The Duchess of Duke Street (1976–1977): Season 1, Episode 9 - The Duchess of Duke Street - full transcript

With the death of his father, Charlie Tyrell is now Lord Haslemere. He's living at the Bentinck but is feeling quite blue at having accomplished little with life. His first love is painting and he's quite pleased when Louisa introduces him to an art dealer who offers to show his work. Things don't turn out well when Charlie realizes just why his paintings are being exhibited. The Bentinck also receives a guest who is clearly not of the same class as other frequenters of the hotel. The hotel staff look down on him but when Charlie learns just why he's chosen to stay there, he decides to spend some time with him.

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STARR: Fred! Fred, what's
the matter with you?

Hey! Fred,
you get in there.

Now you...
no, no, you stay.

Look, did you
want something?

This is a hotel?

Where's the desk?

Well, if you've got
a package to deliver,

you can give it to me.

I haven't got a pa...



I'll have a room...
..please.

You want a room
here? Heh-heh!

I'm afraid you've come
to the wrong place.

Oh, commercial traveler,
are you?

Ling's Temperance Hotel,
Finsbury Pavement.

You can't do better.

I don't want
to go there.

I'll have
a room here,

please, my good man.

Don't you
"My good man" me.

Go on, out.

No room available.
We're full.

Oh.

I see.



I don't believe you!

Now, look here.

Come on, why don't you
go round to Ling's?

It's a very nice
hotel, that.

It's clean
and a good breakfast.

Or if you want
a decent lodging,

Mrs. Barnett
in Granville Square:

highly recommended,
only £1.06 a night.

Even if we had a room,

you couldn't afford
to stay here.

Oh, couldn't I?

I don't suppose
that's enough

to be going on?

Now, put it away.
We don't want your money.

Oh, my money's
as good as

anybody else's.

I never said
it wasn't.

Now, I want to
see the manager!

Are you the manager?

No, he's not!

That's all right,
Starr.

No, I'm afraid I'm not,
but can I help you?

Well, I just want
a room.

I've told him
we're full, my lord.

Oh, you're...

oh, I beg your pardon.
My name's Haslemere.

Oh. Stanley parker...
Mr. Stanley parker.

How do you do?

Oh, I'm all right,
thank you. Heh-heh.

Well, there doesn't
seem to be a manager

or a receptionist
or anything,

and I keep telling
this...

..man I, just want
to book a room.

Well, if the Bentinck
is full,

I'm sure Starr could suggest
somewhere else.

Oh, I don't want
anywhere else.

I want to stay here.

But why here
particularly?

Well, this is
the best hotel

in London.

I want the best.

Ah, here's Mrs. Trotter.
This is her hotel.

PARKER:
Oh, I see.

Louisa, this gentleman
would like a room.

Oh, yes?

I told him we was
full up, madam.

Well, you took a lot
upon yourself.

Oh, you have
got a room,

have you?

I didn't say that,

but you'd be more comfortable
somewhere else.

Louisa, Mr. Parker
wants to stay

at the best hotel
in London,

so he's naturally
come here.

You can hardly
turn him away, can you?

Unless, of course,
you don't think

this is the best hotel.

Besides,
you must admit,

there are
one or 2 rooms

not occupied.

It ain't exactly

cheap here,
you know.

Oh, I can afford
to pay.

Very well.

Starr, put
the gentleman

in number 11.

Thank you.

If you'll follow me,
sir.

How long was you
thinking of staying?

I'm not sure.

I'll see how
I like it here.

Now, what did you want
to go and do that for?

He'll be uncomfortable
all the time he's here,

and the staff
will despise him.

As long as
they don't show it.

They got their own ways
of showing it.

I know you meant
to be kind,

but it was
the cruelest thing

you could have done.

Oh, my dear Louisa,
what a fuss.

Look, the dear little man
wanted to stay here.

He said he
could afford it,

so why shouldn't he?

He probably thinks
it's 5 bob a night,

hot bath
sixpence extra.

He'll start gabbing
away at the guests

and they'll
snob him,

and then how
will he feel?

I have no idea,
and quite honestly,

I don't much care.

STARR: I'll send someone in
to light the fire, sir.

PARKER: Yes.
It's none too warm.

And people
usually write ahead.

Then we have their rooms
ready for them.

Oh, yes. Well...

Oh, here.

I'd like to be
well-looked-after

while I'm here.

All our guests are
well-looked-after, sir.

Oh, yes?

Thank you
very much, then.

Oh, just a minute.
Where's the key?

Key, sir?

Well, the key
of the room.

We don't have keys, sir...
not as a rule.

You mean you don't
lock the rooms?

It's not considered
necessary at the Bentinck.

LOUISA: There.

What do you think
of that?

Very pretty.

It's for
me mantelpiece.

I told
Arthur Shepherd

I was looking
for something like this.

He told me it was
coming up at Sotheby's.

Told me what to pay
for it and all.

Shepherd? Is that
the fellow who keeps

that artists' material
shop in Bloomsbury?

No. This is his son.

He's going up
in the world.

He's a picture
dealer.

Good God.

He's opening
a new gallery

on Bond Street.

Giving an exhibition
of the paintings

by some chap called
Knife and Forks.

"Knife and Forks"?

Yeah. Well,
something like that.

Arthur says he's
an ugly little devil

with dirty fingernails,
but he likes his work.

Oh, he's a terrible
snob...Arthur.

He knows
a good painting

when he sees one.

He must be clever.

Excuse me,
Mrs. Trotter.

Captain Hayes says
could you spare him

a few moments to discuss
the dinner party.

I'll spare him more
than a few moments.

He had the cheek to
send me down a menu.

Half the things on it
were out of season.

The rest I wouldn't
serve to a dog.

Yeah, all right,
Merriman.

Very good, ma'am.

Here. Chuck this,
here, will you?

When are you
leaving?

Oh, yes, I was
going to tell you:

I'm not going.

You're not?
I've never known you

to miss
the opening meet.

Usually because I have
nothing better to do.

Go on.
You love it.

Do I?

I thought
Mrs. Tremayne

was going to
be there.

Oh, yes,
Cora will be there...

And she'll expect me
to find a horse for her

in spite of the fact
she rides so vilely.

You know,
there's nothing worse

than seeing your horses
badly ridden

by a woman who thinks
that, because

you're in love with her,
you won't mind.

Why do I get myself
involved

in these stupid
intrigues?

I suppose
because you've got

nothing better to do.

Exactly.

What's the matter,
Charlie?

Oh, I don't know,
Louisa.

I've got the hump.

Merriman!

Oh, wake up,
can't you?

Fetch us
some wine.

Wha...yes.

There. That should soon
burn up, now, sir.

Then you'll be
a bit more cozy.

Ah, thank you.

Would you
like me to...

No! No-no my dear.
I'll...

I'll do it myself.

Oh, very good.

Here.

Oh, no, sir.
There's no need.

Oh, no,
that's too much.

Oh, is it?

Do you want them
to think I stole it?

Oh, no, no,
of course not.

Just a little something
when you leave, sir.

That's all
that's necessary.

Oh. Huh.

Well, I expect
I'll be...

Seeing you
again, hmm?

Oh, yes. I'll be in later
to turn down your bed.

Oh, yes, of course.

Have you got everything
you need, sir?

Oh, yes.
Yes, thank you.

Just ring the bell
if you want anything.

Oh, I don't want
to be

a bother to anyone.

That's what
we're here for.

Oh. All right.

Lady Harpenden's
in for luncheon.

Oh, so I saw.

Give her
that sauterne.

Sweet as syrup.

Don't chill it
too much.

Wet, warm,
and sweet...

that's how
she likes it.

No taste
and no palate.

Don't know why
I have her here.

Because
she's a countess.

Silly old custard.

Yeah, I suppose
you're right.

Happy days,
and plenty of them.

Hmm.

I don't know what to do
with the ones I've got.

I suppose...

If my father hadn't died
when he did,

I might have gone
into Parliament.

Oh, Charlie,

you always say
the House of Commons

is full
of third-raters

who like to talk
but never listen.

Well, yes,

but with the 2 big
parties breaking up

and people like Winston
and Hugh Cecil giving

the old guard hell,

politics has become
more interesting.

I wouldn't have minded
taking a hand in it myself.

Well, you still can
in the House of Lords.

Ugh! Aspic in ermine.

I might as well
try and play politics

in Fortnum & Mason.

Everything I do
is so bloody useless.

Do you realize
that if I died tomorrow,

no one would know
or care?

Now, how can you
say that?

You would miss me,
perhaps...

A handful
of my friends.

What about
your estates

and all the people
who depend on you?

Well, the agent
looks after that

a damn sight better
than I ever could.

Something
in Shakespeare...

"I fill a place.
I know it."

Is that enough
for a lifetime?

And all the clever
things you do:

your music,
your painting.

My painting.

And here I thought
you was

down in the dumps
because of

Mrs. Tremayne.

I've been wanting
to try and break

with her for weeks.

It's your painting
really, isn't it?

Why do you say that?

You've all
them pictures up

from Bishopsleigh,

and then you
wouldn't let me

have them put up.

Because they're not
worth hanging!

I thought they were,
but they're not!

It's ridiculous,
isn't it?

When I have enough money
to buy pictures,

why should I want
to paint them? But I do.

It's the only thing
I've ever really

wanted to do.

You know, my father...

Thought artists
were like gardeners...

fellows who did the work
so that we could enjoy it...

Oh, only not quite
as respectable

as gardeners.

More like
chorus boys.

When he died...

..and I was able to
build myself that studio,

I felt for the first time
in my life

as though I had
a real place in the world...

..me, not just
Charlie Tyrrell

or just Lord Haslemere.

Me.

But as soon as I got
the paintings up here

away from the studio,

I knew what daubs
they really were.

They're not daubs!

They're beautiful!
I'll bet you

I could name you
half a dozen

art dealers be only
too happy

to have them
to sell.

You ask
Arthur shepherd.

Go on, ask him.

Oh, my dear Louisa,
he wouldn't touch

my paintings
with a barge-pole.

There's no harm
in letting him

have a look at them,
give you an opinion.

No point, either.

I see. It was just
a lot of blah,

wasn't it?

What was?

All that about
wanting to do

something with
your life.

You can think
what you like...

But I admire talent
too much

to pretend that I have it
when I haven't.

Well, you don't
know, do you?

So why not find out?

What's the matter?
Don't you dare?

He's coming in
this evening...

have a drink,

have a look at
my piece of Mason.

I'll get him
to have a look

at your paintings
while he's here,

shall I?

What the devil?

Fred!

Fred, be quiet!
Get back in your basket!

Shut that row!
Go on!

I was just...

Did you want something?
Be quiet!

I was just looking
for the lounge.

We don't have
a public sitting room.

Oh, oh, I see.

Do I need to book a table
in the dining room?

Our guests eat
in their rooms.

If you want
something,

you just ask
the waiter.

I shall be
wanting lunch.

I see.
What would you like?

Oh, anything.

No. I'll have...

I'll have
a nice meal.

What time
would you like it?

Oh, half past 12:00.

It will probably take
a bit longer than that

to prepare.

Probably be
about half past 1:00.

Oh, that's all right.
I'm not particular.

Most people here
are...

Very particular.

Now, come on, Ethel.
Now, bustle about.

That's only the luncheons.

There's plenty
to prepare for tonight,

and Mrs. Trotter
will be down soon

to see how
we're getting on.

Have you chopped
that parsley?

Yes, Mrs. Cochrane.

Now, what did I
tell you?

I said chop it
small.

That's like
cabbage leaves.

It should be so fine
you wouldn't know

it was parsley
but for the color.

It hardly seems
worth all the bother

just to sprinkle
on potatoes.

You know what
Mrs. Trotter says...

there can be
just as much perfection

in cooking boiled potatoes

as there can
in making a soup.

Don't put any parsley
on the bishop's potatoes.

Oh, Lord, no.
I quite forgot.

He doesn't like
parsley, does he?

Threw the whole dish at me head
last time he was here.

Mr. Merriman,
he never did...

and him a bishop!

Lucky he wasn't a cricketer.
He missed me.

Did you want your dinner
now, Mr. Merriman?

No, no. May as well
have it afterwards,

sit and enjoy it.

Oh, the new gent in number 11
wants luncheon.

Oh, what a time
to tell me.

What does he want?

Mrs. Trotter says give him
the blanquette de veau.

He won't like that.

I'm preparing it
for Lady Harpenden,

and she won't have
any salt in it.

He can put his own salt on
afterwards.

Mr. Merriman, Mrs. Trotter
never said that.

No, but she winked it.

If you ask me,
that gentleman

wouldn't know
the difference between

blanquette de veau
and stewed rabbit.

What's he doing here
insulting our cooking?

Ha ha!
You may well ask.

Here's your
luncheon, sir.

Oh, yes.
Thank you.

Would you care
to have it

by the window, sir,
or by the fire?

Oh, anywhere.

Uh...

By the fire.

It feels
a bit chilly.

By the fire.
Very good, sir.

Well, what
have we got, then?

Clear soup with
custard shapes, sir,

baked haddock
with forcemeat,

blanquette de veau,

vanilla pudding.

Will that be
satisfactory, sir?

Oh, it's
very nice.

Very good, sir.

Here.
Where's the wine?

I was not aware
that you wished

for wine, sir.

Oh, I'll have
some Champagne.

Very good, sir.
What mark?

Oh, just plain
Champagne.

Plain cham...

very good, sir.

SHEPHERD: Mmm.
Interesting.

Unusual handling
of light and shade.

CHARLIE: I did
that one in Naples

when I was there
last year.

Oh.

Unconventional
but effective, yes.

Now, now, I think
this is an early work.

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes,
it has a freshness,

but compared
to the others,

there's a lack
of technique.

SHEPHERD: Oh.

Oh, yes, yes, yes,
this is charming.

Have you ever seen
any of the work

of the French
painter Monet?

Oh, yes.
I bought

one of his paintings
in Paris.

Well, well, this...
this has something

of the same style
about it.

Yes, yes, yes.

Well...

Thank you.

Thank you
for letting me see them.

Who's going to
have some wine?

CHARLIE: Oh,
we all are, I hope.

What a charming
room this is.

I was at Camber
last week...

delightful house...
On the whole.

Lady Arlington
wanted my opinion

on a painting
that she'd bought,

but do you know,
she'd had it hung

in such an ugly
little room

that I positively
could not judge it,

so I...oh,
thank you very much.

So I said to her,

"My dear Lady Arlington,
move it.

"Hang it in a railway
carriage...anywhere...

"But I positively
cannot judge it

"In a poky little room

"surrounded by
expensively bad

marquetry furniture!"

So she moved it.

I didn't like
the picture.

Oh! Ha ha!

But...

But I do like yours.

There. I said
you would.

Well, I hope
you're not

allowing yourself
to be persuaded

by Mrs. Trotter's
friendly partiality.

Oh, no. Louisa...
may I?

Oh, yes.
Please do.

Louisa's opinion is...
is always interesting.

She knows
what people like.

That's why
she's so successful.

I don't know
if Louisa told you

that I'm opening
a new gallery.

Oh, yes, she did.

I wish you luck
with it.

Oh, it's always
a chancy business.

English people
don't buy paintings.

They always think
they could

do them themselves if
only they had the time.

Anyway, I want to start...
as I mean to go on...

and I'm going to open

with an exhibition
of paintings

by a young polish artist,
Tadeusz Svorski.

Well, he...

He paints
rather erratically...

not a large output...

and I was hoping
to hang the work

of another artist
with his.

I should very much
like it to be yours,

Lord Haslemere.

Oh, well...
I never thought...

if you really
think...

I mean, if you think
they're good enough.

I should expect
the usual commission,

of course, on any
that were sold.

Yes, certainly.

But I...
I have a problem.

Tadeusz is
very talented,

but his work is rough...
almost violent...

whereas yours is...

..how can I say...

civilized.

From my point of view,
it's a perfect contrast,

but...but I think
I should warn you

that your work could suffer
as a result of it.

Do you feel like
taking the chance?

Ha ha! Well,
I will if you will.

Well, that's
settled, then.

Oh!

Oh, I beg
your pardon, sir.

Oh, it's all right.

I was just having
a nap.

Very good. I'll put
some coal on the fire,

make the room
a bit more cozy.

You...you don't
come from

round here, do you?

Oh, no, sir.
I come from Wales...

A long time ago
now, though.

I suppose you
go back there

for holidays, now?

Don't seem to have
holidays, sir.

Mrs. Trotter keeps busy,
and she keeps us busy, too.

Everyone should
have holidays.

I'm in the shipping
business.

Oh. Must be
exciting, sir.

Yeah.

Ha ha! Oh, yeah.

If you...If you had
the choice

of going anywhere
in the world,

where would you go?

Hmm.

I...I don't know.

Wales, I think.

Wouldn't you like
to go to,

say, Africa?

No, I don't think so.

Bit too foreign for me,
that would be.

They say as you sail

towards the coast
of Africa,

you notice it has

a special smell
to it

quite different from

anywhere
in the world.

Daresay it does.

I wouldn't mind going
to the Isle of Man.

They say you can get there
and back in a day.

I wouldn't like to sleep
away from home.

I'll, uh, come back
later, sir,

and turn down the bed.

No, no.
You can do it now.

I think
I'll turn in.

I'm feeling
a bit tired.

Out of my way, Fred.

Someone moving out?

No, sir.

Nice pictures,
those.

Where are they
going?

Not my place
to inquire, sir.

Did you want
something?

Well...

Yes.

If someone wanted
a jolly evening out,

where would he go?

I couldn't say
I'm sure, sir.

I've been to
the theater

a few times.

Oh, yes, sir.

Saw H.B. Irving
and Martin-Harvey,

but they were
both playing

the same part...
"Hamlet."

Bit disappointing,
that.

I've heard
the Cafe Royal

was very good.

Thought I might
go there tonight.

Have you booked
a table, sir?

No.

You have to book a table
in good time.

Oh, I see.

Yes. Come in!

Who is it?

Oh.

Mr. Parker.

I hope you don't mind,
my lord,

but I heard the piano,

and being very fond
of music myself,

I wondered
if you would object

if I was to just...

I...I thought this was
the music room!

No. I'm afraid

I only play for
my own amusement.

Of course. I'm sorry
to have disturbed you.

Oh, come in, anyway.

Would you care
for a drink?

Oh, well...

No. I don't want
to trouble the waiter.

Oh, I see you've got
some there.

That's convenient.

I never thought
to ask for that.

Well, um...

I'll have
a small port, then.

Do you stay here
often?

Oh, yes. Yes,
I always stay here

when I'm in London.

Oh, well, I expect
you've got

one or 2 of your own
bits and pieces

to make it
more homelike.

Yes, quite a lot
of this stuff

is mine.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, that...that's
a nice picture there.

That cost you a bauble,
too, I'll be bound.

Well, as a matter
of fact,

it didn't cost me
anything.

I painted it myself.

Nay.

Oh, ha!

Oh, it must be...

it must be grand to have
a talent like that.

Yeah, I reckon
that's champion.

Have you done
any more?

Well, yes,
quite a few,

as a matter of fact,

but they've gone
to a gallery

for exhibition.

What, you mean
to be shown to public?

Oh, I'd like
to see that.

I suppose I couldn't buy
a ticket, could I?

Well, would you
really like to go?

Aye, that I would.

There's a private
view tomorrow

if you'd care to
have an invitation.

Oh, yes, please.

Thank you. Ah!

"Mr. Parker."
Very nice.

Oh, Bond Street, eh?

Well, it's not far
from here.

I can walk there.

Well, I shall really
look forward to that.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Ah!

My dear Charles!

Mmm! How terribly clever
you are...

absolutely too deevie
for words.

Well, I'm so glad
you like them.

By jove, yes.

Couldn't paint
a boiled egg myself,

and you've done
all these.

Can't think when
you found the time.

Ha ha ha!

Did you frame them
yourself?

No, no. Mr. Shepherd
did that part.

Ah. Still, the painting's
the hard part, isn't it?

Deuced good,
I must say.

My dear...
excuse me.

My dear
Lord Haslemere,

I do hope
you're pleased

with the way
they're hung.

Oh, yes. Excellent.

Tadeusz's work is
quite striking,

isn't it?

Rather
undisciplined,

somewhat lacking
in finesse.

Oh, they quite
make me shudder.

I don't think
I'd want to buy one

to hang
in my drawing room.

I do know what you mean,
my dear Eleanor.

They are rather primitive,
don't you think?

Even shameless.

Mr. Shepherd, I do believe
you mean to shock us.

Of course,
Lady Williams.

I hope
I'm succeeding.

Ha ha ha!

As you say,
his work

is certainly
very striking.

Won't you come
and have

a word with him?

I know he'd be
highly honored.

Yes, of course.
Will you excuse me?

We'll look at all
your lovely paintings

while you're gone.

SHEPHERD:
Excuse me.

Excuse me.
Excuse me.

Lord Haslemere, may I introduce
Tadeusz Svorski?

Tadeusz, I know you'll be
pleased to meet

your fellow artist.

How do you do?

I think your pictures
are splendid.

They're not splendid.

They're not good, even,

but the statement
they make...

something
they be saying.

Well, all paintings
do that, surely.

Ha ha! No.

You think
maybe, uh...

A camera be
making statement?

Forgive me. I just see...
Mr. Camperling.

Mr...

But surely to reproduce
what we see

in a certain style...

is what
a camera does.

Artist should be
saying

something more,

something
only himself

can be saying,

not nobody else,

or he should not be
speaking at all.

I'm sure
you're right.

No. You not agree.

Why should you be
agreeing?

You paint
for pleasure.

I paint to live.

Oh, really, I do think
it's too sweet of Charles

to have his little
pictures hung here

just as if he were
a real painter.

Damn clever
of Shepherd.

Be in all the papers,
I imagine.

Of course, I suppose he wanted
to get us all here

to see the pictures
of this Polish fellow.

Can't say
I like them myself.

I think
I prefer Charles'.

Do you suppose he paid
this fellow Shepherd

to have them
hung up here?

Well, I don't see
why he shouldn't

if he wants to.

It's like Florie
paying to have

her poems printed.

ELEANOR: What,
don't you remember?

We all had to buy
a copy

and pretend
to read them.

LADY WILLIAMS:
Oh, my dear, do look

at that little man
in the blue suit.

Who can he be?

By jove, I do believe
dear old Charles

is so proud
of his pictures

he's invited his valet
to come and see them.

Ha ha ha!

You don't think
he could have

heard us, do you?

Oh, my dear,
of course not.

We were speaking
so quietly.

Morning,
Lord Haslemere.

Here they are, then.

Yes.

Let's get you
a drink.

Oh.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, I say,

this is doing it
in style, isn't it?

You painted
all these? Oh!

Well, I'm...I'm proud
to know you, my lord.

Did you...did you do
that one, too?

Oh, no, no.
That one's

by Mr. Svorski.

Ha ha! I thought
it weren't one of yours.

I can hardly make out
what it's supposed to be.

All smudges and smears.

Not like yours...not like
a real painting at all.

Hello.
How did it go?

How did you expect?

Did you pay Shepherd

to hang my pictures
in his gallery?

No, of course not.

But you did point out
what an advantage

it would be to him.

"Just think...all his
lordship's rich friends

will come and make
your gallery a success."

It wasn't like that
at all.

You know what he said
about your paintings.

I know what he
should have said:

"Very good, my lord,
for an amateur."

God! That's
what I hate

about my whole life.

I'm an amateur
in everything I do,

so it doesn't
really matter

whether I do it
or not.

You know, I see
those little clerks

grinding their way
to work

in the city
every morning,

and I envy them.

They have to work
to live.

That bloody Pole
was right.

If I never painted
another picture,

it wouldn't make
any difference

to anyone...

Except to me.

And now...

Thanks to you,
I never shall.

Thank you, Louisa.

Thank you very much
for closing

another door
in my stupid,

meaningless prison
of a life.

Oh, Lord Haslemere,

I wondered where
you'd gone to.

I wanted
to congratulate you

on the great success
of your exhibition.

Your pictures
are wonderful...

quite wonderful.

Everyone says so,

and you'll be pleased
to know I bought one.

They wanted
to keep it there

and put on
one of them

bits of red paper
to show it was sold,

but I said,
"No, thank you.

I paid for it.
I'll take it."

They didn't mind,
really.

There were several
bits of red

on that other chap's
paintings.

I can't think
why anybody should

want to buy them
over yours, now.

I expect they'll
all be sold

at the end of
the week,

so I thought
I better buy one now

while there was
still choice.

Be worth
a pretty penny,

that will one day,
I shouldn't wonder.

You stupid, common
little bounder,

what do you know
about it?

That wasn't an exhibition.
It was a ludicrous farce.

As for that thing,
I advise you

to take it away
and chop it up

for firewood.

Damn and blast.

Stupid little man.

May I come in?

I know I'm not
a gentleman,

but I don't think
I'm a bounder.

I know you're not.

I do beg
your pardon.

It's all right.

Took too much on meself.
I know that.

No, no,
it's just that...

well, it's been
a bad day for me.

Oh, well, your pictures
were grand.

It's very kind
of you to say so,

but I'm afraid
they weren't.

May I sit down?

Oh, yes.

Sh-shall I ring
for a drink?

Oh, no, no.
Don't bother. Thank you.

You know,
Mr. Parker...

The trouble
with being a lord

is that no one
tells you the truth.

Mostly it doesn't
matter too much,

but when it's something
one really cares about,

people shouldn't lie.

No, no,
they shouldn't.

I realize now that when
it comes to talent

and whether
you have it or not,

it's rather like
a mortal illness.

No one tells you
the truth...

not even
the doctors.

Sometimes they do.

Uh, I mean, uh...

I beg your pardon?

Oh, nothing.
I was just...

Were you going to
say something

about doctors?

No.

Are you ill, Mr. Parker?

No.

Well, that is...

What did they
tell you?

Oh, well...

They didn't know
exactly

how long it'd be,
but, well,

just there
was nothing

they could do.

Are you sure they're right?

Oh, yes.

What a poky
little room this is.

I can't imagine why
Mrs. Trotter

gave you this room.

Oh, it's good
enough for me.

I'm only
a shipping clerk.

They know that here.

I've...I've spent

all me life sitting
on a stool

in an office in Hull

sending other people
off to exciting places,

but when I knew
I had only

a few months left,

I couldn't bear to die
before I'd really lived.

So you came to London?
I think if I'd been you,

I'd have gone
around the world

on one of your ships.

Oh, thought of that,

but I didn't
fancy the idea

of dying abroad.

Bit frightening, that.

Yes.

But I had read about
this hotel in papers,

and about Mrs. Trotter

and how she cooked
for royalty and...

You decided to
try it.

Yes.

I stole the money.

You stole it?

Well, as good as.

I drew out
all our savings.

You see, me wife worked
till we were married,

and we never had
any children,

so we had
quite a bit put by.

Me wife...

Doesn't know.

She thinks
the shipping company

gave me a free voyage
for 25 years' service.

I see.

See, I've...I've been
at other people's

beck and call
all me life,

and I thought
I'd like to be

waited on for a bit

as if I was
someone important.

But it doesn't do
to pretend to be

what you're not.

Oh, I didn't mean...

You...you won't tell
anyone, will you?

I mean, I've always
paid me way

and stood
on me own feet.

Wouldn't like to think
anybody was, well,

feeling sorry for me.

I won't tell anyone.
I promise.

Not a soul.

What are these
supposed to be?

Guinea fowl?

Look awful to me.

What do they think
they're doing,

sending me muck like that?

Ethel, put all them birds
back in the hamper

and run them
round to Maythers.

Tell them if they
can't send me

some with more flesh
on them,

they needn't bother
to send me no more.

Louisa, may I have
a word with you, please?

Now, don't tell me
you've got

something
to complain about.

I had 20 minutes
with the bishop

this morning
because there was

a pinch of tarragon
in the soup last night.

He swears he could
taste it.

What sort of soup

did you serve
to Mr. Parker?

Who?

He's one of
your guests.

I know he is,
thanks to you.

Yes, I'm sorry to have made
such a stupid mistake.

I hadn't realized
this was the kind of hotel

which had different
classes of guests,

just like the railways.

What the devil
do you mean by that?

Come on, Louisa...
poky little room,

second-class food,
third-class service.

Not in my hotel!

No?

Mrs. Trotter thought
you might care for

a little claret, sir,
this evening.

Oh, yes.

A bit warm,
isn't it?

I beg your pardon, sir,
but as you know,

a claret is supposed to be
at room temperature.

A chambre, however, if I...

No, no, no.
It's all right.

Oh, it's very nice.

Yes.

LOUISA: Hello,
Mr. Parker.

Tasted me
guinea fowl yet?

Your what?

It's me
special recipe.

No one else cooks it
like I do.

No, sit down.

I'll join you
in a glass of wine.

Oh, come on,
old Muddleman,

stir your steps.

Fetch me
another glass.

Well, how are you
enjoying it

here, then?

Usually we leave
guests alone

for a day or 2,

let them get
settled down,

see if they like us
and if I like them.

Mind you,
if I don't think

they're our sort,

I make them
so uncomfortable

they push off quick.

Oh, yes?

Yeah. Got rid of
2 baronets

and a duke
last year.

Oh.

Oh...
Ha ha ha!

Oh, Mrs. Trotter.

How do you like it?

I've never tasted
anything like it

in me whole life.

Long life and happiness.

Now then, Fred.
This is Mr. Parker.

I hope you'll know him
when you see him again.

Morning, Fred.
Ha ha!

Hello, hello.
Are you getting

introduced to Fred?

Well, that's an honor,
isn't it, Starr?

Most people don't
meet Fred formally

until their second visit.

That's right,
me lord.

Me and Fred,
we like to keep

ourselves to ourselves,

but we know
who we like,

don't we, Fred?

Oh, yes.
I know very well

that if I ever fall
out of favor with Fred,

I shall have to leave.

Well, Mr. Parker.
Ready for our expedition?

All ready, my lord.
Oh, uh...

Hat, sir?

Oh, thank you.

Oh, Starr, get us
a couple of tickets

for the hippodrome
tonight, will you?

Yes, me lord.

Oh, and you better book
a table at Romano's.

Make it a table for 6.

I thought I'd ask
some friends to join us.

Oh, yes.

Hello.
Where are you two

off to, then?

We're just off
to my tailor's.

Mr. Parker fancied
to get himself

some new evening clothes,

so we got his measurements
'round to Grafton Street,

and we thought we'd see
what old Mr. Forster

could do for us.

And I'm getting
a new shirt, too,

from...what was
the name?

Edouard and Butler.

Edouard and Butler's.

Right.

By the way, Louisa,
we'll be out to luncheon.

We thought
we'd try the Ritz.

Ha! Good luck to you.

His lordship's
always had a soft spot

for lame dogs.

Not as soft as this.

♪ Champagne Charlie
is me name ♪

♪ Champagne Charlie
is me name ♪

STARR: Yes, I'm coming,
me lords.

Hello, Starr!

Oh, Starr!

Good evening,
me lord.

It's not
good evening!

Ha ha ha!

It's good morning.

Isn't it a good
morning, Parkie?!

Ha ha ha!

LOUISA: Oh,
it's you.

Uh, just, um,
holding old Parkie up.

He's not so steady
on his pittance.

Yeah. Somebody needs
holding up.

I don't think
it's Mr. Parker.

Come on, Starr.

STARR: Are you
all right, sir?

Oh, I'm all right.

I can manage
all by meself.

You look after
his lordship.

He's a good lad,

but he hasn't got
a head for drink,

not like those chaps.

HENRY: Let's sing
another song.

Where's old Parkie?

LOUISA: He's coming.

HENRY: Come on,
let's sing another chorus.

LOUISA: No!
You're going to

wake everyone up.

HENRY: Shh!

♪ Champagne Charlie
is my name... ♪

Oh, excuse me, sir.
I thought I'd better

just make up the fire.

It can feel a bit
chilly when you...

Ha ha ha!

Would you like me to
take your shoes off, sir?

Oh, what a night.

Oh, what a night.

There were lords
and dukes and all sorts,

and there was a lady
on a swing...

a red, velvet swing...

and she swung
right out over

where we were sitting,

and she threw me...
I don't know what

the wife would have
said if she'd seen it.

Look! Ha ha ha!
Look what she threw me!

Oh!

Ha ha!

You should be
ashamed of yourselves.

Had to have
a night out, Louisa.

Couldn't let
old Parkie die

without having
just one good night out.

Die? Come on.

Ugh.

Good morning, sir.

It's a nice, sunny day.
I'll just light your fire,

and then I don't suppose
you'll care for

too much breakfast
this morning,

so shall I send
Mr. Benjamin up

with a little
pick-you-up?

Mr. Parker?

Are you all right, sir?

Mr. Parker?

For goodness sake,
girl,

what's the matter
with you?

Oh, Mrs. Cochrane,

I've done
something terrible.

You haven't cut
your finger again

and put blood on

Mrs. Trotter's
souffle?

No. It's much worse
than that.

That first night
that Parker

gentleman come here,

I...I...

Well?

I put pepper in his soup.

God will strike me dead!

If you ask me,
God's got

better things to do.

Go on. Strain
them vegetables

for his broth.

That'll make you
feel better.

MERRIMAN: I hope
Mrs. Trotter is doing

the right thing,
keeping him here.

Oh, Mr. Merriman,
of course she is.

Poor man.
It's the least

we can do.

Death in the hotel
is bad for business.

Oh, yes, ruination.

Hasn't he got a family?
Take him off home.

That's where
he belongs.

Louisa, you have got to
send for his wife.

I won't do it!

Why won't Mary pull
them curtains

proper in
the morning?

Look like
a bundle of rags.

She has a right
to know.

Yeah, and he has
a right

to enjoy himself...

Do what he wants to

with what's left
of his life.

I'm not having him
upset by some

nagging bitch
of a wife!

If he wanted her to know,
he'd have told her,

but he didn't.

He chose to come here,

and this is where
he belongs.

Louisa...

You are the kindest
woman in the world.

Am I?

Yes.

But, my dear, you can't
make Parker live

out of the kindness
of your heart

any more than you could
make me into an artist.

No, but I can
give him a home...

a real home,

and that's what
I'm going to do.

There.

What do you
think of that?

STANLEY: You didn't
get that for me.

Yeah. Doctor says
you can

get up tomorrow.

Don't want you
celebrating the event

in that moth-eaten
old thing.

Ha ha!

See, it's nice and warm.
It's padded.

Oh, it's
too good for me.

Nothing's too good
for my guests.

If you're looking
for your topper,

Starr took it away
to be ironed.

You're going to be
needing that.

Lord Haslemere's going
to newmarket next week.

He wants you
to go with him.

Oh, yes.

That'll be
very interesting,

but I really should
be going soon.

Oh, you don't
want to go yet,

and if you're worried
about your bill,

don't worry.

What you need is half
a bottle of bubbly

to put the color
back in your cheeks.

Oh, Champagne's
a bit too expensive

every day.

Don't you worry.
If it gets too steep,

we just put it
on someone else's bill.

Rob Peter to pay Paul, eh?

Mrs. Trotter,
that's not quite

honest, is it?

Well, nobody's
complained yet.

Mrs. Parker
has arrived.

Eh?

Mr. Parker's wife
has turned up

asking to see him.

Oh, no. Where?

Hello, Stanley.

Your trip ended
a bit sooner than

you expected, then.

Yes. Yes, it did.

Then I came here
for a few days,

but I got taken ill.

Oh, well.

I expect you'll soon be
on your feet again.

Makes a nice change
for you, this place.

I can see they're
looking after you

all right.

Better than I could,
I shouldn't wonder.

Not much like
Moors End road, is it?

Take me home, Violet.

I don't belong here.

All right, Stan.

Shall we go
first-class?

Never done that,
have we?

No, Violet.

We won't waste
the brass.

You'll need it
after I'm gone.

All right, Stan.

I'll just go
and take me hat off,

and then I'll
come back.

Lunch should be
ready soon.

I expect you'd like to
have it in here

with Mr. Parker.

Mrs. Trotter is
a grand cook, Vi.

Almost as good
as you.

You made use of me,
Mr. Shepherd.

That was rather unfair.

Yes. Yes, it was.

Tell me one thing...
The truth.

If I worked hard,
perhaps went and studied

in Italy for a few years,

could I ever meet
professional artists

on equal terms?

No.

You have a talent,

but it's the kind
of talent

that young ladies

practice with
their governesses

and never use again.

I'm sorry, but
you wanted the truth.

I felt I owed you that.

Has...has SvorskI
a real talent?

Oh, yes,
quite remarkable.

He works hard,
and he's learning

all the time.

The trouble is,
he's penniless.

I'll pay his rent
for a year

and make him
a small allowance

if you'll show his pictures
in your gallery.

That's very
generous of you.

Will you split
commission with me?

I think not.

You see, I don't
really like his work.

Well...

Oh, I nearly forgot.

Some of your pictures
were sold.

To my friends.

Not all of them.

A Mr. Parker
bought one.

Oh, yes.

Here's the check.

Thank you.

You see, Mr. Shepherd,

I'm not quite
an amateur after all.

MARY: Shall I
take that, madam?

Oh, thanks very much.

MERRIMAN: I'll put these
in the cabinet.

Oh, thank you.
Stan...

Oh, that's right.

Just a minute, Vi.

Mary...

Thank you very much

for all you've
done for me.

Thank you very much, sir.

It's been a pleasure
to have you here.

Good-bye.

Good-bye.

Stanley, you gave
her much too much.

My dear, when you're
staying in

a place like this,

you have to
tip accordingly.

Oh, I see.

STANLEY: Bye-bye,
everybody.

Bye-bye, Fred.

Bleeding shame.

Yeah.

If she hadn't
arrived,

we could have
given him

a bang-up send-off.

I suppose it was
Lord Haslemere

who sent for her.

Him and his blooming
respectability.

No, ma'am, it wasn't
his lordship.

It was me.

I wrote to her.

Oh, did you?

A man's got a right
to die at home.