy.
But unlike some, you’ve turned out very well.
Wouldn’t be too sure of that, aunt.
Well, I hope you’re fond of company, Brooke,
we shall be fourteen at dinner. Splendid!
Don’t you remember? I used to chase your cat, Mrs. MacHugh.
Quick, ginger beast, he was. Alfred!
Alfred, he was.
And aunt was so cross, she chased me three times round the garden...
This, um, Mr. Brooke Burgess seems...
very animated.
I think he’s a very amiable gentleman.
Well, yes, in a sort of a way.
What people call a “Merry Andrew.”
I like people who make me laugh.
But there are serious things, too, you know.
And there must be serious moments, I believe.
Yes...of course.
Your aunt is a...
is a most excellent woman, but in her choice of heir...
Still, I gather there is some strange involvement with his family.
An old romance, they say.
Anyway, I admire you very much for showing no discontent.
Why should I be discontented?
Hmm. Admirable.
Of course, she may leave her fortune
to Mr. Burgess if she chooses,
and your feelings are just as they should be.
And for myself, I...
I feel no resentment either.
2,000 is...well, it’s very generous.
(laughter)
Miss Stanbury –
Dorothy, if I may –
let me take this opportunity to express my most ardent –
(loud laughter)
Really, this levity is hardly in accordance
with the sentiments I’m trying to express.
Dorothy –
I think I should go to my aunt now, Mr. Gibson, as...
perhaps she might want something.
(laughter continues)
(knocking)
Come in.
Yes?
What is it, child?
If I tell you something, Aunt Stanbury,
you mustn’t be angry with me.
Tell me what?
What do you have to tell me?
I don’t care for Mr. Gibson, and I don’t think I ever shall.
Not in that way.
You can’t want me to marry a man if I don’t love him.
I never heard of such a thing in my life.
Not love him? Why shouldn’t you love him?
He’s a gentleman. Everybody respects him.
And if you marry him, you’ll be comfortable all your life.
Are you telling me that he has spoken
and that you’ve refused him?
No. He was beginning to, I think,
but I got away from him before he could.
He thinks very highly of you, Dolly.
Would you break the poor man’s heart?
I don’t think there’s any danger of that, aunt.
I don’t believe he really cares for me at all.
I think –
Well, I think he cares a great deal for the money
he should get if he married me.
What a thing to say!
Have you seen somebody you like better?
No.
Well... Well, that is to say...
That is to say what?
Now, listen to me.
You better think well on this.
You may never get another chance to be married at all.
And I’m sure you’ll never get the chance
at being married so well.
So, you go to bed and sleep on it.
And by the morning perhaps you’ll find
you can love him as well as anybody.
(loudspeaker blares destinations)
Good morning.
I have an inside seat
reserved in the name of Trevelyan.
There we are, monsieur. Please take a seat.
Your coach leaves in one hour.
Thank you.
Two first class to Paris, please.
But this is outrageous!
(speaking French)
Look here. These are our reservations.
Alas, mademoiselle. All the inside seats are taken.
We have paid for inside seats,
and we demand to have what we paid for!
Man: Please, let me offer you my seat.
I enjoy the fresh air on my face.
You’re very kind, sir,
but I shouldn’t want to be parted from my sister.
Take my seat, mademoiselle.
It doesn’t matter to me where I sit.
Thank you, sir.
Trevelyan. How do you do, Glascock?
Can we offer you some refreshment, ladies?
The buffet here does an excellent breakfast.
Not for me, Glascock.
Come on, man, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.
Let us treat you, as you’ve been so kind.
Thank you. You’re very kind.
May we ask where you’re traveling to, gentlemen?
I shall stop a night or two in Florence
and then on to Naples.
My father lives there.
How is Lord Peter?
Very poorly, I’m afraid.
But he’s had a long life, and a good one.
We’re going to Florence.
Our uncle is the United States Minister of State there.
Indeed? And you, sir?
No fixed plans.
Well, if you do come to Florence, be sure to look us up.
The coach is ready for boarding, my lord.
Thank you, Tim.
American woman: There.
After all we’ve said about Englishmen,
those two are quite charming.
“Mr. Glascock”? “Lord Peter”?
“My lord.”
Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous in this day and age?
What about his man in livery buttons?
I thought his man looked kind of cute.
Of course, they should all be done away with,
all those lords and dukes.
Strung up from a lamp post, tarred and feathered?
Run out of town on a rail?
I absolutely agree with you.
Although I think we might make an exception for Mr. Glascock.
(laughs)
Shall you going on with us all to Florence, Trevelyan?
No, unfortunately I have to stay in Turin for a while.
I’m not sure how long.
I have to wait there for a letter from London.
From Mrs. Trevelyan? No.
Not from Mrs. Trevelyan.
I expect no letter from Mrs. Trevelyan.
Mr. Gibson.
Were you on your way to Miss Stanbury’s house?
Yes. Yes. No – um, uh – That is to say, I was –
You’re there a good deal these days.
We’ve been feeling quite neglected.
Miss Stanbury has always been a – a staunch friend of mine.
And what about her niece?
One cannot help what one hears, you know,
but we should be very sorry to believe any of it.
So should I.
Er, believe what?
That Miss Stanbury’s niece has stolen your heart.
I wonder why people make these reports?
Then you haven’t forsaken us?
Forsaken you?
No. No, no, no. Of course not.
(bells ring)
Good Lord, is that the time?
Well, seven years of flirtation is wearing to the soul.
And it’s not as though I ever made
any hard-and-fast promises to either of them.
Not really.
What if Anabella does think herself guilty,
what injury can she do me?
Dorothy is a delightful young woman
with or without £2,000.
All right, especially with.
A man must be practical.
Oh, Mr. Gibson.
Miss Stanbury. What is it?
Is something the matter with dear Dorothy?
She is the most obstinate, pig-headed young woman
I ever came across since the world began.
You don’t say so. What is it?
She won’t come down and speak to you.
Why? Have I offended her?
Offended her, fiddlestick!
She came into my room before I was up
and told me she’d made up her mind.
I’ve coaxed and scolded and threatened,
but if she’d been a milestone,
it couldn’t have been of less use.
All she will say is she doesn’t like you.
Oh.
You think she’ll ever come round, Miss Stanbury?
I don’t think she’ll ever come
any way she doesn’t want to come.
Oh, I see.
And is this the only explanation I am to receive?
I beg your pardon?
I’ve been led to believe your niece was a girl
of good character and well brought up.
And now I find I’ve been led up the garden path.
She’s nothing but a headstrong, willful –
Mr. Gibson.
I will hear no more of this.
I may speak a few words about my niece now and then,
but you certainly may not!
And if you want to know what is to blame for all of this,
it’s your making a spectacle of yourself
by philandering after those French girls.
And any other girl who happens to catch your eye.
Miss Stanbury!
I think I’d better take my leave for the present.
I think you had better, Mr. Gibson.
Yes, he’s gone.
You may creep in, uncaring girl.
I’m sorry, Aunt Stanbury.
I’ve disgraced myself to that man
promising what I couldn’t perform.
Why didn’t you tell me at once you didn’t like him?
I...hadn’t made up my mind.
Nonsense. I believe you made up your mind the first time you saw him.
And...looking through your eyes...
I can see you were right.
He’s a poor sort of man.
And I was a fool to think he’d do for you.
It wasn’t that. I’d never say that.
It was just that I couldn’t ever love him.
Of course you couldn’t. How could you?
How could anybody?
Better to stay an old maid all your life, as I did.
That’s what I thought.
Well, that’s settled, then.
I don’t know what all the fuss was about.
How did this happen to me?
Two months ago I was a happy man with a wife who loved me.
What am I doing in this town full of strangers,
far from home, waiting for a letter
not from my wife but from...
Bozzle?
Oh ho.
I do believe it’s Mr. Fox come to get among the chickens.
If you please, sir,
There’s a gentleman to see you.
A gentleman?
What gentleman?
My name is Colonel Osborne, Mr. Outhouse.
Perhaps you know my name.
Indeed I do, sir.
I’m just returned from Scotland, on my way to Dorset.
But I couldn’t come through London without calling upon you.
You’ve never called up on me before, sir.
What business might you have with me now?
This is frightful,
this delusion Trevelyan is laboring under,
and, on my honor as a gentleman,
not the slightest cause in the world.
I should hope not, sir,
As you are old enough to be the lady’s father.
Just so.
I have known her father for many years.
I’m a friend of the family.
I’ve known Emily since she was a baby.
Now, I’m not demanding to see her,
if you think that would be improper –
it would be imprudent, Colonel Osborne,
and it would not be permitted in this house.
Oh.
But she is well? Emily, I mean?
Mrs. Trevelyan is in good health.
Then would you tell her, though I couldn’t see her,
I came to ask after her
the first moment I was in London?
I wish you had not, Colonel Osborne.
I shall see her when Sir Marmaduke is in London.
That may be. She will be in her father’s care then,
not mine.
While she is in my care,
and my house,
you will not see her or speak to her, sir.
Then I wish you a very good day, sir.
Bozzle: “The fox has been at the chicken coop,
“Mr. Trevelyan,
“doubtless invited there by Mrs. T.
“When a lady wants to see a gentleman, she will, sir.
“And there’s no stopping her.
“That’s the way they are.
“He’s leaving town, sir,
“and it’s just possible she may leave town with him.
Yours most respectfully, S. Bozzle.”
It can’t be true.
And yet it is true.
When a lady want to see a gentleman, she will.
He came to her and was admitted.
She let him in.
Bozzle’s the lowest of the low,
but he wouldn’t lie about the fact...
He came to her, and she let him in.
My Emily.
My dear Emily.
How could she betray me with this man, of all men?
Well...
at least I can save one part of my life
from this sorry mess.
“Sir, you have betrayed your trust
“and you have disgraced yourself as a clergyman
“in admitting Colonel Osborne to intercourse with my wife.
“As to her, I would wish her to know
“that after what has now taken place,
“I cannot leave our child any longer in her care...
and I shall take steps for having him removed.”
The man is mad.
Take little Louis? He can’t do that.
He can’t.
Unfortunately,
he has a perfect legal right.
Are we his property, then?
I’m afraid, Emily,
In effect, you are.
So he can treat us as though we were his dogs or his horses?
But he wouldn’t.
I think he might do anything
if he thought it would hurt me badly enough.
I don’t think he would do anything so audacious.
In any event, you’re quite safe while you are here.
I did not seek this duty of care.
But no one can accuse me of taking it lightly.
I shall tell your husband what I told Colonel Osborne.
So long as you are under my protection, no harm will come to you.
And I will defend you against those
that seek to harm you or your child.
Even to the last drop of my blood!
Oh, Oliphant!
Would he really –
really do such a thing?
To hurt me? To hurt himself?
To hurt his little boy?
Is this what love becomes?
I married a man who was kind and gentle.
What have I done to him that he should do this to me?
(small orchestra plays)
(guests converse in Italian)
(gasps) Look!
He’s come all the way back from Naples just to see you!
I’m sure he has. After all,
there’s nothing else to see in Florence except me.
There.
You see?
Oh, Lord.
I’m sure all this will end in tears.
Good evening.
Have you ever visited the States, Mr. Glascock?
I never have, madam. You wouldn’t like it.
Why not? Because you’re an aristocrat.
And why should that prevent me from liking it?
One half of the people would run after you,
and the other half would run away from you.
On principle. Revolutionary principle?
Democratic principle.
And may I ask which half you’d be in?
The second half, of course.
You’re not running away from me now.
No, I’m not, am I? But I think I shall have to before too long.
Well, that would make me sad.
It would make me sad, too, but there we are.
I think it has to be done.
The old world and the new are like oil and vinegar.
We may be polite to each other in society,
but deep down, you believe we’re an inferior race,
and deep down, we’d like to smash your outdated,
snobbish institutions and make you like us –
free and equal.
Well, all Englishman are free,
and we’re all equal in the eyes of God.
Oh, and doesn’t that excuse a great deal of iniquity?
We freed our slaves, Mr. Glascock.
We never had slaves, Miss Spalding.
No, you just traded in them.
Not me, personally.
And my father was very active in the abolition movement.
None of this is personal, Mr. Glascock.
I’m relieved to hear it. But it is a problem.
Oil and vinegar. Exactly.
Hmm...
Consider mayonnaise.
A precarious mixture, admittedly.
Liable to separate, and disastrous when it curdles.
But a successful mayonnaise...
Well, that can be quite delicious.
Don’t you think?
I have been grossly misused.
I am promised a young woman with £2,000,
and when I come to make my proposal,
the niece won’t see me and the aunt turns me out of her house.
Well, there are other houses in Wells
where I am more than welcome.
(knocks)
Oh. Mr. Gibson.
We weren’t sure you’d come.
Mama and Camilla have gone out to Mrs. Cammedge’s.
Ah.
Well, um... perhaps in that case –
No, no. Mama would never forgive me. Come in. Do.
Um... Mr. Gibson.
Is it true what everybody is saying?
And what is that?
Why, Dorothy Stanbury wanted to marry you,
but you...spurned her.
Well, ah...
a gentleman never speaks of such things,
but, uh...
Cruel man.
Oh, Mr. Gibson.
I have known you so long,
and valued your friendship so...
so deeply.
More than any other friendship in my life.
And...
one ought to sacrifice...
everything to friendship, I believe.
Ah, quite. Everything.
Except self-respect.
Mr. Gibson...
Do you mean I have lost your respect?
No, no, certainly not, Miss French.
“Miss French”? You used to call me Bella.
We used to be such...good friends.
And now I don’t think you like anymore.
Indeed I do. I’ve always liked you, but –
But what?
Do tell what that terrible “but” means.
I will do anything that you bid me.
Well...
D’you know...
I don’t think that the way that you...
wear your hair these days
quite suits you.
That is, not so well as the way that you used to do it.
Oh, Lord.
(sniffling)
I’ve made a promise and I shall keep it.
I said I would do anything that you bid me.
You will never see my chignon again.
Well, I – I think a little hair at the back is...
is very nice.
It will be gone tomorrow.
Then you will understand I would do anything for you.
Anything.
What’s this, mother?
You know what it is. We can’t go on living here
now Mrs. Trevelyan and her sister are gone.
It’s madness to move now.
The rent must be paid ’til Christmas, at any rate.
There are many other expenses, as you know.
We can’t afford to go on living here.
Priscilla, haven’t I told you a hundred times,
I’ll bear the expense.
Now stop all this, sit down, be comfortable,
and I’ll tell the man to bring the things back.
No.
You’re very good, but you must allow us to have feelings
as well as yourself.
We don’t want to pretend to be grand ladies
on your earnings, which you know are precarious.
What would we do if you lost your job?
How can I answer that?
What you do if plague and famine swept the land? Oh, Hugh!
One must hope these things don’t happen, that’s all.
And why should they?
We need to feel we can look after ourselves.
And we can do that in Simms’ cottage.
Anything else you like to give us out of your earnings,
we’re not too proud to accept it,
but I couldn’t go on living in this great house
while you’re paying for it. And I will not.
Mother – Mother agrees with me.
I’ve never heard of anything so pig-headed in all my life.
Don’t be angry with me, Hugh.
Well, why won’t you let me do anything?
You can give me a kiss, if you will.
And make friends.
Aunt Stanbury: It’s an absolute disgrace.
And they shall hear of it, and so shall he!
What is it, aunt?
I’ve just been with my friend Mrs. Clifford,
and she tells me that the French sisters
have been going about saying
that you made a set at Mr. Gibson
and wanted to marry him, but he turned you down.
Oh.
I do believe I shall go to their house this minute
and have it out with them.
I wish you wouldn’t.
People will only talk the more.
But the truth is the truth, Dolly.
And when lies are allowed to go unchallenged,
chaos is come again.
If you please, mum, it’s Miss – Mrs. French.
I have called today for a particular purpose,
and I must address myself chiefly to your daughters.
Oh. Well, certainly.
Have you been going about Wells
talking about my niece Dorothy?
And saying that Mr. Gibson authorized you
to make a certain statement about her?
A statement which cannot be true?
But it is true.
What is true?
That people have been saying that Mr. Gibson
was to be married to your niece Dorothy,
but that he had never had the remotest intention of making her his wife.
He told Bella so.
And more, besides.
I’m sure we don’t want to give any offense to your niece.
She doesn’t care two straws about it. It’s I who care.
I won’t have lies spread about her.
And I don’t believe that Mr. Gibson said anything of the kind.
That’s simple. Bella?
Indeed, Miss Stanbury, he did.
Then he’s a bare-faced liar.
Maid: If you please, mum –
How do you do, Mr. Gibson?
I am here to put a small matter right
in which you are concerned.
Miss Camilla French has just told me
that you authorized her – or her sister –
to say that you never entertained any notion
of marrying my niece,
that she had thrown herself at your head
and been rejected.
What do you have to say to that?
Tell her, Mr. Gibson.
I – I don’t think we ought to talk about a young lady in this way.
All you have to say is yes or no, Mr. Gibson.
Now let me have your answer.
My dear Miss Stanbury, I really think it better –
Um...
Ah...the – the situation is so peculiar, I – I –
I hardly know how not to give offense.
Um – ah –
I really think I’d better hold my tongue.
If that be so, then I will speak out.
Mr. Gibson did come to make an offer to my niece,
but she refused to see him
because she doesn’t care for him.
And upon my word, I think she was right.
We should never have said a word,
but when these false assertions are made
on Mr. Gibson’s alleged authority
and Mr. Gibson won’t deny it,
then I must tell the truth.
Mr. Gibson, is that true,
that you wanted to marry my niece
and were refused?
(stammering)
Is it as true as heaven!
And now, you had all better hold your tongues about my niece.
And she will hold her tongue about you.
And as for Mr. Gibson,
anybody who wants him after this will be welcome to him.
Good morning, Mrs. French.
Good morning...young ladies.
Mama...
I have such a headache, I think I will go upstairs.
Camilla, go and see to your sister.
Oh, I – I’m ruined.
(sighs)
Not necessarily.
If you are now to be married,
my dear Mr. Gibson,
who would think you had ever thought
of anything or anyone else?
If I were now to be married?
Yes.
But who can I marry?
Mr. Gibson, there are two young ladies very near
who hold you in very high esteem,
despite your...
shall we say your doubts and waverings.
Yes.
But...
which one?
Listen to what your heart tells you.
Camilla?
(quietly snoring)
(door opens)
(whispers) She’s had a very busy day.
Setting the world to rights about this and that, no doubt.
Yes.
You know, I’m back off to London first thing tomorrow, Dorothy.
Yes. We shall miss you.
I’ll try not to stay away too long.
But a man must work.
I’m very glad you’re not going to be Mrs. Gibson.
I don’t know why you should be glad.
Because I shouldn’t have liked your husband.
He’s an excellent man, I’m sure.
No. No, I don’t think he is.
However, I congratulate you on your escape.
You would have been nothing to me as Mrs. Gibson.
Shouldn’t I?
But now I think we shall always be friends.
Will you say good-bye to the old lady for me?
I shall be gone in the morning before she arises.
Good night.
(door closes)
You came.
No, stop it. This is very wrong.
You don’t really believe that, do you?
No, not at all, but others would.
I haven’t told anyone I’m here, not even Emily.
I simply couldn’t wait ’til your father came.
Nor could I.
I can’t offer you much, Nora. Not at the moment.
I don’t care about that.
I know we can’t afford to marry yet...
but I want to be sure of you.
I can’t bear to think of living life without you.
So, will you consent to an engagement?
Yes. Yes, of course.
I’ve been engaged to you in my heart ever since
you first told me you love me.
Dear Nora, now that I know that, I can wait as long as I have to.
I’m not sure that I can.
But I think I can be good until papa comes home.
Emily: There you are.
Where did you go?
Just for a walk.
Oh, Emily, I’ve been with Hugh.
He wrote to me and we met in the park.
And he asked me to marry him, and I said I would.
Please don’t tell me it was wrong of me.
Who am I to do that? Nora, I’m so happy for you!
Papa won’t like it.
Especially when he hears you refused Mr. Glascock.
But it will all come right, won’t it?
I’m sure it will.
And for you too, dear.
Dear Emily, it will come right for you too, I’m sure of it.
“I hereby give full authority
“to Mr. Samuel Bozzle of 55 Stony Walk
“to claim an enforced possession
“on the body of my child Louis Trevelyan.
“And I require that any persons whatsoever
“who may now have the custody of the said child
“shall at once deliver him up to Mr. Bozzle
on the production of this authority.”
And it’s signed “Louis Trevelyan.”
Now, that is what I call a legal, binding document.
Don’t do it, Bozzle.
I’m charged with it, Susan, it’s my duty.
A child belongs with its mother.
Not according to the law.
Well, then, the law’s a fool,
and so are you if you get yourself mixed up in this.
You don’t know Mr. Trevelyan.
He knows his rights,
and he’ll have that child one way or another.
So, it might as well be me that does it,
proper-like and legal.
I shall go to St. Ditoff’s directly and fetch the child.
Stop it, Bozzle. You’ll regret it.
Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.
And what will you do with the baby
when you’ve got it, with the father away in Italy?
You needn’t think you can bring it back here.
I’m not gettin’ mixed up in stealin’ another woman’s child.
She’ll come ’round.
She’s got a very tender heart, Susan – despite appearances.
There now, look at that.
Eating up like a stout little soldier.
If you please, sir,
there’s a person in the hall asking to see you.
A person? What sort of person?
I couldn’t say, sir.
Show him into my study. I’ll see him there.
Maid: This way, sir.
Yes, sir?
My name is Samuel Bozzle, sir, representing Mr. Trevelyan.
Late of the force, sir, but I’m workin’ on me own now.
And what do you want with me, Mr. Bozzle?
Well, sir, it’s not so much with you
as with the lady I saw just now.
And it’s not so much with the lady
as it is with her little boy.
Then you may as well go away at once.
Read that if you would, sir.
No doubt you know the gent’s fist,
and if you don’t, the lady does.
I think you’ll agree this gives me the authority to take the child.
Take it away, Mr. Bozzle. and take yourself away, too.
Not without the child, sir.
Go.
You’re not disputin’ a paternal parent’s legal authority.
That child will not be surrendered
without a court order.
Mr. Bozzle, I believe you’re a knave.
A knave, Mr. Outhouse? Yes, sir.
A knave.
No one who was not a knave
would try and separate a little child from its mother.
And knave as you are,
I don’t believe you’re fool enough
to think you could get away with this.
Could I have a word with the young lady, sir?
You will not see or speak to any lady here, sir.
And if you don’t get out of my house when I tell you,
I’ll send for a real policeman.
I think you might regret that remark, sir.
Out.
Very good, sir.
But I shall return.
Oliphant: That man was a policeman,
and he means to bring an action against me.
A policeman! Well, an ex-policeman.
Sent by Trevelyan for the child.
Little Louis must not be given up!
It’s all very well to say that,
but I suppose we must obey the law
if Trevelyan obtains a court order for the child.
This is a parsonage,
not some castle in the Pennines.
It’s all over the parish now
that my niece is kept here, away from her husband,
and her lover comes to see her.
Soon they’ll be saying
we have been visited by the police.
It is not the reputation I’ve ever wished to cultivate,
and I don’t deserve it.
Bozzle: “I went to the parsonage as instructed
“and was very ill-received by the Reverend,
“who allowed himself some remarks about me
“that might be actionable.
“It’s my belief that they won’t give the little chap up
“unless they’re forced to,
“and Bozzle is not the man to do the forcing, Mr. Trevelyan.
“It’s a heavy step to take a child from his mother, sir.
“Mrs. Bozzle has a good deal to say on the subject,
“and the upshot is, sir...
“the boy may have to be snatched.
“And that would be a very heavy step, indeed.
“But if you insist upon it,
“better that Bozzle should carry out the deed than another.
“Awaiting your further instructions,
“I remain, sir, yours respectfully,
Samuel Bozzle.”
Crier: Victoria Station!
Final destination for all passengers!
Woman: He’s coming here?
Couldn’t put him off, Susan.
When you’ve took a gent’s money,
you’re obliged to go through with the job.
Gammon, Bozzle. I has to see him right.
But he ain’t in the right, is he?
The paternal parent has a right to his infants.
What’s he gonna do with ’em when he gets ’em?
(knock on door) That’s him.
(baby crying)
Mr. Trevelyan, come in, sir.
Here we are, sir.
Mrs. Bozzle.
This is our own little chap.
Give him your finger, sir. He’ll take it.
Is there perhaps a place where we can talk?
(crying continues)
Cloth lot, sir, if you prefer, sir.
Well?
There hasn’t been nothin’ to be done, sir,
Not with things as they stand.
Why not?
They won’t give the child up, sir.
Not without a court order and bailiffs.
Does he question my right to have the care of my own child,
after all that has happened?
Do I have to drag her through the courts?
I believe you must, sir,
or leave the child with the lady, sir.