Howards End (1992) - full transcript

Encounter of three social classes of England at the beginning of the 20th century : the Victorian capitalists (the Wilcoxes) considering themselves as aristocrats, whose only god is money ; the enlightened bourgeois (the Schlegels), humanistic and philanthropic ; and the workers (the Basts), fighting to survive. The Schlegel sisters' humanism will be torn apart as they try both to softly knock down the Wilcox's prejudices and to help the Basts.

- Now, now, Charles, that's
not being chivalrous.

- And don't worry, Mr. Wilcox.

There's no place in
this game for chivalry.

It tends to bring out
the animal in all of us.

Evie, not fair!

- "Dearest Meg, I'm
having a glorious time.

"I like them all.

"They are the very
happiest, jolliest

"family that you could imagine.

"The fun of it is that
they think me a noodle

"and say so, at least
Ms. Wilcox does.

"Oh, Meg, shall we ever
learn to talk less?

"Oh, but, Meg, Meg,
dearest, dearest Meg,

"I don't know what to
say or what you will say.

"Paul Wilcox and I are in love.

"We are engaged."


- Well, you Schlegel girls.

- Tibby, look.

- Margaret, if I may interfere,
what on earth is going on?

- I can tell you
nothing, Aunt Juley.

I know no more than you do.

We only met the
Wilcoxes last spring

while we were hiking in Germany.

- Oh, dear.

Obviously, someone
must go down to

this Howards House
and make inquiries.

- Howards End.

- No, Margaret,
inquiries are necessary.

What do we know
about these Wilcoxes?

Are they our sort?

Are they likely people?

- But Aunt Juley,
what does it matter?

Helen's in love.

That's all I need to know.

- Would you please get me
a train timetable, dear?

- Morning.

- Morning.

- Paul?

- I'm afraid Crane
has reported sick again.

- But he was to take me

to the Warringtons
today for tennis.

I told him.

- Probably shamming, of course.

You should get rid
of him, Father.

Hire a new chauffeur.

Mother, we're off, goodbye.

- But Charlie,
Charlie, wait, wait!

- What?

- Is Papa there?

Wait a minute.

We've got some cherries.


- All right, we're off!

- Bye-bye.

- About last night.

- Nothing happened.

- I'm afraid I lost
my head, rather.

- Yes, we both did.

It must have been the moonlight,
except there was no moon.

Well, that's quite all right.

- Do you mind?

- No.

- You see, I've no
money of my own,

and I still have to
make my way in Nigeria.

It's beastly out there
for a white woman,

what with the climate and
the natives and all that.

I say, I do think
you're a ripping girl.

- It's quite all right.

No one knows about it.

Meg, I wrote to my sister.

- Oh no, you didn't.

- Yes, I'm sorry.

Look, she's sure to come down.

We must stop her.

- We'll have to send a telegram.

Oh, Crane's off sick.

- Isn't there a bicycle?

- Oh yes, there is, somewhere.

- That will be one

and threepence, halfpenny, sir.

- M.J. Schlegel, Six
Wickham Place, London, West.

Dear Meg, all over.

Wish I'd never written.

Tell no one, Helen.

- Excuse me, I'm looking for
somewhere called Howards House.

- My parcel?

- The porter has it.

- Mr. Wilcox, this
lady wants Howards End.

- Forgive my asking, are you the

younger Mr. Wilcox or the elder?

- The younger, ah.

This station's
abominably organized.

If I had my way, the whole lot
of them should get the sack.

Thank you. Bernard.

- Thank you. Sir.

- Perhaps I should
introduce myself.

I am Ms. Schlegel's aunt.

- Oh, rather, yes, Ms.
Schlegel's stopping with us.

Do you want to see her?

- Well, that would
be very nice, yes.

- I could run you
up in the motor.

- All the Schlegels
are exceptional.

They are, of course,
British to the backbone

but their father was
German, and that is why

they care for
literature and art.

- Just one minute.

Wilcox, Howards End.

- I'd like you to
know that I come

in no spirit of interference.

I'm here to represent the
family, and to talk to you

about Helen, Mr. Wilcox,
my niece and you.

- Ms. Schlegel and myself?

- I trust there's been
no misunderstanding.

- Well, it is true that I am
engaged to be married

but to another young
lady, not to Ms. Schlegel.

- Helen wrote to us,
Mr. Wilcox.

She has told us everything.

- Good God, it's some
foolery of Paul's.

- But you are Paul.

- No, I'm not.

- Then why did you
say so at the station?

- I said nothing of the sort.

- I beg your pardon, you did.

- I beg your pardon, I did not.

My name is Charles.

Do you mean to tell me that
Paul and your niece have...

The idiot!

Damn fool!

Look, I warn you.

It's useless.

Paul hasn't a penny.

- No need to warn us.

The warning is
all the other way.

- Oh, but he hasn't told
us, whereas your niece

has lost no time in
publishing the news.

- If I were a man,
Mr. Wilcox, for that

last remark, I'd box your ears.

You're not fit to sit in
the same room as my niece.

- All I know is she
spread the news—

- Might I finish my
sentence, please?

- No, I decline to argue
with such a person!

Let me out of this
car this instant!

- Don't try and stand up!

- Stop, stop!
- Sit down, sit down!

- Stop!
- Just sit down!

For goodness sakes, just...

Push it down.

- It's all right.

- It will, I think, be generally

admitted that Beethoven's
Fifth Symphony

is the most sublime
noise ever to

have penetrated the ear of man.

What does it mean?

We can hardly fail to
recognize in this music

a mighty drama, the
struggle of a hero

beset by perils,
riding to magnificent

victory and ultimate
triumph, as described

in the development section
of the first movement.

What I want to draw
your attention to now

is the third movement.

We no longer hear the
hero, but a goblin.

Thank you, Mother.

- A single, solitary goblin,

walking across the universe,

from beginning to end.

- Why a goblin?

- I beg your pardon?

- Why a goblin?

- Well, it's obvious.

The goblin signifies
the spirit of negation.

- But why specifically
a goblin?

- Panic and emptiness, that
is what the goblin signifies.

Minor, spelling panic.

Major, magnificent.

A hero, triumphant.

- Miss.

Excuse me, Miss, my umbrella.


Miss, miss!

- Mrs. Wilcox, I haven't
got her wedding dress wet.

- Hurry up, Charles.

- Go on, in you go.

Paul, my hat's in your hand.

- Goodbye.

See you there.

- What astonishing bad
luck, that in the whole

of London, they could
find no flat to rent

except the one bottled right
up against our library window.

- Who could find no flat?

- Oh Tibby, the Wilcoxes.

Surely even you
remember that business

last summer with
Helen and Paul Wilcox.

- Paul Wilcox.

The one I was expected to thrash
within an inch of his life?

- Oh, miss!

- What is it?

- Is Tibby ill?

- Tibby's making tea.

- Oh, well, if it's
nothing worse than that.

- Now, Helen, oh dear,
something odd has happened.

Promise me you won't mind.

It's the Wilcoxes.

They've taken the
flat opposite for

the wedding of their
son, the other son.

You do mind.

- Will Paul Wilcox point
at our house and say,

"There lives the girl
who tried to catch me?"

- Ridiculous.

They've only taken the flat for

a few weeks, the porter said.

- Do we bow, or do
we cut them dead?

- Darling, why don't you take
up Cousin Frieda's invitation

and go to Hamburg
for those few weeks?

- Yes, I think I shall.

Not that it matters, but...

one wouldn't want to keep
bumping into Wilcoxes.

- Don't hog all
those scones, Tibby.

- Is that young man
for us, do you suppose?

He is for us.

- If you'll pardon me,
Miss, you took my umbrella.

Quite inadvertently, I'm sure.

At the Ethical Hall,
"Music and Meaning."

- I'm so sorry.

I do nothing but
steal umbrellas.

Do come in and choose one.

It's all right, Annie.

Now let's see, is yours
a hooky or a knobbly?

Mine's a knobbly.

At least, I think it is.

No, that's Tibby's.

How about this one?

I suppose you really oughtn't
open these things indoors.

Oh well, never mind.

No, it's all gone
along the seams.

It's an appalling umbrella.

It must be mine.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

- Has my sister
stolen your umbrella?

Oh, not again, Helen.

She is an incorrigible thief.

I am so sorry.

- I say, do stay
for tea, Mister...

- Bast.

- Mr. Bast, won't
you stay for tea?

- Oh yes, do stay
for tea, Mr. Bast.

It's the least we can do,
having made you all wet.

Our brother's upstairs,
so you'll have a chaperon.

- Look, he's soaked,
Meg, please come up.

- Helen, bring him upstairs.

- What did you think
of the lecture?

I don't agree about
the goblins, do you?

But I do about the
heroes and shipwreck.

You see, I'd always
imagined a trio

of elephants dancing
at that point.

Well, he obviously didn't.

"Music and Meaning," Margaret.

- Oh, "Music and Meaning."

Does music have meaning, of
the literary kind, I mean?

- That's pure slush.

- A guest.

Mr. Bast, won't you
take off your coat?

- And trust us
with your umbrella?

And sit down.

- Have some tea, won't you?

- How boring it would be
if it were only the score.

- China tea?

- Do you take sugar?

- Only the score, what
an insidious only.

- Now, we do have the other
kind of tea, if you prefer.

- Well, thank you, but—

- Here are some scones that
Tibby hasn't yet consumed.

- We are so very sorry to have

put you to this inconvenience.

I hope you will
come another day.

Would you?

We should be so glad.

Do take our card.

- Thank you, if you'll excuse
me, I really must be going.

- I'll see you out.

Are you sure you don't want
a scone for the journey?

- No, no, thank you,
I must be going, goodbye.

- Why didn't you make that
young man welcome, Tibby, hmm?

You must do the host
a little, you know.

You could've coaxed
him into stopping,

instead of letting him be
swamped by screaming women.

- Get your hot soup here.

Hot soup, lovely and warm.

- That you, Len?

Where have you been?

I'm off my head with worrying.

- About what?

- About you.

- Let go, Jacky.

Every time I'm
five minutes late,

you see me lying
dead in the road,

crushed and killed in
a gruesome accident.

- Well, people do get killed in

accidents and don't
come home no more.

- Anymore, Jacky.

I told you I was going to a
lecture on "Music and Meaning."

I lost my umbrella.

It's all right.

I got it back.

- Have you had your tea?

I've kept you a bit
of tongue in jelly.

- No.

- Sure?

I'll have it then.

Funny, isn't it?

Every time I worry, I
get starving hungry.

The thoughts that go through
my head, you'd laugh.

You listening, Len?

Not only accidents.

That you'll get wet in the rain.

- Did you?

- No.

- You said you
lost your umbrella.

I'll think, "Lord,
he'll catch cold.

"It'll go to his chest.

"And where's the money to
come from for the doctor?

"And what if he
is in an accident,

"and they take him to the
hospital in the ambulance?

"And him with holes
in his socks."

- Hey, Jacky.

- I want to see.

- What?

- If there's holes
in your socks.

- Oh, stop it, Jacky.

- Len.

Come to bed.

- I'll just finish this chapter.

- Len.

You love your
Jacky, do you, Len?

- Let me read.

- Len.

Are you gonna make it all right?

- You're not starting
on that again.

I've told you a hundred
times if I've told you once,

we'll get married
the day I'm 21.

I'd do it before if it
weren't for my brother

would come and put a stop to it.

What's it to him?

What's he ever done for me?

- That's right.

What's anyone ever done?

It's just you and me.

And if you was to go and leave
me, I don't know what I'd do.

I truly don't.

- Now, go to bed.

- You come too, come on!

- Book marker.

- "Margaret Schlegel," and
who is Margaret Schlegel?

- Just a lady I met.

- Oh, a lady, la-di-da.

- Come off it, Jacky.

She's a hundred years old.

- Says you.

So that's where
you had your tea.

Nice cucumber sandwiches
cut ever so thin.

- "Ankle-deep, he waded
through the bluebells.

"His spirit rose and exulted as

"he breathed in the
sun-drenched air.

"The glorious day was
in its last decline.

"Long shadows lay on the sward,

"and from above,
the leaves dripped

"their shimmering drops
of gold-green light.

"Moths and butterflies
swarmed in merry hosts,

"flittering here,
glimmering there.

"But hush, could
that be a deer?"

- Oh, please show her in.

- Hello, I'm so sorry.

- Why, Ms. Schlegel,

how kind of you to call.

- I've wanted to
for ever so long.

- But we haven't been
here for ever so long.

- Mrs. Wilcox, may I?

You see, all that business
last summer at Howards End,

oh no, it goes
further than that.

Since we met at Speyer,
do you remember?

That restored cathedral
that we all hated so.

- What I remember
principally about Speyer

was the great pleasure of
meeting you, Ms. Schlegel.

- Helen's gone to Germany.

- And Paul's gone to Nigeria.

- So, you see, now we can
meet because they can't.

It's no use beating
about the bush.

What happened in the
summer was unfortunate

for both of them,
don't you feel?

Because I'm sure you
think the same way.

Because they should not meet.

- Yes, I feel that.

- They belong to
types that can fall

in love but can't live together.

I'm afraid that in
nine cases out of 10,

nature pulls one way and
human nature the other.

I do rattle on.

I'm afraid I shall tire
you out in no time.

- It is true I am not
particularly well just today.

But I'm so grateful
for your visit.

Ms. Schlegel, you
see, I'm quite alone.

My husband and
daughter have gone off

on a motoring tour in Yorkshire,

and the young couple
are on their honeymoon.

- Charles and Dolly.

- Oh, may I see?

How lovely.

- They've gone to Naples.

I can hardly imagine
my Charles in Naples.

- Doesn't he like traveling?

- Oh yes, he likes travel,

but he does see
through foreigners so.

What he would enjoy most is
a motor tour through England.

Charles takes after
me, Ms. Schlegel.

He truly loves England.

Not, of course, London.

None of us love London.

It's so...

It makes one feel so
unstable, impermanent,

with houses being torn
down on all sides.

- Including, in the
foreseeable future, ours.

- Are you having to
leave Wickham Place?

- Yes, in 18 months or so
when the lease expires.

- Have you been there long?

- All our lives,
we were born there.

- Oh,

that is monstrous.

Oh, I do pity you, from
the bottom of my heart.

I had no idea this thing
was hanging over you.

- How dreadful.

- Oh.

- Oh, you poor, poor girls.

- Well, of course, we
are fond of the house,

but it is an ordinary
London house.

We shall easily find another.

- No.

Not in this world.

Not the house that
you were born in.

You'll never find that
again, poor, poor girls.

Howards End was almost
pulled down once.

It would have killed me.

It's my house, you know.

It was left to me by my
brother who died out in India.

I love it so.

I even resisted when
Henry, my husband,

wanted to make changes
to improve the property.

He knew best, of course.

We even have a garage.

To the west of the house,

just beyond the chestnut tree,

in the paddock where
the pony used to be.

- Where's the pony gone?

- The pony, oh, dead,
ever so long ago.

- The vice of the
pan-German mind

is that it only cares
for what it can use.

- No, that is the vice
of the imperial mind.

- No, that is the vice
of the vulgar mind.

- But, and this is
the tremendous part,

they take poetry seriously.

They do take poetry seriously.

- Yes, but is anything
gained by that?

- Yes, the Germans are
always striving for beauty.

- Oh, but Mrs. Wilcox, my father

was a German of the old
school, a philosopher,

an idealist, the countryman
of Hegel and Kant.

- But isn't that
your father's sword

you have upstairs
in the drawing room?

- Oh yes, he was a soldier
too when he had to be,

but he was so uncomfortable
about being on the winning side

that he just hung up his
sword and never used it again.

- My idea has always been that

if we could bring the mothers

of the various nations together,

then there would be no more war.

- Well, indeed, yes.

- Absolutely, I mean, if
the mothers went to war,

there'd be no one
left to defend.

- Mrs. Wilcox, will
you have another jelly?

- Thank you.

You are fortunate in your cook.

We have found it
difficult to get

reliable servants in London.

- It is difficult.

- Your servants have become
as unreliable as we are,

and we can hardly
expect them to listen

to radical discussions
at the luncheon table.

- Annie does very
well, don't you, Annie?

You're very patient with us.

- We never discuss
at Howards End,

except perhaps sport.

- Oh, but you should.

Discussion keeps a house alive.

- You will laugh at my
old-fashioned ideas.

- I will not.

- I sometimes think...

it would be wiser to leave
action and discussion to men.

- But then where would
we be with the suffrage?

- I am only too thankful
not to have the vote myself.

- Shall we go up for coffee?

Duncan, will you lead the way?

- What interesting
lives you all lead.

- No, we don't.

It's no use pretending
you enjoyed lunch,

for you loathed it, but I
hope you will forgive me

by coming again, alone,
or by asking me to you.

- I enjoyed my lunch very much.

Ms. Schlegel, truly I did.

I only wish I could've
joined in more.

You're so clever,
and yet, so good.

- No, that's very kind of you,
but I am neither, I'm afraid.

- You've been very good to me.

You've kept me from brooding.

I'm too apt to brood.

- About what?

- Well, I don't know.

I really don't know.

I think about my
house a great deal.

You've never seen Howards End.

I want to show it to you.

- Now, this is the
scientific approach

to Christmas shopping, a list.

- A list, what a good idea.

Why don't you put your own
name at the top of the list?

- Oh hooray, how very kind
of you to start with me.

"Schlegel," now, next,
shall I put Mr. Wilcox?

Now, what do you think of that?

And a pretty box.

- Oh, yes.

Oh, thank you very much.

- Good, I'm glad.

- Oh, you are
wonderfully efficient.

- Thank you, could we wrap
that with a nice bow, please?

- Certainly, Madam.

- But your name still remains
at the top of the list.

- Yes, so, Dolly,
there she goes.

- I would like to give you
something worth your friendship.

Couldn't you get it renewed?

- I beg your pardon?

- The lease of your house?

- Oh, have you been
thinking of that?

How very kind of you.

- Why, surely something
could be done.

- No, values have
risen too enormously.

They mean to pull
down Wickham Place

and build flats like yours.

- But how horrible.

- Landlords are horrible.

- And so are the
flats they build.

I fail to understand how people

can actually choose
to live in them.

- There we are.

Oh dear, there, there
we are, thank you.

Thank you.

- Thank you, Madam.

- Thank you.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

We shouldn't have
done this today.

- No, no, we had
to do it before.

- Before?

- Before my operation.

I still haven't told my
family yet, Ms. Schlegel.

Everyone hates illnesses.

Ah, it's as it should be.

There's a chestnut
tree at Howards End

that has pigs' teeth
stuck into the trunk

about four feet from the ground.

Yes, the teeth of a pig.

The country people put
them there long ago,

and they think that if they
chew a piece of the bark,

it will cure the toothache.

- I love folklore and
the old superstitions.

Isn't it is curious
though, that unlike Greece,

England has no true mythology.

All we have are witches
and fairies.

- Will you come with
me to Howards End?

- Oh, I would so much like to.

- Come with me now,
now, come with me now.

- Now, but it is too late.

- There is a train
from St. Pancras

at 5 o'clock if we hurry.

I want you to see it.

- And I want to see it.

It sounds such a glorious
place, so redolent and—

I was born there.

- Well, might I
come some other day?

- Yes.

Some other day.

Well, a thousands thanks,
Ms. Schlegel, for your help.

It is a comfort to have
the presents off my mind,

the Christmas cards especially.

I do admire your choice.

- Whoa!

- Mrs. Wilcox.

- Ms. Schlegel.

- I will come if I still may.

- Return to Hilton, please.

We'll stop the night, my dear.

- Yes.

- It's in the morning my
house looks most beautiful.

Two returns, please.

- Thank you.

This is yours?

- I can't show you my meadow
properly except in the sunrise.

- It was so romantic.

It was in Italy.

- In Italy?

- Yes, and the two trains
stopped on either side,

you see, and I
opened the window,

and this man just
handed a rose across.

I don't know where he got it.

- Was he Italian?

- Yes, I think so, Italian.

- Ah, he'd have to be
Italian, wouldn't he?

- Mother!

- Evie, my dearest girl.

- The motor's smashed.

- Ruth, what on earth
are you doing here?

- Why aren't you in Yorkshire?

- We crashed the car.

Are you going to
Howards End, why?

How are you?

- It's all such a
lovely surprise.

I'm fit as a fiddle.

You remember Ms. Schlegel?

- Ms. Schlegel, oh yes,
Helen's sister, hello.

Evie crashed the
car in Yorkshire.

- How do you do?

- We must go home.

We can't go to Howards End.

It's 10 to five.

- Oh, Ms. Schlegel, I'm
afraid our little outing

is going to have
to be another day.

- Oh, before I forget—

for that I believe, Ms. Schlegel

Yes, not canceled,
but postponed.

- Postponed.

- Come home with us.

- No, no.

- You sure?

- Please, goodbye.

- Goodbye.

- Till later.

- How lovely to see you.

- I've been thinking of you.

And of our meadow.

- Here.

The day you are strong enough,

I shall hold you
to your promise.

- Oh, Ms. Schlegel.

So, to repeat, we have
here, forwarded by

the matron of that nursing home,
sealed and addressed to me,

a note purporting to be in
your mother's handwriting.

And it says, "I would
like Ms. Schlegel,

"Margaret, to have Howards End."

- Mother never wrote that.

- No date.

No signature.

- Of course, it's a forgery.

- Not now, please,
later, thank you.

The house was, of course, your

mother's to leave
to whom she wished.

- Let me see it.

Why, it's only in pencil.

Pencil never counts.

- Yes, we know that it is
not legally binding, Dolly.

We are aware of that.

Of course, my dear, we consider
you as one of the family,

but it will be better
if you don't interfere

with what you don't understand.

Thank you.

- The question is
whether, during the time

that this Ms. Schlegel managed
to befriend my mother—

As to my mind, the question is

the invalid's condition
when the note was written.

- My dear father, consult
an expert if you wish,

but I don't admit that it
is my mother's handwriting.

- You just said it was.

- Never mind if I did.

- So we are all agreed
then that legally,

I would be quite
justified in tearing

this up and throwing
it into the fire.

- All else aside,
how is this gift

to be conveyed to Ms. Schlegel?

Is she to have a
life interest in it,

or is she to own it absolutely?

- She may be on
her way down this

very minute to turn us all out.

- I don't believe Ms.
Schlegel knows anything

about this, this whim
of your mother's.

- Mother believed
so in ancestors.

She would never have left
anything to an outsider.

- If Ms. Schlegel had been poor,

if she had wanted a house...

but she has a house.

Why should she want another?

- She wouldn't have wanted
us to even see this thing.

- No, your poor mother
would not have wanted it.

- Len, you coming in?

- In a minute.

Yeah, all right.

- What are you looking at?

- See that big one up there?

It's Ursa Major, the great bear.

You follow those two
down about four times,

and that one there
is the polestar.

I'm fairly certain
that's it, and they all—

- Jacky, stop it.

It's important.

- You'll catch your death.

- Excuse me, sir, Mr.
Purefour's policy.

- Yes, yes, yes, yes,
that's all signed.

It seems fine with
me, thank you.

- So may I expect
to receive that?

- Could you complete that?

- Yes, of course, sir.

"The trees reared
in mighty columns,

"their tops still radiant
in sunlight which,

"spilling downward through
the wealth of leaves,

"dissolved at last in the
darkness of the mossy earth.

"Their color slowly faded
from out of the flowers,

but their scent lingered to
honey the air he breathed."

- There's a woman
to see you, Ma'am.

- A woman and not a lady, Annie?

- She won't give her name.

- Well, ask her to come up.

- She says she won't come up.

- Well, then we shall
have to go down.

Good afternoon.

- I'm looking for my husband.

- Here?

- Thank you, Annie.

- I have my reasons
to believe that he is here.

- Well, you're welcome to
search for him, certainly.

- I'm so sorry,
your husband's name?

- Leonard Bast, as I'm
sure you're aware of.

- Margaret, are we concealing
a Mr. Leonard Bast?

- There appears to have been
some mistake, Mrs. Bast.

I do not think we are
acquainted with your husband.

- Oh no, there's no mistake.

I know for a fact that he
has visited in this house.

He had his tea here.

- That is a grave allegation.

- Yes, to have corrupted a
married man with giving him tea.

- I wish we could
help you. Mrs. Bast.

- It seems you can't, or won't,

except to have a
laugh at my expense.

So I'm very sorry
to have troubled you

and wish you a very
good afternoon.

- You do what you
can for the house.

The drawing room reeks of smoke.

- If you start smoking too, the

house might be even more musty.

- I doubt it.

This is lovely. Annie.

- There's a Mr. Leonard Bast.

- Oh no, I don't believe it.

- The missing husband.

- He must be brought
in immediately, Annie.

- I'll do the host.

- Thank you.

- Mr. Bast, come this way.

- Do come in, Mr. Bast.

Good evening.

- Good evening, do come in

and have some pudding with us.

- Yes, or would you
prefer some dinner?

- I've had my tea, thank you.

- Have a chair, a glass of wine?

- No.

- Port?

- No, thank you.

- Well, do take a seat
in any case, Mr. Bast,

and let us know how
we can help you.

- You wouldn't remember
giving me this?

- Not as such.

- Well, that was how
it happened, you see.

- How what happened?

- Where did we meet, Mr. Bast?

For the moment,
I don't remember.

- It was more than a year
ago at the Ethical Society.

The lecture was on
"Music and Meaning."

- Oh, I see, so the mistake
arose out of my card, did it?

The lady who called
here yesterday

thought you were calling as well

and that she would
find you here.

- In the afternoon,
I said to my wife,

I said to Mrs. Bast, "I have
to pay a call on some friends."

And Mrs. Bast said
to me, "Do go."

But while I was gone, she
wanted me on important business

and thought I had come
here, owing to the card.

And I beg to tender my
apologies, and hers too,

for any inconvenience
we may have caused you.

- None at all, truly.

- I still don't understand.

When did you say you paid this
call, this afternoon call?

- In the afternoon, of course.

- Saturday afternoon or Sunday?

- Saturday.

- Really?

And you were still
calling on Sunday

when your wife came here?

A long visit.

- It was very good of you to
come and explain, Mr. Bast.

The rest is, naturally,
no concern of ours.

We are going to go
upstairs for coffee.

I do hope that you will join us.

Annie, pour the coffee, please.

- It's not what you think.

I was...

I left my office and
walked right out of London.

I was walking all
Saturday night.

- All night, in the dark?

- It got so dark I
couldn't see my own hand.

- Mr. Bast, you must
be a born explorer.

- I tried to steer by the
polestar, but once out of doors,

everything gets so
mixed, and I lost it.

- Don't tell me
about the polestar.

I know its little ways.

It goes round and round,
and you go round with it.

- Yes, but why?

Why did you do it?

I wanted to just walk,

just get out.

I've been reading The
Ordeal of Richard Feverel.

- Yes, I remember.

There's that chapter where
Richard walks all night.

- In a forest by moonlight.

- Yes, and Margaret,
what's that wonderful—

- "The forest drooped

- Wait, I'll get it.

- The chapter's called
"Nature Speaks."

- Where do your
people come from?

- London.

- Yes, I know, but
I mean before that.

They didn't always
live in a town.

- No, they came from
around Shropshire.

They worked on the land.

They were agricultural laborers.

- There, you see?

It was ancestral
voices calling you.

- Yes, here it is.

"Richard was walking hurriedly.

"A pale gray light
on the skirts of

"the flying tempest
displayed the dawn."

Did you see the dawn?

- Yes, suddenly it got light.

- And was it wonderful?

- No.

It was only gray.

And anyway, by that time, I
was so tired and so hungry.

I didn't know when
you're walking

you want a breakfast and lunch

and tea during
the night as well,

and all I had was a
packet of Woodbines.

- No, money,
give Mr. Bast money.

- We really must
go, Meg, come on.

- Your Leonard Bast
wouldn't know

what to do if you
just gave him money.

- Nonsense, money
is very educational,

much more so than
the things it buys.

- Such crass materialism
out of your mouth, Margaret.

- Give them money.

Let us give Mr. Bast money.

- But he won't
gain his soul until

he has enough money
to do it with.

Give Mr. Bast money.

- Good night, yes, well,
you worry about the first.

- Goodbye, goodbye.

- Good night, good night.

- So what do you
think is the most

important thing in
the world, then?

- Well, I suppose it is
whatever matters to you most.

- What, like love, for instance?

- Yes, like love for instance,
or Oxford if you're Tibby.

- Ms. Schlegel?

Henry Wilcox.

- Oh, hello.

- Hello, good evening.

- Good evening, how
nice to see you.

- What a wonderful surprise.

I heard two ladies
talking of love.

- Oh, no.

- No, we were continuing
a serious discussion.

- Yes?

- Yes, we belong to a
sort of club which meets

once a week to discuss
various subjects.

How are you?

I would've thought you would
be down at Howards End.

- Howards End is let.

We've bought a house in Mayfair.

- Yes, Mr. Wilcox, supposing
you were a millionaire.

- Oh, but I expect you are one.

- We have met a young
man who is very poor,

and we think sensitive and
intelligent, and we wondered

if one was a millionaire,
how one could help him.

- What's his profession?

- He's a clerk in,
what was it, Margaret?

- The Porphyrion Fire
Insurance Company.

- Porphyrion?

- Yes.

- Ah, then Ms.
Schlegel, if I were

to help your young clerk, I'd
advise him to clear out of

the Porphyrion with
all possible speed.

- Why?

- Now, this is between
friends, you understand,

but the Porphyrion is
insufficiently reinsured.

It'll be in the receivers'
hands before Christmas.

In other words, it will smash.

- Oh, do you hear?

Helen, the Porphyrion
will smash.

- We'll have to warn Mr. Bast.

He'll have to get another place.

- I hope he'll get
one very quickly.

- But rather than
wait to make sure?

- Yes, decidedly.

You understand, the man who
is already in a situation when

he applies for work stands a
much better chance, naturally.

This is letting you into
state secrets, of course,

but it does affect
an employer greatly.

Human nature, I'm afraid.

- Well, our human nature appears

to be quite the
other way around.

We employ people because
they're unemployed.

The bootman, for instance.

- How does he clean the boots?

- Not well.

- There you are.

- Mr. Wilcox, is it
very difficult nowadays

for a clerk to get a situation?

- Yes, extremely.

- I'm so sorry
about Howards End.

- Hmm?

- I mean that you're
not living there.

I think I have some
idea of how much

her house meant to Mrs. Wilcox.

- Yes, but to us, the family,
it has certain drawbacks.

- Would you be able
to help, our friend,

help him to a new situation?

- Well, unfortunately, we have

very few positions
and vacancies,

and when there is
one, of course,

always hundreds of applicants.

- Of course.

- Well, it has been a pleasure.

- Yes, indeed.

- Ms. Schlegel, Ms. Schlegel.

I hope your young
clerk finds success.

- Thank you, good night.
- Good night.

- Well, he was in a hurry
to get away, wasn't he?

- Mr. Bast, I fear you may have

thought our letter a little odd.

- We're not odd, really.

We're just over-expressive.

That's all.

- The more a lady has
to say, the better.

Ladies brighten
every conversation.

- Yes, I know.

The darlings are
regular sunbeams.

Let me give you a plate.

- Your company is the
Porphyrion, isn't it?

Would you call it
a solid concern?

- Cake?

This big one or one of
these little deadlies?

- It depends what
you mean by solid.

- We were told the
Porphyrion's a no-go.

- A friend of ours
did think that

it's insufficiently reinsured.

- And advised you to clear out.

- You can tell your
friend that he's wrong.

- Oh, good!

- Wrong, so to speak.

- How, so to speak?

- I mean, I wouldn't say
he was right altogether.

- Then he is right partly?

- Tell your friend to
mind his own business.

- Annie.

- Mr. Wilcox, Ms. Wilcox.

- Oh.

- What a surprise!

- Oh, they're beautiful.

- Mr. Wilcox, do come in.

- Ms. Schlegel, pray forgive
us for calling so unexpectedly.

- How nice to see you.

- Mr. Bast, look, come
and play with the puppies.

- Mr. Wilcox, this is Mr. Bast.

- Aren't they beautiful?

- I must be going.

- Oh, must you really?

- Oh, come again.

- No, I shan't.

I shan't come again.

- I call that a
very rude remark.

What do you want to turn
on me like that for?

- I thought you invited me
here as, for a friendly chat.

Instead, it turns
out you want to pick

my brains about my
place of business.

Oh yes, "Send for him.

"Cross-question him.

"Pick his brains."

- No, no!

- Are we intruding,
Ms. Schlegel?

Shall we go?

- No, no, thank you.

Helen, go after him, explain.

- What was all that about?

- I knew I shouldn't have come.

It was all right last time, but

things like that
always get spoiled.

- Things do but people don't.

Don't you understand?

We really did want to warn
you about the Porphyrion.

We were worried about you.

- Why should you
worry about me?

- Because we like you.

That's why, you noodle.

- There's no cause to
call a person names.

- Oh yes, there is when a person

is being tremendously stupid.

Oh, listen, this is serious.

Our friend said you
should be looking around

for another post now
before anything happens.

Will you?

- I'll think about it.

- No, you must do
more than think.

You must search for another
place while you still have one.

Now, promise you will do
that at least, please.

- All right, thank you,
Ms. Schlegel.

- Come and tell us when you've

found another place,
or just come anyway.

And don't say no,
don't dare to say no.

And don't forget your umbrella
or you'll say we pinched it.

- You ought to be more
careful, Ms. Schlegel.

Your servants ought
to have orders

not to let such people in.

- Oh, but we invited him in.

Yes, we wanted to see
him again and talk to him

and maybe help him, not
only in a practical way.

- You're too kind.

You behave too well to people,
and then they impose on you.

I know the world and
that type of man.

- Oh, but he is not
a type, Mr. Wilcox.

No, I think he is a
quite unusual young man,

and he has something in him.

I don't know what
it is except that

he wants something
better than he's got.

- Oh.

- Yes, he has a sort
of romantic ambition.

- It is your view of him that
is romantic, Ms. Schlegel.


We wish you to have something
to remember Mrs. Wilcox by

in return for your kindness
to her in those days.

- Oh, thank you so much.

What a lovely
thought, thank you.

- She would want you to have it.

She spoke very fondly of you.

- It's beautiful.

Are you sure?

Is it 18th century?

It must be crystal.

Thank you, thank you, Evie.

- So what does she look like?

- Sort of an old-maid type.

Goodness knows why Father
wanted me to ask her.

She talks and talks.

Here she is.

Ms. Schlegel.

- Hello. Ms. Wilcox.

- How do you do?

This is my fiance, Percy Cahill.

- How do you do?

- Ah, good afternoon.

- Hello, I didn't
expect to see you.

- Well, Evie told me
of her little plot,

so I just slipped in
and secured a table.

Always secure a table first.

Evie, sit there.

Ms. Schlegel, if
you please, here.

- Thank you very much.

- Mr. Cahill, there.

Well, are you still worrying
around after your young clerks?

I hope you're hungry.

- Famished, I want to eat heaps.

- Good, what will you have?

- Fish pie.

- Ah, fish pie.

Fancy coming for fish
pie to Simpson's.

It's not a good
thing to go for here.

- Go for something for me then.

- Right, umm...

roast beef and
Yorkshire pudding and...

- What will you have?

- Cider to drink.

That's the type of
thing to go for.

- I'll have trout.

- Yes, I like this place
for a joke once in a while.

It's so thoroughly old English.

Don't you agree?

- I began an inventory
of our possessions.

There are over 300 things
in the drawing room alone

Oh, thank you, lovely.

And that's not
counting the books.

Whatever shall I do?

You see, the modern
ownership of moveables—

- Is reducing us again
to a nomadic—

- We are reverting
to a civilization

of luggage, Mr. Wilcox.

- Thank you.

- Thank you, sir.

- Always tip the carver.

Tip everywhere is my motto.

- Perhaps it does
make life more human.

- Yes, then these
fellows remember

one again, especially
in the East.

If you tip, they remember you
from year's end to year's end.

- Have you been in the East?

- Yes, Greece and the Levant.

I used to go for sport
and business to Cyprus.

A few piastres
properly distributed

help to keep one's memory green.

- How shockingly cynical.

- Not a bit, simply realistic.

- Excuse me, sir, how would
you like your beef done?

- Well done.

- Well done.

- You don't like cheese.

You never take cheese.

- Percy, I adore cheese.

- You said you didn't like it.

- That's the most despicable
lie, Percy, and you know it.

You've gone quite pink.

- I haven't gone pink.

- Yes you have.

Your ears have gone slightly
pink about the tips.

- Evie, I have not.

- Evie, I like that.

Ms. Schlegel expects me to
act as house agent for her.

- I want a new home
in September,

and someone must find it.

I can't.

- Do you know of
anything, Percy?

- Can't say I do.

- I wish you would
give us Howards End.

- Howards End, I'm
afraid, is let.

- Can't you turn out your
tenant and let it to us?

- No.

- We're nearly demented.

Mr. Wilcox, I am demented.

- One bit of advice,
fix your district,

then fix your price,
then don't budge.

That's how I got Ducie
Street and Oniton.

Well, I shall, I shall
look around a bit for you.

- Would you?

- Yes.

- Would you really?

- Yes.
- Well, how kind.

But I warn you, the
house has not been built

that would suit the
Schlegel family.

It's no fun trying to help us.

- Fun, no, but it's a
pleasure and a privilege

to do whatever I can for
Ms. Margaret Schlegel.

- Thank you very much.

- Dear Ms. Schlegel,
dare I intrude

on your holiday in Devon
and request you to come up

to London, where, I may
add, you are greatly missed?

Matter is of some urgency.

- But to interrupt your
holiday, dear Margaret,

and before we have undertaken
any of our excursions.

You haven't even been
to Nine Barrows Down.

- I know, Aunt Juley, but I
shall be back before long.

Let me go up to town
today and take the house

if it's the least bit possible.

- I don't understand.

Whose house is this?

- It's Mr. Wilcox's, Tibby.

You are being remarkably obtuse.

Are you doing it on purpose?

Look, "Owing to
changed circumstances,"

he means that Evie's
getting married.

That's his daughter.

"I no longer have need for
a London house of this size

"and am willing to let
it on a yearly tenancy."

Now, it's perfect.

- Out of all our
hotel acquaintances,

Mr. Wilcox is the
only one who's stuck,

and yet, we've met far
more interesting people.

- Interesting people
don't get one houses.

- I shall never forget
that dreadful motor driver,

that perfectly dreadful Charles.

My one consolation
is that for once,

I was able to be
useful to you girls.

- Thank you, Aunt Juley.

And now it is my
turn to be useful.

- This is the ballroom.

- Goodness, oh.

- Like it?

- Rather!

Even I know a good
thing when I see it.

- Yes, but nowadays, with
Evie always out with her fiance,

when I get home in the evenings,

I tell you, I can't
stand the place.

- Yes, it would be
very lonely for you.

- Yes.

Do you ever get
lonely, Ms. Schlegel?

- I soon shall, horribly.

It's heartbreaking to
leave one's old home.

Goodness, how high
this ceiling must be.

- Hmm?

Yes, it must be over 30 feet.

No, maybe 40, I should
think, perhaps even more.

Ms. Schlegel...

I've had you up here
on false pretenses.

I want to speak on a much more

serious matter than the house.

Do you think you could
be induced to share?

I mean, is it at
all probable that—

- Ms. Schlegel.


I don't think you
quite understand.

- Oh, yes, indeed, yes.

- I'm asking you to be my wife.

- Yes, I know, I know.

- Are you offended?

- How could I be?

- Well, perhaps I
should've written first.

- No, no, rather, you will
receive a letter from me.

- Thank you.

- Not at all, and
it's you I thank.

- Should I order
the motor round now?

- That would be most kind.

- I am warning you, Evie.

She will never set
foot in this house!

- It's not my fault!

- Of course it's your fault.

Going around hobnobbing
with those Schlegel girls.

- Girls?

They're hardly girls.

I never dreamt of such a thing.

Dad took me to call
and then made me

ask her to Simpson's,
that's all.

Well, I'm altogether off Dad.

- You've woken Didums.

I knew you would.

- Well, Ms. Schlegel's
fairly got us on toast.

You know, she always meant
to get hold of Howards End.

Now, thanks to
you, she's got it.

- I call that most unfair.

- Oh, Evie, why
don't you pretend

to break off your engagement?

Then, perhaps, your father will

also quarrel with Ms. Schlegel.

- Stop talking nonsense,

- I'm jolly well going to get
married as soon as possible.

And Dad can do what he likes.

- She's taking Mother's place.

The idea!

- I could simply scratch
that woman's eyes out.

Toto, Toto, play.

- Come on, Dolly.

I'll have a try.

Come on.

Well, it's no use talking.

We're in a bad hole and
must make the best of it.

But I'll keep my eye
on those Schlegels.

And if I find them
putting on airs

with their artistic beastliness,

I intend to put my foot down.

Yes, firmly.

- I've had a letter
too, not a nice one.

I want to talk it over with you.

My letter is about Howards End.

The tenants have decamped.

And what is worse, he's trying

to sublet the house, Margaret.

Here, he's trying
to sublet the house.

What are you laughing at?

- Henry, you
haven't had a chance

for a talk with Helen
yet have you, I suppose?

- What do you mean,
a talk with her?

- Well, do before you go.

- Why, what's the matter?

- No, nothing, I'm just anxious
you two should be friends.

- We've always
hit it off together.

- Shh.

- Well, we do.

There's no clause in the
agreement to allow subletting.

There you are, read it yourself.

That's awfully jolly.

- Thank you.

- Yes, especially
that, foxgloves.

- Yes, dear old digitalis.

- Digitalis, sounds
like a sneeze.

- Margaret, such
nice news from Mr. Bast.

- Really?


- Here we all are then.

Mr. Bast is now with
Dempster's Bank.

That's his news.
- Good.

- Thanks to your hint, he
cleared out of the Porphyrion.

- Not a bad business,
the Porphyrion.

Margaret, I shall have to go
to Howards End and take charge,

and I would like
you to come with me.

- Not a bad business?

- Yes, I would like
that very much.

- Good, what about tomorrow?

- Tomorrow?

Oh no, I couldn't well do that.

- Why not?

- You told us the Porphyrion
would smash before Christmas.

- Did I?

Yes, well, it was outside
the tariff ring at the time.

Took some rather bad policies.

But lately, it came
in, safe as houses now.

What's wrong with tomorrow?

- Well, Aunt Juley would be
so disappointed if I left now.

- Didn't Mr. Wilcox clearly

tell us that the
Porphyrion would—

- Henry, Aunt Juley
regards this visit as a—

and Mr. Bast need
never have left

and taken another post at
a greatly reduced salary.

- My dear Helen.

I grieve for your
clerk, I really do.

But it is all part of
the battle of life.

- Battle of life?

- Yes.

- A man who had little
money has less, owing to us.

- Oh, come, come,
you're not to blame.

No one is to blame.

- No one?

Is no one to blame for anything?

- I didn't say that.

You take things
far too seriously.

- Margaret!

- There's your aunt.

I'll go and have
a word with her.

- Margaret!

- Helen.

- Helen, a word of advice—

- Don't take up a sentimental
attitude over the poor.

See that she doesn't, Margaret.

The poor are poor.

One is sorry for
them, but there it is.

I'll talk to Aunt
Juley about tomorrow.

Don't you bother.

- Girls, aren't you cold?

- Helen, I am very
sorry about Mr. Bast,

but you must be civil to Henry.

- You yourself are a witness.

- Yes, I know there may be
another side to this question.

But Henry is my future husband,
and I must be on his side.

Why are you so
bitter, dearie, hmm?

- Because I'm an old maid.

- Oh, Helen.

No, darling.


- Margaret will explain.

- Margaret, Magsy,
if it isn't true,

surely, what Mr.
Wilcox is saying,

that you want to
go away tomorrow?

- Yes, we must
leave tomorrow.

I have business at Howards
End, and my business

is now also, unfortunately,
my Margaret's.

- So we'll go for our walk now.

See you at tea time,
unless it rains.

In which case, we'll see you
a great deal sooner, bye.

- Have a good walk.

- Yes, that's him.

- So this is the
famous office?

- What?

- I'd expected something
more African.

- Oh, heavens, no.

- Spears and animal skins
and that sort of thing,

but I suppose this
is the imperial part

of the Imperial and West
African Rubber Company.

- Yes, we still haven't settled

the question of the
London house, have we?

- Well, that all
depends, doesn't it?

- On what?

- When do you want to marry me?

- How you do fly around.

My head's in a whirl.

Let's dance!

- I hope that my wife,
oh, how do you do,

will give you a
decent lunch after

you've had a good
look at Howards End.

- I can hardly wait to see it,

although I almost feel I have.

- I don't know in what
state you'll find it.

The tenant decamped
without even arranging

for a charwoman to
clear up after him.

- Oh, dear.

- Yes, I've more than a little

bone to pick with that tenant.

Margaret, here's an idea.

- Yes?

- Why don't we use
Howards End to store

your furniture
from Wickham Place

'til you decide
what to do with it?

- Oh, would you,
would you really?

- Good idea?

- Oh, how kind.

Only until Helen and Tibby are
settled of course, Charles.

- I hope you won't
be disappointed.

It's quite a measly
little place.

Never really suited us.

- Heavens, no.

- Oh, it's lovely.

- Margaret.
- Oh, dear.

- What?

- I seem to have
forgotten the keys.

- What?

- I've lost the keys.

- Crane, we'll have to go back.

- Oh, well, won't
you leave me here?

- You sure?

- Yes, yes, I'll wait for you.

Dolly, have a nice glass
of milk at the farm.

Henry, see that she gets
a nice glass of milk.

I'll walk around in the garden.


- Why did you forget the key?

- I'm sorry, I don't know.

- Where did you leave it?

- Well, it could be with Didums.

- Hello?

- I took you for Ruth Wilcox.

- I, like Mrs. Wilcox?

- You have her way of walking...

'round the house.

- Henry, Henry!

Henry, I've found the teeth.

- Yes, what?
- The pigs' teeth.

- Teeth, where?

- The pigs' teeth in the bark.

Yes, look, just here.

You see?

Four feet up.

- How extraordinary.

- Yes, and you chew the
bark to cure the toothache.

- What a rum notion.

- Surely, you knew that.

- Did that silly old Ms. Avery
give you a fright, Margaret?

None of you girls has
any nerve.

- Did you take her for a spook?

She's very odd.

She carries on as if
she owned Howards End.

- Ms. Avery has always
lived on the place?

- Oh yes, she grew up there
on the farm like Mrs. Wilcox.

Weren't she and
Mrs. Wilcox friends

when Howards End,
too, was a farm?

They do say that Mrs. Wilcox had

a brother, or was it an uncle?

Anyhow, he popped the question,
and Ms. Avery, she said no.

Just imagine if she'd said yes.

She'd have been Charles's aunt.

Oh, I say, that's rather
good, Charlie's aunt.

I must chaff him about that.

She's so mad about Howards End.

Goodness knows
what she'll do when

your furniture gets
there, Margaret.

She might fling it
all out, or she might

simply adopt it for Howards End.

- Excuse me, sir, where would I

go to inquire about a position?

- What position
would that be, sir?

- I heard there was one.

- Not at this time.

- I thought it was you.

How do you do?

Why did you never
come to see us again?

You promised.

But this isn't your bank.

You took a situation
with Dempster's.

- I lost it.

- Sorry?

- I lost the situation.

They cut back on their
staff and the last to join,

like me, were the
first to be let go.

I've been inquiring
for another place here.

The way they look at you
when you come to ask.

They're sure you've
stolen something

or why else would any decent
person be out of work?

- It's our fault.

- No.

- No, we made you
leave the Porphyrion,

I and my sister and Mr. Wilcox,

who is at this very
moment, celebrating

his daughter's wedding at
his castle in Shropshire,

with the maximum expense
and ostentation, of course.

I could murder him!

- "Murder will out,
it is most foul."

How have you been, Ms. Schlegel?

Any interesting lectures?

- You know, he jolly well
owes you a situation.

- What nice houses you have

all over the place,
I like this one too.

- Oniton Grange, waiting
to get it off my hands.

- Why?

- Well, what is one to do?

The shooting is bad and
the fishing is even worse.

Anyway, it's in the
wrong part of Shropshire.

- Henry, are these all Wilcoxes?

- Heavens, no.

I bought the place
lock, stock and barrel.

The fellow just took the money

and cleared off
to Italy, I think.

I'm told some of
these are rather good.

What do you think?

- I think they're lovely.

- Rather good, isn't it?

- Which one?

- Top one.

- Yes, very grand,
it's rather like you.

- So, I'll show you
the cellar.

It's very damp, isn't it?

Do you have enough ice now?

- Yes, sir.

- Second orders?
- Yes, sir.

- Good, all right.

- Good afternoon.

- It's this way.
- Right.

Thank you.

- It is difficult to decide
what to do about the children.

Yes, here we are.

Now, Charles, as the eldest,
will someday have Howards End.

And I'm just anxious not
to be unjust to the others.

- Of course not, you mean money?

- Yes, money, since
you put it so frankly.

- Goodness, we'll never
get through all this wine.

Well, how much have you got?

- What?

- How much have you got a year?

I have 600.

- My income?

- Don't you know your income?

- Of course I do.

- Well, don't you
want to tell it me?

Do it this way.

If you were to divide
your income into 10 parts,

how many parts would
you give to Charles,

how many to Evie and
how many to Paul?

Go ahead.

Give away all you can.

Be generous.

- You don't beat about
the bush, do you?


- I suppose she'll
get her hands

on this place as
well as Howards End.

- It's only her furniture
that's gone there.

- No, that's the thin
edge of the wedge.

I don't know what's
to happen to us, Dolly

Two children to bring up.

- Charles, you are pleased
about the baby, aren't you?

- What?

Oh, pleased as punch.

Pleased as punch.

Though it's not
going to be easy.

The pater wants to be fair,
but money isn't elastic.

What if Evie has a family?

Or the pater himself?


- Shh.

- Who's there?

Saxon or Celt?

It went like clockwork.

"Quite like a Durbar,"
Lady Edser said.

- Ah, you did awfully well.

I'm very proud of you.

Thank you.

It was very successful.

Who are those people?

- Well, perhaps
they're townspeople,

come to see the
wedding presents.

If you'll gracefully
vanish, I'll deal with them.

What is it?

What's wrong?

Is Tibby ill?

They're starving!

I found them starving!

- Who is starving?

- The Basts.
- Oh, Helen.

- He's lost his
place because he's

been turned out of
Dempster's bank.

They reduced their staff,
and he was the first to go.

Yes, thanks to
us, he's done for.

We've ruined him.

- Are you mad?

- If you like, I'm mad, but
I'll stand for this no longer!

Two people starving, and
meanwhile, all this vulgar show!

- Helen, have you
actually brought

two starving people from
London to Shropshire?

- There was a restaurant
car on the train.

Don't be absurd.

I won't have such
theatrical nonsense.

How dare you?

Yes, how dare you!

Bursting into Evie's
wedding in this way.

My goodness,

but you've a perverted
notion of philanthropy.

Look at them.

They think it's some vulgar
scandal, and I must explain,

"Oh no, it's only
my sister screaming,

"and only two hangers-on
of ours whom she has

"brought here for no
conceivable reason."

- We want to see Mr. Wilcox.

- Mr. Bast, this
is an odd business.

What view do you take of it?

- There is Mrs. Bast too.

- Yes, how do you do?

- How do you do?

- She's not well.

She fainted on the train.

- Oh, I'm so sorry.

Won't you sit down for a minute?

- I'm sure we don't
wish to intrude,

but you have been so kind in
the past, you and your sister.

- Look, my sister has put you in

a false position, I'm afraid.

- Jacky, let's go.

- Please, Helen,
offer them something.

Mrs. Bast, please, won't you
have something to eat, please?

Now, Helen. I would like
to do something for them,

because I agree, we are
in some way responsible.

- Via Mr. Wilcox.

- Let me tell you,
once and for all, that

if you take up that attitude,
I'll do nothing, so choose.

If you promise to
take them to the hotel

quietly as my guests,
then I will speak to Henry

about finding work for Mr.
Bast, in my own way, mind.

There is to be no more
of this absurd screaming.


- All right. I promise.

- Very well, take them off to
the George then, and I'll try.

But Helen...

you have been most

You have less restraint, rather
than more, as you get older.

Think it over, Helen,
and alter yourself,

or we shan't have happy lives.

- Let's eat some cake, shall we?

- Sorry, excuse me.

- Now, I must see to
getting some rooms.

- No, we don't want
to be any trouble.

We should come with you.

- Len.

- Perhaps you'd like to stay.

- Look, there's
all this pudding.

- Mrs. Bast is extremely tired.

- I'm hungry.

- Perhaps you should
come back for her.

- Will you be all right?

- I'll be all right.

- Ah.

- Charles, Charles, look!

Whoever's that?

- Where?

- Pink scarf.

- Charles Wilcox, how do you do?

Bride or groom?

I'm very pleased to have
made your acquaintance.

- Champagne, madam?

- Helen?

What, here?

But, she refused the invitation.

I thought she despised weddings.

Where is she now?

- She's gone now.

I've bundled her
off to the George.

- George Hotel?

Well, you shouldn't
have done that.

- Well, she has two of
her proteges with her.

- Ah, yes, her proteges.

Well, let them all come.

- No, but later on,

I would like to talk
to you about them.

- Well, why not now?

No time like the present.

- Shall I?

- Mmm, yes, if it
isn't too long a story.

- It's not five minutes.

- Yes.

- But there's a sting
at the end of it.

- Hmm?

- For I want you to find the
man some work in your office.

- Well, what are
his qualifications?

- He's a clerk, I think.

- Yes, where was he before?

- Dempster's Bank.

- Dempster's,
why did he leave?

- They reduced their staff.

- Oh.

Yes, all right.

I'll see what I can do.

- Thank you.

- Margaret, this cannot be
taken as a precedent, you know.

I can't fit in your proteges
or Helen's proteges every day.

You do understand?

- Of course, of course not.

But he's, he's rather
a special case.

- Yes, well, proteges
always are, aren't they?

Well, goodbye.

Thank you so much.

- Goodbye.

- Why, if it isn't Henry.

Hello. Henry, fancy
seeing you here.

- This is Mrs. Bast.

Sorry, she's a little overtired.

- She's drunk.

- Don't you remember Jacky?

Henry, aren't you
gonna say hello?

- Do you know Mrs. Bast?

- No, I don't!

- Know Henry?

Who doesn't know Henry?
- Henry?

- We've had some gay
old times, haven't we, Hen?

- You're drunk!

- Henry?

Henry, Henry.

- Are you satisfied
now, Margaret?

I can now understand your
keen interest in the Basts.

I must say I congratulate you

on your little plan to trap me.

- Trap you?

- I release you from
your engagement.

- Henry, Henry, Henry!

Here we are.

- Oh, please don't
bother, my dear.

I'm sure I can manage.

- That's all right,
I'll do that, I'll do it.

- So that's it.

- Oh, that is what?

Thank you, dear chap.

You were saying?

- No, Henry and I were just
having the fiercest argument,

but I think he has forgiven me.

- Oh, I don't expect
there's much to forgive.

- No.

- Well, I really must be
going, or we shall be late.

Thank you so much
for a lovely time.

And hasn't the weather
been kind to us?

- Glorious.

- A lovely day.

Thank you, my dear,
very much, thank you.

- Have a safe journey.

- Thank you, bye-bye,
Dolly, bless you.

- Bye-bye, Albert.

- You take care of yourself.

- I shall.

- Bye-bye, Mrs.—

- No, it's all right,
it's here, Father.

- Oh, ah, thank you, Albert.

- Safe journey.

- Ah, are the womenfolk
all alright then?

- Yes.

- I'll shut the doors,
then we're all ready.

Well, thank you.

Oh, oh, drive on then.

- What's the matter, Jacky?

- It was a shock, seeing him.

- Him?

Seeing who?

- I really don't want
to talk about it.

- Too much champagne?

- What do you think
you're looking at?

- Len.

- Henry.

Henry, look at me.

So you were that woman's lover.

- Since you put it with

your usual delicacy, yes, I was.

- When?

When, please?

- 10 years ago!

I'm sorry, 10 years ago.

- Henry, dear, it's not
going to trouble us.

- Ah yes, we fellows all fall
from grace once in our time.

Do you believe that, Margaret?

- Yes, I do believe it.

- You with your refined
pursuits and your books.

What can you guess
of any man's life?

The temptations, temptations.

Well, that's enough.

I've spoken too much already.

- Yes, that's enough, dear.

- It was in Cyprus.

It was very lonely.

You can never
forgive me, can you?

- I have forgiven you. Henry.

- Well, I...

I could find an
excuse, but I won't.

- Let us speak no
more about it, dear.

It is all behind us.

- Really?

You can really bring
yourself to forgive me?

You've learned that
I'm far from a saint.

In fact, the reverse.

No, no, no, no, no.
- Shh.

- The reverse.

Where are those people now?

- Helen has taken
them to the George.

- Oh, then let them leave
first thing in the morning

because there must be
no gossip at the George.

And anyway, Helen
should be here with us,

not stopping at a hotel
with some ragtags.

Tell you what, Margaret.

Why don't you kindly write
a note to that effect,

and I'll have Burton send it
out to Helen straight away.



- Yes, sir.

- I want you to
take a note over

to the George Hotel
straight away.

- Yes, sir.

- There's far too
much noise out there.

- I'm sorry to tell you

that Henry can do
nothing for Mr. Bast.

He feels the Basts
are not at all

the type we should
trouble about.

We found the woman
drunk on the lawn.

Please see that they
leave first thing

in the morning and
come here yourself.

- He made her write it.

This isn't Margaret.

Would you put it in the fire?

- You better let us
be, Ms. Schlegel.

You don't want to
get mixed up in this.

- Mixed up in what?

What is it?

You must trust me
that far, at least.

- Mr. Wilcox met Jacky before,

out in Cyprus, when she was 16.

I told you you didn't
want to hear about it.

- Go on.

Why was she in Cyprus?

- Her father was a clerk
in an export business.

So after her mother died,
she'd gone out to be with him.

Then he died.

Accidentally drowned
because he couldn't swim.

Jacky was left having
to fend for herself

'til she managed
to get back home.

I didn't have to
marry her, but I did.

My family wouldn't have
anything to do with us.

They tried to stop me, but
I married her all the same.

Because I promised.

Listen, if I hadn't,
where would she be today,

after the Mr. Wilcoxes of this
world had finished with her?

- It would never, never,
not in a thousand years,

enter that man's mind that
he'd done anything wrong

because there's nothing
here and nothing here.

And you're the opposite.

You believe in
personal responsibility

and personal everything.

- Very nice.

What good am I to
myself or to Jacky,

marrying her only
to pull her down

with me so we can
starve together?

- You'll find another position
somewhere, surely you will.

- You don't know what
you're talking about.

If rich people fail at one
profession, they can try another.

But with us, once a man over 20

loses his own particular
job, he's done for.

- I'd do anything in
the world to help you.

- Well, help me row then.

I'm tired.

You're the one person
who ever has helped me.

- You mean by passing on false

information to make
you give up your job?

- I mean by being the
sort of person you are.

I didn't think people
like you existed

except in books, and
books aren't real.

- Oh, no, they're more
real than anything.

When people fail you, there's
still "Music and Meaning."

- That's for rich
people, to make

them feel good
after their dinner.

- Everything's got spoiled
for you, hasn't it?

Don't know what's to be done,
Tibby, or what to say to Meg.

Don't want to face her or even
to go back to Wickham Place.

- You mean because of Mr. Wilcox

and the woman you say he seduced

in between growing
currants in Cyprus?

- I want you to give Meg
my love and tell her,

tell her I'm going away to
Germany, to Munich or else Bonn.

- Such a message
is easily given.

God, I wish I could escape
from Meg's wedding too.

- Is she really going
through with it?

How is it possible for
our Meg to be a Wilcox?

And now, after all this?

- You'd much better
go away to Germany.

There's Martlett with
the Apple Charlotte.

Do you mind if I
take it from him?

It spoils with waiting.

Ah, Martlett.

- Shall I clear now, sir?

- Not now, later.

- Thank you very much.

- I feel, no, I know we owe
the Basts some compensation.

- Oh, those people again?

- Yes, those people again.

Don't see who is
to pay if I don't.

I'm placing what I consider
is a minimum amount

to your account, and
when I'm in Germany,

you'll pay it over
to the Basts for me.

I shall never forget
your kindness,

Tibbikins, if you do this.

- What's the sum?

- 5,000.

- Good God!

- It's useless just
giving out driblets

of charity, just
shillings and blankets.

No doubt people
will think me mad.

- I don't give a damn
what people think,

but I do mind if
you ruin yourself

for some quixotic
reason of your own.

- I didn't expect
you to understand me.

- I understand nobody.

- But you'll do it?

- Apparently.

- Are you writing
to your brother?

He could send us another 10.

- Yes, and a long
lecture to go with it.

- Your sister could
afford a fiver.

- Oh, leave me alone!

- Why are you
taking it out on me?

- You can see I'm
busy, can't you?

Dear Mr. Schlegel, I acknowledge
receipt of your letter

dated 2nd of October, enclosing
a check for 5,000 pounds.

I am very grateful
for your concern,

but having no
immediate necessity,

I have the honor to return
your check herewith.

Yours sincerely, Leonard Bast.

Excuse me, sir,
sorry to bother you.

I worked in this
office for four years.

I was wondering if there were
any vacancies at the moment?

- No, no, I'm sorry.

I've nothing.

- Nothing at all?

- Nothing at this
time, thank you.

- All right, the servants
will have the benefit

of the central
heating if we keep

them here instead of at
the back of the house.

That's what the
architect prefers.

- Oh, if only it would hurry
up and get itself built.

- All in good time.

- I'm getting tired
of living in London.

- Are you?

- Yes, I can't be
as young as I was.

- Yeah?

- So I'm perfectly
happy to do without all

the new plays and
discussion societies and—

- Yes, what I miss are trees
and mountains and meadows.

- Yes.

- I also miss my own things.

- They're safe enough
at Howards End.

- And, of course, I'm very
grateful to have them there,

but I would so like
to see everything

in our own home,
my share at least.

Goodness only knows what
Tibby intends to do with his.

Or Helen.

There's been another
postcard from her.

Still the same poste
restante address in Bavaria,

but now she speaks
of going to Italy.

- Is she never coming
back to England?

She's been away now the,
how long has it been?

- It will be four months
and three weeks on Tuesday.

- Yes.

Your sister is odd.

She always has been.

There's no getting away from it.

What is this?

How, what's been reading now?


- Oh, yes.

Madame Blavatsky, now, what
a clever little woman it is.

You see, that's what
I mean about Helen.

She reads these things,
and her mind gets addled.

My Margaret, she keeps
her facts straight.

- What facts are those, dear?

- Hmm, about men and women
and all that sort of thing,

who is who and what is what.

Yes, now, what is that?

- Mr. Schlegel, sir,
you've forgotten these.

- Ah, thank you, Martlett.

- Thank you, sir.

- Ah, oh dear, Annie.

Look, it's another one.

And no letter.

See, I just can't feel
that Helen's really alive.

These postcards and telegrams

don't seem to have
come from her.

That's not her.

- I know what you mean.

You'll break that if you
keep fiddling with it.

- Well, then put it on.

- Oh!

- Give me my card.

- M.J. Schlegel, The Rise,
Straight Fleming, Devon.

Dearest Meg, arriving
London Thursday.

Please telegraph, care my bank,

whether Aunt Juley is better
or likely to become worse.

Give my love to the invalid and

keep some for yourselves, Helen.

- If only you had a companion
to take your walks with.

- I have Tibby, dear Aunt Juley.

And it won't be long,
thank you, Maggie,

before you'll be up and about.

- When is Helen coming?

- Well, very soon, dear.

She will already
have reached London.

- She's got
to London all right.

- Yes, but?

- She says to telegraph
if Aunt Juley is better.

Obviously, if you
want to see her,

you must telegraph
she is not better.

- We can't start
lying to each other.

But Helen wouldn't—

- She couldn't stay
away at such a time.

Dearest Helen, Aunt Juley better

and eagerly expecting
you, as am I, your Meg.

- Must return
Germany at once.

Telegraph to bank whereabouts

our books and furniture, Helen.

- But why did she have
to go back to Germany?

- I'll explain it all
to you after your nap.

- You'd think she might have
come to see her old aunt.

I haven't been well, you know.

Is Cook doing the mackerel
the way Tibby likes them?

I know his whole day is spoiled

if his breakfast isn't right.

- The mackerel were perfect.

In fact, Tibby particularly
mentioned them this morning.

Don't tell me, Tibby,
that it is still

that business over Henry
and that woman, Mrs. Bast.

Goodness me, how morbid.

His wife forgives him
and his sister-in-law

cannot bear to
look upon his face.

I don't believe it,
not even of Helen.

- We all know to what
extremes Helen goes.

We've all suffered
under her temperament.

- But this is different.

This is not
temperament, but a kind

of madness, as if she were mad.

- Margaret, you've got black
marks again under your eyes.

Well, you know that's
strictly forbidden, don't you?

I'll not have my girl looking
as old as her husband.

- You haven't quite
seen our point.

- No, I don't
suppose I ever shall.

- Our point is this,
our sister may be mad.

- Oh, Charles, do come in.

We are again in trouble.

Can you help us at all?

- No, I'm afraid I cannot.

What were the facts?

We're all mad, more or
less, you know, these days.

- The facts are that
our sister has been

in England three days
and won't see us.

She's forbidden the bankers
to give us her address.

She refuses to
answer any questions.

All we have are these telegrams.

- And you want to get
hold of her, is that it?

- Well, yes.

- It's perfectly easy, Margaret.

She wants her books, yes?

Send her after them,
to Howards End.

When she's there,
you just stroll in.

If there's nothing wrong
with her, so much the better.

But remember, the motor
will be around the corner.

We quite simply run
her up to London

to a specialist, no time at all.

- That's impossible.

- Why is it impossible?

- Because Helen and I, we...

don't speak that particular
language, if you see my meaning.

- Yes, because
you have scruples,

and it's all very well,
and I understand perfectly.

I'm as scrupulous as
any man alive, I hope.

But when it is a case like this,

when it is a
question of madness—

- You said yourself.

- It's madness when I say
it but not when you say it.

- Pater, you may as well
keep Howards End out of it.

- Why, Charles?

- Well, the whole house
is at sixes and sevens.

We don't want any more mess.

- And who is we?

Pray, Charles, who is we?

- Beg your pardon, I'm sure.

I seem always to be intruding.

- No, Charles, Charles!

- Then let's send a telegram.

Come along, let's do it.

I really can't have this
sort of behavior, Charles.

- What?

- Margaret, she's
far too sweet-natured

to mind, but I mind for her.

- All your books
now at Howards End.

Ms. Avery will let you
in 3pm Monday, Meg.

- Our main object
is not to frighten

Ms. Schlegel, you understand?

Trouble seems to be nervous,
wouldn't you say so, Margaret?

- Would you say she was normal?

- Well, she's always
been highly strung.

Musical, literary,
artistic but quite normal,

quite a charming girl, really.

- Would you say there
was anything congenital?

- No, no.

- Or anything hereditary?

- No.


- Yes, Henry, just wait
here just for a second.

Oh, my darling, quickly, quickly

just get inside
please, just quickly.

- Ms. Schlegel is managing.

You can go back to the motor.


- Henry, Henry I shall surely
need your advice later,

but now I must be
alone with Helen.

- Certainly.

- Yes, please,
my dear, kind Henry.

- Yes.

- Thank you.

- Where are all our furniture?

- Ah, there's been a mistake.

- How well the carpet fits.

I'll be sending
some milk 'round,

and we should be ordering coals.

- There's been a
mistake, Ms. Avery.

You've been very
kind, but we are

not going to live
at Howards End.

This is not our house.

I think she may be
a little touched.

I'm sorry, Helen.

I ought not to have—

- We thought you were ill.

- As you see, I'm not ill, but

I'm expecting a child in June.

Is the coast clear?

I must leave.

I'm going back to
Germany in the morning.

Give my love to Aunt
Juley and to Tibby.

- Let me get that.

- Don't.

It's curious, isn't it,
that our carpet fits?

Yes, the sword looks right too.

- Yes, doesn't it?

Someone's polished it.

- Yes.

I'll carry this.

Even if you didn't
want to tell me

because of Henry,
I understand that.

- I thought I had
to be by myself.

That's why I hid
away in Germany.

- What about Tibby?

- You know, Meg, really, I
alone must be responsible

for myself and this
child, and I want to be.

Of course, Leonard doesn't know.

- Leonard?

Leonard Bast?

- Yes.

Oh, Meg, did you ever
hear from him again?

I have no idea
what he's doing now

or what's happened
to either of them.

- Dolly.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- My dear, I must ask you.

Was your sister
wearing a wedding ring?

- No.

- What?

- No.

Henry, I really came just to
ask a favor about Howards End.

- Yes, one point at a time.

Please, sit down.


I must now ask you for
the name of her seducer.

You may have some inkling, and

the slightest hint
would help us.

- Us, who is "us"?

- Hmm?

Well, I thought it
best to ring Charles.

- That was unnecessary.

- My dear, listen to me.

Charles and I wish to act in
your sister's best interests.

It's still not too
late to clear her name.

- What are we to make
her seducer marry her?

But Henry, suppose he turned
out to be married already?

One has heard of such cases.

- Then he must pay heavily for
his misconduct, mustn't he?

Now, stay calm.

I want to talk to you.

Listen to me, Margaret.

Come here.

Look at me.

What's the matter?


- May I ask you my question now?

- Certainly.

- Tomorrow Helen
goes to Germany.

- Yes.

- I'm fine.

Tonight. With your permission—

- She would like to
sleep at Howards End.

- But why at Howards End?

I don't understand.

- It is an odd request, but you

know what women
in her state are.

- Yes, I could
understand if it were

her own home
associations and so on,

but Helen has no associations
with Howards End.

I don't see why she
wants to stay there.

She'll only catch cold anyway.

- Call it fancy,
but she wants to.

- I don't understand.

If she wants to sleep
there one night,

she'll want to sleep there two.

- No, no, just—

- But that matters so very much?

- But of course
it would—

Howards End for this one night.

I shall stay with her

- No, that's quite impossible
and that's madness.

I want you here to meet Charles.

- What has Charles
to do with this?

- Margaret, as the future
owner of Howards End,

it has everything
to do with Charles.

- In what way?

Please answer me, Henry.

- You're forgetting

There's Dolly and the servants.

- In what way?

Would Helen's condition
depreciate the property?

- Margaret!


I shall do what I
can for your sister,

but I cannot treat it as
if nothing has happened.

I should be forced from my
position in society if I did.

- Tomorrow, she
will go to Germany

and trouble society no longer.

Tonight, she asks to
sleep in your empty house.

May she?

Will you give my sister leave?

Will you forgive her,

as you yourself
have been forgiven?

- As I myself have been—

- Your sister can
sleep at the hotel.

I have my children
and the memory

of my dear wife to consider.

- You have mentioned
Mrs. Wilcox.

In reply, may I
mention Mrs. Bast?

- You have not been
yourself all day—

You have had a mistress.

I forgave you.

My sister has a lover.

You drive her from the house!

Why can you not be honest
for once in your life

and say to yourself, "What
Helen has done, I have done"?

- I repeat what I said before.

I do not give your sister
leave to sleep at Howards End.

Now, do you understand?

- If a man played
about with my sister,

I'd send a bullet through him,

but I suppose you're sunk too
deep in books and rubbish.

Do you mind what
happens to your sister?

- As a matter of
fact, I mind very

much what happens to my sister,

but I have a different way
of expressing it from yours,

not to speak of
different manners.

- By Jove, I'm glad of my way!

I'm glad that my
father never sent me

to the varsity if this is
what they teach you here.

Look, you must know something
of your sister's life.

Do you know of anyone?

- No.

- Whom do you suspect?

Did she mention anyone by name?

Come on, yes or no.

You're hiding something, man.

Speak up.

- She did mention some
friend called Leonard Bast.

- Leonard Bast, eh?

Leonard Bast, do you know him?

Have you had any
dealings with him?

Oh, what a family.

What a family!

God help the poor pater.

- I'd say God help
my poor sisters.

- Admiring isn't
purchasing, you know.

- But they were
ordered on approval.

- Excuse me.

- We do not accept
things on approval.

- Excuse me.

- Wait.
- Ma'am.

- Excuse me, I was
looking for Ms. Schlegel.

- It's...

- Leonard Bast, I used
to call at Wickham Place.

Is Ms. Schlegel in?

Or Mrs. Wilcox?

- They're all down
at Howards End.

- Where would that
be now, Howards End?

- It's at Hilton,
near Hilton Junction.

Are you all right?

Let me get you a drink of water.

- No, thank you.

- Please take them, Ma'am.

This is—

- I don't want you to
conclude that my wife and I

have had anything
like a quarrel.

She is overwrought, as who
would not be, naturally.

- Naturally.

- The question, to
my mind, is connected

to something far greater, the
rights of property itself.

- Absolutely.

- The house is mine and will
one day be yours, Charles.

When I say that I don't want
anyone living at Howards End,

I mean that no one is
to live at Howards End.

- Then I take it
tomorrow morning,

I may go up in the motor?
- Mmm.

Yes, say that you're acting
as my representative,

and that they must
clear out at once.

You must go to bed now.

I've kept you up far too late.

- Can I do anything
for you, sir?

- Hmm?

No, nothing, thank you, my boy.

Good night.

- Night, sir.

- It's only the train.

Len, have you got
that pain again, Len?

You're all dressed!

- I'm just going out for a bit.

- What ho, Len.

- What ho, Jacky.

See you again later.

- Did you see the dawn?

And was it wonderful?

- No.

It was only gray.

Excuse me, could you
direct me to Howards End?

- This is Howards End.

- Yes, thank you
very much, Charles.

There are two boxes
of books in the...

- Ms. Schlegel, Mrs. Wilcox,
you'll have forgotten me.

- No, Mr. Bast, I have
not forgotten you.

- I only want to know where
your sister is, where Helen is.

- Who is it?

- Helen?

- Leonard!

- Oh, so this is Leonard Bast.

This is for insulting
the name of woman.

Get me a stick,
Margaret, a stick.

- Charles, we are perfectly
capable of dealing with this.

- Get back!

Stand up!

- Charles!

- Stand up!

- Stop it, Charles!

- So it is your opinion

that he was in the last
stages of heart disease?

- It would not be professional

to say so before an
autopsy, but in private,

that could well be my diagnosis.

Obviously, he was
in the last stage

because the moment I touched him

with the sword, he
simply crumpled up.

- Excuse me, sir, what
sword would that have been?

- Well, it's inside.

You'd better follow me.

It's their father's
old German sword.

Course, I only touched
him with the flat of it.

- Just once?

- Yes, once, perhaps twice.

- I presume you will be staying
in Hilton, Mr. Wilcox, sir?

- Ah, yes, yes,

I'll be available as long
as is necessary.

- And, Mr. Charles
Wilcox, we shall be

requesting your presence
at the inquest, sir.

- Yes, well, I did expect that.

I shall naturally be the
most important witness.

- Margaret?

- Good, Henry, I
was going to come

up to Hilton to give you these.

- Yes, I have something
to tell you, Margaret.

- Never mind, Henry, I
don't need to hear it.

I'm leaving you.

My life is with Helen now.

- Yes.

I'm extremely tired.

Come and sit down for a moment.

- Yes, for a moment, we'll have

to sit here on the grass then.

- Yes.

- Here are your keys.

We shall be staying
with Ms. Avery

at the farm 'til we can leave.

- Yes, where are you going?

- To Germany.

We'll start as soon as
possible after the inquest.

- After the inquest.

- If Helen is well enough.

- You realize what the
verdict will be, don't you?

- Yes, heart disease.

- No, manslaughter,
if not worse.

Charles may go to prison.

I dare not tell him.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know what to do.

I'm sorry.

Now, is this going
to suit everyone?

Because I don't want you
all coming here later on

and complaining that
I've been unfair, Paul?

- Apparently, it's
got to suit us.

- You've only to speak, my boy,

and I'll leave the
house to you entirely.

- Since I have to be at
the business all week,

I'll find something
that suits me better.

This place is not
really the country,

and, well, it's
certainly not the town.

- Does my arrangement
suit you, Evie?

- Of course, Father.

- Good, you, Dolly?

- I thought Charles
wanted it for the boys,

but last time I saw
him, he said no,

because we can't possibly live

in this part of England again.

Charles even says
we ought to change

our name, but I
can't think what to.

Wilcox just suits
Charles and me,

and I can't think
of any other name.

- Yes.

Then I leave Howards End
to my wife absolutely.

Let everyone understand
that, and after I'm dead,

let there be no jealousy
and no surprise.

In consequence, I
leave my wife no money,

that is her own wish, and all my

other assets are to
be divided among you.

This house, Howards
End, she intends,

at her death, to
leave to her nephew.

- Whoop!

- It does seem curious.

Mrs. Wilcox wanted
Margaret to have Howards—

- And now she gets it after all.

- Dolly.

- Did I put my foot in it?

- Hmm?

Yeah, yeah.

- Come on, let's
get out of the way.

Tom, Tom, take baby's hand.

Oh, look, what's over there?

I wonder what it is.

- Oh, it's a sweet child,

rather like Didums
was at that age.

- Come along, Dolly.

- Safe journey.
- Goodbye.

- Is it trapped?

Come on, it's time away
we came from the jungle.

Look, look who's there, look!

- What did Dolly mean
about Howards End?

- Hmm?

My poor Ruth, during
her last days,

scribbled your name
on a piece of paper.

Knowing her not to be
herself, I set it aside.

Didn't do wrong, did I?

There, they're off.

There they go, bye.