Sense and Sensibility (1971) - full transcript

(Clattering)

(Servants grunt)

No, no, I cannot stand it.

Don't look, Mama. Turn your head away.

To be reduced to being mere visitors
on sufferance in one's own house!

No, indeed, I cannot endure it.

Oh, poor beloved Norland!

- (Clattering)
- Look at them!

Like the hordes of an invading army!

But you must remember
the house is now theirs by right.

Oh, don't talk to me of rights!



What are they compared with feelings
and the concerns of the human heart?

Oh, believe me, I do understand your attitude.

But alas, strong feelings alone
are of no great value in a court of law.

- Oh!
- Now come, Mama.

How they can be so insensitive

as to force their way in and dispossess us
with the ink scarcely dry upon the will,

I do not know.

Well, one thing is certain. I cannot bring
myself to be civil to that young woman.

- No, nor I.
- But, Mother!

I'm sure it is all her doing.

Oh, well.

My mind is quite made up.

I shall seek some other place for us to live.

I cannot remain here on sufferance.



What, and leave Norland?

I... I think I should die!

Fanny, my love, I have been thinking.

I feel it as an obligation

that we should make some additional provision
for the girls and their mother.

After all, Norland has been
their home all their lives.

Remember, John dear,
they are only your half sisters,

and their mother, excellent woman
though no doubt she may be,

is no blood relation at all.

Oh, yes, quite.

But it was my father's last request to me
that I should assist his widow and daughters.

So you say, dear. But ten to one
he was light-headed at the time.

He must have been, to persuade you to give
half your fortune away from your own child.

- I...
- But do exactly as you wish, of course.

The money is yours.

In that case we will settle
the matter immediately.

(Fanny) Very well, John dear.

But it was not my intention
to give away half this legacy, my love,

although I suppose it could be said that we
were already reasonably provided for ourselves.

No, I was thinking in terms
of an annuity of some sort.

An annuity?

Oh, John dear, is that wise?

I have not seen Mrs. Dashwood closely

but if you observe,
people always seem to live forever

once an annuity
has been settled upon them.

No, I cannot agree to that.

But the decision is entirely yours, of course.

Please ask Mrs. Dashwood
and the Miss Dashwoods

if they would be kind enough to join us.

No, you are probably quite right, my love.

On second thoughts, it would be wiser,
possibly, to make it a fixed amount.

And no doubt
they would greatly prefer it that way.

What sum had you in mind?

Well, would you think a thousand pounds
to be an adequate amount?

A thousand pounds?

I should think they would consider it
a prodigious increase to their fortunes.

What brother on earth would do
half as much for his sisters, I'd like to know,

even if they were his real sisters?

- You think it is too much, then?
- Oh, no, indeed. Not in the least.

If that is the sum you are settled upon.

I was merely thinking that three women alone
with no man to guide them,

one wouldn't like to feel they might
become the prey of fortune hunters.

Oh, that is true. That is very true.

A smaller sum prudently invested

would not prove a temptation
to the unscrupulous,

while in addition to what they already have,

should secure their independence
if they are careful.

To be sure it would.

Indeed, I am certain your father had no thought
of anything near so generous in his mind.

You are probably quite right, my love.

Goodness!

Three women alone, with no carriage
and scarcely any servants?

Their housekeeping will be nothing at all.

Indeed, you can depend upon it.

They will be far better off
than we are in this great house

with 20 servants
and so much entertaining to be done.

As to your giving them more,
it's quite absurd.

If you ask me, they will be
much more able to give you something.

- (Knock at door)
- Ah, here they are.

Come in.

Well, now, there is no need to extend to you
a welcome to what is...

Oh.

My mother and Marianne ask me to apologize
but they're very busy sewing at the moment.

They hope to be down shortly.

Indeed.

I trust that you're quite
comfortably settled, Fanny?

I always think moving house is so fatiguing.

Thank you. We are getting straight by degrees.

Good, I'm so glad.

Well, now, we wish to make it quite clear -

do we not, my love? -

that though by the terms
of my father's bequest

Norland has now passed into my possession,

we naturally wish to extend
a very sincere welcome...

- Yes, what is it?
- Oh, I beg your pardon. I... I was not aware.

- Oh, do please come in.
- Ah, Edward.

May I present my wife's brother,
Mr. Edward Ferrars. Miss Dashwood.

- How do you do, Mr. Ferrars?
- How do you do... ma'am?

Fanny and Edward's dear mother has
a very fine place not far from Tunbridge Wells.

- Is that so?
- Yes, a very fine place indeed.

- (Fanny) Edward, please be seated!
- Please do sit down.

I do beg your pardon.

Yes, as I was saying,

the, er... the timber alone

is considered to be some of the most valuable
in the south of England.

You say he's handsome,
but has he what I call an expressive face?

Oh, yes, I think so.

One can hardly credit such a thing,
somehow, in one of that family.

At least he bears
no resemblance at all to Fanny.

Oh, then that is enough for me.
It implies everything that is amiable.

I'm sure you will both like him
when you get to know him.

Like him? I almost love him already.

Oh, dearest Mama. You are incorrigible.

Oh, Elinor, my love.

I do apologize for my outburst just now
and for my childish refusal to meet her.

From henceforth,
I promise you I will mend my ways.

Oh, what should we do
without our wise, our prudent Elinor?

But what are his interests, Elinor,
and his powers of conversation?

Rather limited, I fear.
As I say, he scarcely spoke a word.

Yet you liked him, eh? For you did like him
a little, my love, I think, did you not?

What I was permitted to see and hear

while brother John was holding forth

about the great wealth and perfection
of the Ferrars family in general,

I liked well enough, certainly.

Ah, Miss Dashwood.

Oh, am I the first down?

I was just admiring this view of the house.
Were you the artist?

I was, yes.

I don't profess to be a great judge of these...
matters, but it seems most excellent to me.

From where exactly did you take it?
The viewpoint is most novel.

Ah, well, I am afraid my sister
must take the credit for that, Mr. Ferrars.

She has a great eye for the picturesque.

I merely record
what is before me as best I can.

- I'm sure you underestimate yourself.
- (Marianne) Elinor!

Here she is so you can ask her yourself.

For heaven's sake,
save me from brother John and that awful...

Oh!

I beg your pardon.

- Mr. Edward Ferrars, my sister Marianne.
- How do you do, Miss... Marianne.

How do you do?

Mr. Ferrars was intrigued to know
from which point the sketch was taken.

I was about to tell him that we could show him
many others equally fine, could we not?

- You could, but I'm afraid I could not.
- Marianne!

Mr. Ferrars, wise and discerning man, has paid
you the compliment of admiring your work.

Please don't embarrass him
by dragging me into it.

Mm. But I thought I heard the gong.

- In that case, perhaps...
- Oh, no, I might well have been mistaken.

Please excuse me.

There are several other sketches of my sister's,
which I'm sure you'd like to see, on that wall.

Over here?

I'm sorry, Mr. Ferrars,
but you cannot possibly wish to see them.

But I do.

(Dinner gong)

Ah, good. Then we may all go in for dinner.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I... must ere long lie as lowly as they

With a turf on my breast
and a stone at my head,

Ere another such grove
shall arise in its stead.

(Clears throat)

'Tis a sight to engage... me, if any thing can,

To... muse on the perishing pleasures of man;

Though his life be a dream,
his enjoyments, I see,

Have a being less... durable even than he.

Bravo, bravo!

You chose well, Edward.

It's a particular favorite of Marianne's.
Isn't it, my love?

Yes, Mama.

Well, now, who else will entertain us?

Elinor, may we be permitted
the pleasure of hearing you sing?

Oh, I doubt very much whether you could
account it a pleasure, brother, if I did.

No, Marianne is the musician in the family.
She is an accomplished singer.

- Ah. Marianne?
- I'm sorry, I'm afraid I have a sore throat.

Dearest, you never told me.

Well, then, perhaps the young people
would like a hand at cards.

- John dear?
- Yes, dear.

And what is your opinion of the novels
of Mrs. Radcliffe, cousin Edward?

Well, if it's just an opinion you want, cousin,
I will give it readily.

But I have to admit, in all honesty,
that I haven't read them.

Do you mean you actually haven't read
The Castle Of Otranto?

- (Edward) I have to confess it. I have not.
- Oh!

There, now I suppose
you will never speak to me again.

Oh, Marianne! One cannot possibly
expect gentlemen to read such things.

- Why not, pray?
- Elinor dear.

- They are intended for our sex only.
- John is trying to attract your attention.

Oh, nonsense!

The differentiation of sex
has nothing whatever to do with it.

Yes, Mama?

Well, now, who would care for a game of whist?
Elinor?

If you wish it, Cousin Fanny,
but I'm quite happy as I am.

- Marianne?
- I will not play, thank you.

I always find cards rather a poor substitute
for intelligent conversation.

- Edward?
- Oh, I'm no good at intelligent conversation.

I'm for cards every time.

Good! Splendid.

Well, now, perhaps Edward and Elinor
would be content to play two-handed, eh?

Elinor dear?

If Mr. Ferrars would not find that too tedious,
yes, of course, Mama.

Tedious? Indeed no.

I should like it of all things.

Now, shall we play whist
or shall we play something else?

Well, then, we shall leave them
to their game, shall we?

John dear, be so good as to ring for a lamp.

Yes.

How dark it is getting in the evenings,
is it not?

We shall have to have a fire very soon,
no doubt.

(Marianne) I see he's quite made you
his confidante, sister.

I do not attempt to deny
that I have come to think very highly of him,

that I like and, indeed, greatly esteem him.

Like? Esteem him?

Oh, cold-hearted Elinor!

Nay, worse than cold-hearted!
Ashamed of being otherwise!

Use such language again,
and I shall leave the room immediately.

Dear Marianne.

I meant no offense to you
in speaking so quietly of my feelings.

Well, believe me,
they are stronger than I have stated.

But I feel at this stage that it would
be premature, even a little immodest,

to disclose them too fully even to myself.

Well, if you're not already engaged,
I'm pretty certain you soon will be.

Dear Marianne! I really must ask you
to curb that eager imagination of yours.

Oh, fie, Elinor! He's at least
as partial to you as you are to him.

Go on, Elinor, admit it.

Well, sometimes I think so, yes.

Then at others there's a kind of coolness.

No, not a coolness. A reserve.

A... a want of candor, almost,
that disturbs me a little.

It is not like him.

No, perhaps I do him an injustice.
It is my imagination, no doubt.

But how can you bear the thought
of leaving Norland now?

I almost hope Mama's letter
remains unanswered.

Why? The situation is unaltered.

Oh, Elinor! How can you pretend such a thing?

What I mean is that if Edward's feelings will not
survive my mere removal to another district,

then the sooner that I am acquainted
with the fact, the better.

A cottage, you say?
And where is it situated?

Near Exeter on the estate
of a kinsman of mine, Sir John Middleton.

Sir John Middleton! Now, he is a man
of considerable substance, I believe.

So I believe.

I was not aware
that he was a kinsman of yours.

You would do well to place yourself under
his protection, I would say, very well indeed.

But Devonshire is a great way off.
Must you really go so far?

- (Mrs. Dashwood) I'm afraid so.
- Oh, dear.

If you are thinking of the expense
of the removal, my love,

I'm sure a man in Sir John Middleton's position
would be prepared to assist.

We have no spare transport or labor here,
as I expect you realize.

(Mrs. Dashwood) Of course.
I wouldn't hear of such a thing.

But I hope
once we're properly settled at Barton,

we could persuade you to pay us a visit.

Oh, that's very civil of you, I'm sure,

though I am afraid
we shall not be in a position

to make such long and costly journeys
ourselves for a considerable time to come.

Yes, we shall have to measure our expenses
very carefully. Very carefully indeed.

Edward, then.

I'm sure that the girls will be quite heartbroken
if you are not our very first guest.

Thank you, Mrs. Dashwood.

I'm only sorry that you're going so far.
However I shall be very glad...

Edward, I am afraid, is not free, ma'am.
He has his career to think of.

Indeed.

This is news.

I was not aware that I had one.

Mother and Fanny are obsessed with the notion
that I should enter Parliament, Mrs. Dashwood,

regardless of the fact
that I am quite incapable of...

making a speech, to save my life.

They would make me a man of consequence.

Or at least have me drive around London
in a barouche with the appearance of one.

I hope, Edward, your poor mother
never gets to hear of such a statement.

She will not, Fanny dear,
unless someone repeats it to her.

Well, then, it only remains
for me to say once again

that we shall expect you at Barton
in the very near future, Edward.

And to thank you, my dears,
for putting up with us at Norland for so long.

When he comes, I shall leave you.

Why? He will want to say goodbye to you
as well as to me.

- (Door opens)
- (Footsteps)

Oh, just these two, please, Charles.
We'll have them inside, I think, if there's room.

Ah, here you are. Good.
Now I can say my farewells to you both.

Adieu, dear Edward. I shall not say farewell.

- Oh, don't run away.
- No, please. I'm sorry. There's something...

I think perhaps we should all go.
Edward and I will come with you.

It's time we were in the carriage
if we're to reach Midhurst by midday.

Then I shall follow you in a moment.

Will you not come too?

Please, Edward.

Can you not see that I wish to be alone?

Dear Norland.

Farewell.

Sweet garden.

Goodbye, curtains.

Oh, happy, happy house!

(Mrs. Dashwood) Marianne!
The horses are getting restive.

Marianne!

Oh.

Welcome to Barton Cottage,
ma'am, and young ladies.

Thank you. Mary, isn't it?

That's right, ma'am.

Oh, what a beautiful fire!

Oh, goodness, what a welcome sight!
I'm quite frozen.

Well, now.

There's nothing like a good fire.
That's what I always say.

But there, you'd like some nice tea, I expect.

Oh, thank you. Thank you.

And I've taken the liberty
of making you one of my lardy cakes.

Indeed? How kind.

Sir John, he always says, "Mary," he says,

"there isn't anyone could make
a lardy what like you can."

That's what he says. Look.

Well, now.
You'd like to take your things off, I expect.

Thank you.

Thank you, Mary.

Thank you.

Oh.

(Door shuts)

Well, what in heaven's name
is a lardy cake?

Marianne, you're very silent.

Poor dear, the motion of traveling
never did agree with you.

Never mind, a hot cup of tea'll
soon settle you, no doubt.

It's all right, Mama, I'm not distressed
in body, merely in spirit.

Marianne, you shouldn't think so much
of what we've left behind as what lies ahead.

Elinor, how can you say that
when we've left all that is most dear?

If I do not weep, it is merely for the good
reason that weeping will not help our case.

Besides, we have much to be thankful for,
Mama, have we not?

Oh, yes, indeed, my love.

A new life, new surroundings,
new acquaintances.

New acquaintances? In Devonshire?

Why not?

Devonshire is peopled
surely much in the same manner as Sussex.

And the Middletons
have been most cordial in their letters.

Well, they've lived here for generations.

I am sure they are quite a numerous circle.

- (Sir John) Well, Mary, my dear!
- Oh, I think I hear Sir John. Quick.

Oh, no.

- In the sitting room?
- That's right.

Well, well! Cousin Dashwood, eh?

Welcome to Devonshire, my dears!

Well, now, do I get a kiss? Mm!

John dear, Mrs. Dashwood is probably fatigued
after her long journey.

Oh, nonsense! You ain't fatigued, are you,
my dear? Ooh, I should have introduced you.

- This is my wife, Lady Middleton.
- How do you do?

- John dear, what has become of little William?
- Oh, that boy. He's a regular rascal.

He'll be all right, I expect, my dear.
These are the two young ladies, eh?

Yes, may I introduce Miss Dashwood.
Miss Marianne.

Er... Lady Middleton. Sir John.

Oh, how do you do, my dears? How do you do?

Well, gracious me!

I was hardly expecting to see two
such fine young creatures. No, indeed not.

I can see all the gentlemen are going
to be set by the ears now, my love, eh?

(Chickens clucking)

Just one moment.

I thought I heard something.

- (Chickens clucking)
- There, I knew it.

He's in the yard. He will get his feet wet.

Leave the boy alone, my dear.
He'll come to no harm.

John, how can you say that
when you know how delicate the boy is?

Well, we must conclude our business briefly
and be off home.

Now, our object in greeting you, cousins,

was to extend a most hearty welcome

to come and dine with us at the hall
every day until you're well settled in.

- There, how's that, then?
- Sir John, you are too generous.

Oh, nonsense, nonsense! We won't
take no for an answer. Will we, dear?

Well, now, that's all arranged.
The carriage will call for you at 3:30.

Oh! You will excuse the smallness
of the company at such short notice.

Merely my old friend Colonel Brandon
and my wife's mother.

No young gallants, I'm afraid, my dears,

but we old 'uns will do our best
to give you a jolly evening in our own style.

- Are we leaving?
- Yeah, well, come on, my dear.

Mustn't keep these good people
about any longer.

I think you fret about that boy
a little too much, my dear.

- Bye-bye, ladies, then.
- (Door shuts)

Oh, lovely!

Simply lovely!

- (Plays solemn chord)
- Shh!

Brandon, another glass of claret.

- Come on, Colonel, you've only had the one.
- (Marianne singing)

What? Oh, is it?

Oh, right you are, then.

Righty-ho.

Sorry.

Mrs. Dashwood.
May I come and sit down here?

Oh, Mrs. Jennings.

(Chuckles) You certainly have some fine girls,
Mrs. Dashwood.

Ain't you proud, eh?

That's very kind of you, Mrs. Jennings.

Mama, shh.

Two lovely girls, and I should know,
because I have two fine girls myself.

There's Mary here,

and another, younger
but also married, thank goodness.

(Chuckles) Ooh, the relief!

And they both have done remarkably well
for themselves, I do assure you.

Oh, the anxiety we poor mothers
have to undergo, eh, Mrs. Dashwood?

- Bravo! Thank you, Miss Dashwood.
- Lovely.

Oh, bravo, my dear! Encore, encore, encore!

Now, may we have the one
about the fellow with the harp?

You know, what a lovely piece!

- You know the one I mean, a lovely song.
- That's what I've just sung, Sir John.

Is it, my dear? Well, sing him again, then.
Sing him again.

- That was beautifully sung.
- Look, Colonel Brandon.

(Gasps) I declare, he's quite taken a fancy
to your Miss Marianne already.

Oh, I always know. You ask either of my girls.
You can't deceive me.

And I can assure you, Mrs. Dashwood, you'd do
very well to get the Colonel as a son-in-law.

- Oh, really, Mrs. Jennings.
- He's a very fine, honorable man.

A shade too solemn for my taste, of course,

and hardly what you could call
a young man these days.

But there's property there, Mrs. Dashwood.
Oh, there's property there all right.

- Please, Mama.
- Very well, dear.

- If you would excuse us, Lady Middleton.
- (Sir John) Oh, but you're not going?

- What a disappointment!
- We cannot allow this, Brandon!

- We're having such a wonderful time.
- We're rather fatigued.

- Oh, very well, if you must.
- They must be exhausted.

Now, tomorrow night, I think
I can promise you some real young company.

Oh, tomorrow night we'll have a right old to-do
with all the neighborhood, eh?

- Your singing was lovely, dear.
- Goodbye, Mrs. Jennings.

Good night, my dear. A little bird tells me
that someone's left her heart in Sussex.

Is that not so, eh? (Laughs)

I think I see someone coloring up a little,
do I not?

- Do you, Mrs. Jennings?
- I think not, madam.

Blushing is not one of my sister's
many accomplishments.

Oh, there, now! That's me
thoroughly put in my place, is it not?

Well said, my dear.

Oh, well, I suppose we must let 'em go.

Till tomorrow, then. And come early, mind.

(Mrs. Jennings chuckles) Lovely girls.

Simply wonderful
to have young people in the house.

- Darling, are you going out?
- Yes, soon as the rain eases a little.

You know, do you not, my love,

that Sir John spoke of walking down later
with Colonel Brandon?

Yes, I do, and that, to be quite honest,
is one of the reasons for my walk.

Oh, Marianne, how unkind
you sometimes are in your judgments.

I know Sir John may be a little overpowering
but even you must admit he has a kind heart.

Oh, Mama!

Well, if that's not damning
with faint praise...

Well, Colonel Brandon, then.
He seems a genuine sort of man.

And serious enough even for you, my love.

Mrs. Jennings likes to laugh at him.

Now, that's what I call really unkind,
to make sport of a man of his age.

- He can't help his years, poor fellow.
- My dear girl.

You speak of him
as though he were an old man.

Well, so he is.

Oh, my dearest girl, he cannot be
more than 35 or 36 at the most.

Oh, I'm not so concerned with mere years.

But did you not notice that he spoke of nothing
but rheumatism and flannel lined waistcoats?

Well, I mean, that to me is old age.

Oh, but let us not speak of the Colonel.

It's Edward's strange behavior
that fills me so with apprehension.

Still no letter this morning.

It's not so very long since we were at Norland.

Not long? You call two whole weeks not long?

Really, much as I like Edward,
there's a dreadful want of ardor about him

that would not suit me at all, I'm afraid.

Poor Elinor.

She puts a brave face on it
but I can see that underneath it she suffers.

Come, Marianne, if we are to go walking then
I think we should do so before it rains again.

Yes, let us, by all means!

Oh, Elinor!

What a subject for your pencil!

Elinor?

Oh, I think I felt a spot of rain.

If only there was something picturesque
here in the foreground.

An ivy-clad ruin or something.

There. Do you not see it in your mind's eye?

I felt another. It is, it's raining.

Oh, pooh. It's nothing. It'll pass.

Yes, and in the meantime
this dress will be ruined.

All right.
Let's shelter for a moment under that tree.

Come on.

Oh, Marianne!

Oh, is there a sensation more splendid?
Come on!

- Marianne, be careful!
- Ow!

What have you done? Are you all right?

My ankle.

- I've twisted my ankle.
- Keep still. Let me take your shoe.

- Is she much hurt?
- Sir!

I saw you running down the hill
then I heard a cry.

No, really, I'm quite all right, thank you.

- It's no good, you cannot...
- That won't do at all. Come along now.

- Oh, please!
- Allow me, please.

Oh, sir, can you? Is she not too heavy?

Heavy? No, she's as light as a feather.

- Oh, your gun.
- Leave that. It'll come to no harm.

But won't it get rusty?

In here on the sofa, if you please.

- Here?
- Yes.

- There.
- Ow.

- I'm sorry.
- It's all right.

- There we are, then, safe at last.
- Oh, poor soul.

She might have dashed her brains out.

Some water, please, Mary,
and some strips of rag for a cold compress.

Very well, ma'am.

- Sir, I don't know how to thank you enough.
- Oh, yes, thank you.

And a thousand apologies for my foolishness.

No apologies required, I can assure you.

But, please, no more running down hills
unless you're certain that I am in attendance.

(Chuckles)

Oh, but you cannot go like this, sir,
without our having thanked you properly.

Well, I must. Besides,
I'm in no fit state to be amongst ladies.

Oh, thank you.

- His name, Mama.
- Yes, dear.

At least, sir, perhaps you will tell us
to whom we are so much indebted?

Oh, of course. I'm sorry.
My name is Willoughby, ma'am.

And you may find me, for the next few weeks
at least, down at Allenham House

which is a mile or so along the road.

But I hope you will permit me
to call again tomorrow

to make my inquiries after the invalid.

You will always be more than welcome here,
sir, I can assure you.

Thank you.

- Mr. Willoughby.
- Good day.

I came merely to make my inquiries
after the invalid.

The invalid, as you see,
is an invalid no longer.

No, no, no, please,
not too rapid a recovery, I beg of you.

I've made it my intention to ride by
every day, with your permission.

So long as your health is a matter of anxiety,
permit me a few aches and pains, please.

Oh, well, as you wish.

If you will excuse me, there are several things
I've promised to do for my mother.

Elinor, don't go,
just when Mr. Willoughby has come.

Oh, your sister will have many opportunities
to see me again, I'm afraid.

(Willoughby) Never fear.

Willoughby! Oh, yeah, to be sure I know him!

So he's at Allenham, is he?
Oh, this is capital news!

I must ride over
and ask him to join our picnic.

What sort of a young man is he?

Oh, as good a fellow as ever lived,
I can assure you, ma'am.

He's a very decent shot
and you won't find a bolder rider in England.

But what are his pursuits,
his talents, his genius?

Well, upon my soul, I don't know
about his genius, as you call it.

I only know he has
the nicest little pointer bitch as ever lived.

But who is he and where does he come from?

Ah, now, as to that, I can soon tell you.

Allenham is not his, but he will inherit
when the present owner dies, so they say.

And he already has a pretty little estate
up Somerset way, I'm told.

So I can assure you young ladies
he's quite a catch.

Mr. Willoughby need have
no fears of my girls, cousin.

Catching young men, as you call it,
be they never so rich,

is not an employment
to which they have been brought up.

- Thank you, Mama.
- Oh!

But they couldn't do better
than catch young Willoughby, ma'am.

Why, he's one of the best fellows alive,
I can assure you!

Well, last Christmas,
at a little hop we had at the Park,

he danced from eight o'clock till four
in the morning without once sitting down.

Did he? And with spirit, with elegance?

Oh, yeah, and then eight next morning
he was up again and in the saddle.

So that'll show you
the sort of fellow he is, ma'am.

That is how a man should be.

Whatever his occupation, he should pursue it
to the uttermost, without thought of fatigue.

Oh! So that's how it is, eh? That's how it is.

Poor old Brandon.
His nose is quite out of joint already, eh?

I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Sir John.

Isn't Miss Elinor here
going to be allowed a chance

whilst you set your cap at all the men, eh?

That is an expression
I particularly dislike, Sir John.

If its use could ever have been deemed
at all witty, that time has long since passed.

- Marianne dear!
- (Sir John) Oh, so that's it, is it?

Touched thee raw a little, have I, my dear?

(Willoughby) Miss Marianne!

Oh, I didn't know you'd come.

I've come as usual to make my inquiries.

Well, you can see for yourself
how greatly improved I am.

See, I no longer need support.

- I see nothing of the sort.
- (Sighs)

But... but, please,
let your walking stick be me.

Thank you. Thank you indeed.

It seems I... I was
a little too sanguine in my hopes.

That is a very excellent fault.

Colonel Brandon!

You've come to inquire
after my sister, no doubt. How kind.

I have, but I gather that I am forestalled.

Er... she has another visitor, yes.
But let me go and tell her that you're here.

No, no, please, do not disturb her.

- But after you've walked here especially...
- That is no great matter.

Besides, I have a second purpose in calling,

to know if you and your sister would care to
join the excursion Sir John and I have arranged

to my brother-in-law's house, Whitwell,
on Friday.

I'm sure we would both be delighted,
Colonel Brandon.

I'm afraid I can't promise you much
young and lively society, Miss Dashwood.

However, if you or your sister would care
to extend the invitation to Willoughby,

please feel free to do so.

- To Willoughby? You know him, then?
- Yes, I know him.

In that case, why not ask him yourself?

No, I should prefer that
either your sister or yourself should do so.

Very well, Colonel Brandon,
if that is your feeling.

- Thank you. I'm greatly obliged to you.
- Not at all.

Well, I...

If you will not join my sister in the garden,
will you not sit here for a moment?

That's very kind, but I mustn't detain you.

However, I must confess that I did hope for the
opportunity to speak to you, Miss Dashwood.

To me?

Er... your sister is a person
of very strong and fixed ideas, I think.

Oh, dear. What has she been saying now?

She doesn't approve of such things
as second attachments, I believe?

No, her opinions are all romantic.

So in her eyes all such attachments
are equally false.

She makes no distinction
for those unfortunate people

who may have been disappointed
in their first choice.

It isn't so much that she doesn't
approve of such attachments.

She doesn't admit that they can exist.

Well, to her, love is something
which comes only once in a lifetime.

If you will instruct me
in the art of horsemanship,

then I will return the compliment, if I may,
by educating you in your taste for literature.

Well, Miss Marianne,

I am an open book.

Write upon it what you will.

You must not take too much notice of her,
Colonel Brandon.

Her ideas are extremely romantic
and she is, of course, very young.

There is something very affecting about
the prejudices of a young mind, I always think.

My sister's enthusiasms
are indeed rather strong.

I fear they sometimes have the unfortunate
appearance of setting propriety at naught.

But a better acquaintance
with the world at large

will, I hope, bring about some modification.

One can only hope and pray that they do not
receive too sudden and too cruel a setback.

Indeed.

For when the romantic refinements of
a young mind at last are obliged to give way,

then is the danger.

No, no, no, I insist.

Nobody who is unfamiliar
with the poems of Cowper

can possibly claim to have
a properly educated mind.

Come, come, Miss Marianne.
You're very hard on a fellow.

I have his complete works.

I shall lend them to you volume by volume

and insist that you read them,
every line, from cover to cover.

Well, it'll be a labor of love,
I can assure you.

Pray don't move.

I came merely to tell you that
Colonel Brandon has invited us all to a picnic

at Whitwell on Friday.

- Is it not kind of him?
- Brandon? Has he been here?

Invited us all? Does that include Willoughby?

Oh, he particularly mentioned Mr. Willoughby,
yes, if he would care to come.

Oh, you will come, won't you?

Well, since you ask me,
Miss Marianne, indeed I will.

I think it extremely civil of the Colonel.

He inquired particularly after you, Marianne.

- Hm.
- (Elinor) He's a good-hearted man.

"Poor old Brandon."
That's what everyone says of him.

He has everybody's good word
and nobody's notice.

He's the kind of man
whom everybody's delighted to see

- and nobody remembers to talk to.
- That is exactly what I think.

On the contrary,
I particularly enjoy talking to him.

He's seen much of the world
and he has a thinking mind.

- That must always be an attraction to me.
- Well...

Yes, Marianne,
even in a man of between 30 and 40.

Miss Marianne, I see your sister
is in a saucy mood and spoiling for a fight.

So I shall retire while I yet may.

Well, goodbye, then, ladies, until Friday.

Goodbye.

(Elinor) Goodbye, Mr. Willoughby.

Well, Marianne, you've tried him
on Pope, Cowper and Sir Walter Scott.

I think for one morning
you've done pretty well.

You must admit that he has great enthusiasm.

Oh, yes, and that he's very handsome.

Oh, Elinor, he's promised to give me a horse
so that we may ride together.

A horse? You didn't say
you would accept it, I hope?

Well, why not? Oh, the added expense
of a groom will be a mere trifle.

Oh, Elinor, think of it.
Galloping over those splendid downs.

- You shall share it with me.
- Thank you.

But I must say, I seriously question
the propriety of such a present

from a man you hardly know.

You're mistaken, Elinor dear,
in thinking I know little of Willoughby.

Our acquaintance has not been long,
I grant you,

but days and hours have nothing to do with it.

Oh, Elinor,
if only you could hear a word of Edward,

my cup of happiness would indeed be full.

Are we all ready, then?
The horses'll be around in a moment.

- Where is little William?
- How are we getting on?

Husband, have you seen him?

I expect he'll be all right, my dear.
Now, then, who's coming with us, eh?

Oh, dear. I only hope that girl
didn't give him too rich a breakfast.

A long carriage journey
always makes him so unwell, poor lamb.

Miss Dashwood,
you will come in with us, I hope?

Wouldn't you rather have
one of your own family, madam?

- Certainly not. We'd be delighted.
- My dears!

Mr. Willoughby has been most adroit, I see.

He's brought along his phaeton
with room for one passenger only.

I think we need not ask who that will be, hey?

Come along!

- Here come the horses! Come along!
- One moment, please.

Oh, come along, Brandon.
I didn't see you over there. Come along.

I'm sorry. I'm afraid our excursion
will have to be canceled.

- Canceled?
- I have to return to London immediately.

- What, today?
- Yes, today, I'm afraid. Excuse me.

Oh, my dear!
I'll never survive the disappointment.

That is typical of the man.

There are some people who cannot bear
the prospect of a day's pleasure.

No doubt he's fearful
of catching cold or something.

But this is infuriating.

Shh. He won't spoil our day together.

I've got a plan of my own.

Come on.

- I know what the Colonel's business is.
- Mrs. Jennings, I...

It concerns a certain young lady in London,
a very near relative.

- I...
- They do say she's his natural daughter.

- Mrs. Jennings...
- Hello! What's this, then, eh?

Our young friends have gone off
without waiting for the starter's gun.

- That's capital! That's the spirit I like to see.
- I knew there was romance in the air.

Yoiks! Yoiks!

Tally-ho! Tally-ho!

Oh, Mary, such a disappointment.
There was no picnic after all.

So I've heard, ma'am.

Such a shame.

You knew, then?

Oh, yes, miss. I had it from Miss Marianne
and the young gentleman.

- They're here?
- Mr. Willoughby?

Oh, yes, ma'am.

They've been home here an hour or more.
Would you like me to get the tea things?

Oh, yes, thank you, Mary. If you would.

Oh, dear. How dreadfully unwise she is.

Yes, Elinor, my dear.
It was not really prudent, I grant you.

But I cannot believe that dear Marianne,
or Willoughby either, for that matter,

would ever do anything that was not right.

- We have a visitor, I understand?
- Please, Mama.

- Marianne?
- Mother, leave her.

(Door slams)

Mr. Willoughby?

What is the matter? Is she ill?

I think not, Mrs. Dashwood,
merely upset and disappointed.

But no more so than I am.

- I have to return at once to London.
- Oh!

This morning
it was Colonel Brandon and now you.

This dashing to London
has become quite an epidemic.

When the picnic party
was canceled this morning,

I decided to take Marianne
and show her Allenham House

which as you probably know
will one day be my property.

You mean without the knowledge
and consent of the present owner?

Was that wise?

Well, in the event, it was not,

because my elderly kinswoman
who owns the property

decided to exercise the privilege of riches
over a poor dependent

by dispatching me instantly to London
on urgent business.

I am to leave immediately.

When do you return?

Well, my invitations to Allenham
are somewhat infrequent.

I shall not be in this neighborhood
for another 12 month, I'm afraid.

Not for a year?

No, I'm afraid not, madam.

But is Allenham the only house in the district
where you may stay?

Oh, for shame, Mr. Willoughby.

You will always be more than welcome
at Barton Cottage. You know that.

Yes. You are too good, madam.

But my engagements at the moment
are of such a nature that...

...I think perhaps
it would be unwise to commit myself.

Very well, Mr. Willoughby.

I will leave it entirely
to your own good judgment, of course.

Well, it is folly to linger in this manner.

I shall not torment myself further

by remaining among friends
whose company I can no longer enjoy.

- Goodbye, madam.
- Goodbye.

Miss Dashwood.

Poor Marianne.

(Birdsong)

She looks so pale, poor darling.

Yet already I fancy she is
a little better, perhaps.

Only yesterday she offered
to help me count the washing.

I hope you let her, Mama.

It is simple practical employment
she most needs.

The worst thing in the world for her is that
she should sit there and dwell upon the past,

listening for someone
whom she knows in her heart will not come.

However little she wants my company,
I must go to her.

(Birdsong)

- Are you not cold, sitting there?
- No, thank you.

These sweet williams have come on well,
have they not?

I really must find some time
to remove some of these dead blooms.

Well, perhaps you'd be good enough
to help me sometime.

Yes, of course I will.

- There's so much tidying up to do...
- (Horse galloping)

Shh! Just a moment.

- Why, what is the matter?
- I thought I heard a horse.

- Oh, Marianne!
- Yes, can't you hear it? It's he, it must be.

It's much more likely to be Sir John
or someone from Barton Park.

But he always comes on foot or on a dog cart.

Why should...

Oh.

- Mr. Ferrars.
- Edward.

Forgive me for calling upon you
unannounced in this fashion

but I happened to be traveling
in the neighborhood.

- Have you been away from Sussex long?
- Not long.

I've been here in Devon
this last fortnight only, to be exact.

Oh! You have been in Devonshire a fortnight
and have only just come to see us?

Shame upon you.

Marianne, the poor man is quite free
to have other acquaintances, is he not?

No, he is not.

None that take precedence over us, anyhow.

Never mind, Edward, we will forgive you.

The main thing is that you're here,

and now that we've got you,
how long may we keep you?

Well, if I might beg
board and lodging for tonight.

Tomorrow I have to be on my way
back to Sussex again, I'm afraid.

For one night only?
But I thought at least a week.

However, we must count ourselves lucky
that we have you at all, I suppose.

Well, if... if you will both forgive me,

I will go and see to my cob.

- Another cup of tea, Edward?
- Er... no, thank you, Mrs. Dashwood.

Take Edward's cup, one of you.

- I will.
- Thank you.

- I never saw you wear a ring before, Edward!
- Oh, did you not?

- May I see?
- Oh, Marianne dear.

Is that your sister's hair?
I'd have thought it was a lot darker.

It depends upon the light.

It's very handsome.

And what are your mother's views for you
at present, Edward?

Are you still to be a great orator
in spite of yourself?

No. I hope my mother is now convinced
that I have no talent for a public life

and that I am by nature
an idle, helpless sort of a fellow.

Do not decry yourself, Edward.
It's a form of vanity.

Take no notice of her, Edward.

In any case, we can never agree
on a choice of profession.

I would have preferred the Church
but this was not smart enough for my family.

Oh!

They would have me enter the law at least,

and be one of those fine young men
who drive around town in knowing gigs.

But I have no ambition
but to be happy in my own way.

Oh, quite right, Edward.

What are wealth and grandeur
to do with happiness?

Grandeur has but little, I grant you,
but wealth, I'm afraid, has.

Oh, Elinor, for shame! Wealth can give nothing.

A mere competence
is all one needs for true happiness.

Perhaps your competence and my wealth
are one and the same thing.

Come now, what is your idea of a competence?

I could manage very well,
I think, on about 1,800 or 2,000 a year.

Two thousand?

- Oh, my darling.
- Two thousand is only a moderate income.

And a proper establishment of servants,
a carriage or two, and hunters,

cannot be supported on less, I fancy.

Why hunters? Everyone does not hunt.

No. But many do.

Let us hope that you are both
suddenly left a large fortune.

Yes, indeed.

Though where it is to come from,
I'm afraid I do not know.

But then what magnificent orders
would travel from Barton to London.

What a happy day for the booksellers
and print shops, eh, Elinor?

And as for Marianne,
I know her greatness of soul.

She would buy up every copy
of her favorite authors

- to prevent them falling into unworthy hands.
- Oh, yes.

How well you know her, Edward.

I'm sorry if I am saucy, but I wanted to show
you that I had not forgot our old disputes.

I love to be reminded of the past, Edward.

You'll never offend me
by talking of former times.

Or perhaps you would bestow an award
for the ablest defense of your favorite maxim,

that nobody can ever be in love
more than once in their life.

For your opinion on that point
is unchanged, I presume?

Most certainly. And I'm more than ever sure
that nothing now will change it.

Marianne is much as before, you see.
She is not at all altered.

No?

A little graver, more solemn, perhaps,
as becomes her advancing years.

Nay, Edward, you need not reproach me.

When you first arrived this morning,
your own manner was hardly of the gayest.

Marianne, I wish you would not
make such personal remarks.

You need not defend me, ma'am.
I can look after myself, I think.

Well said, Edward.

But you are right.
Gaiety was never part of my character.

(Sighs)

The truth is I am so foolishly shy
that I often seem negligent

when in reality I'm only kept back
by a kind of awkwardness.

(Sighs) In fact, I frequently think that I must
be intended by nature for low company.

I am so little at ease
among people of gentility.

There are times when I share your aversion.

But Marianne hasn't shyness to excuse her.

No, indeed. She knows her worth too well
for false modesty.

Shyness is the effect
of a sense of inferiority.

If I could only convince myself that my...
manners were perfectly easy and graceful,

I should not be shy.

Yes, but you'd still be reserved,
which is worse.

I? Reserved? Marianne, you cannot mean it.

You are. Very.

Reserved? In what way? What am I
supposed to have withheld from you?

- Edward!
- (Knock at door)

Marianne calls everyone reserved
who doesn't talk as much as herself

or go into fine raptures
at the slightest provocation.

No, indeed I do not!

- (Sir John) How merry, my dears!
- One moment, my dears.

(Sir John) Oh, good...

- Sir John Middleton, our neighbor.
- Oh, not come round here?

- Are the Middletons pleasant people?
- Oh, no, not at all.

- (Chatter next door)
- Oh, Marianne, how can you be so unjust?

You're always welcome, sir.
As you see, we have a visitor.

I was aware of that, ma'am,
and that was partly the object of my call.

You knew of his coming, Sir John?
Then you knew more than we did.

Ah, news travels fast in these parts,
Miss Marianne. You'd be surprised.

May I introduce Mr. Edward Ferrars,
Sir John Middleton.

- Sir.
- Delighted, my boy, delighted!

Well, you're not the only ones
to have visitors,

for we have my wife's sister, Charlotte Palmer,
and her husband with us,

not to mention a number
of other young people arriving tomorrow,

and we thought it a splendid opportunity
to give a little dance.

Oh, just a few of our closest friends,
and that means all at Barton College,

including this young gentleman, of course.

How kind, Sir John. Eh, girls?

You'll have to leave me out of your reckoning.
I have to move on early tomorrow morning.

Oh, come, sir. This will not do. Cannot you
postpone your departure until another day?

I'm afraid not, Sir John. I have business which
makes it absolutely necessary for me to leave,

much as I should prefer not to.

- Have you no influence upon him?
- None, I'm afraid, Sir John.

Oh! Very well, then.

Well, we shall be confoundedly
short of young men, by the looks of it.

I wish with all my heart
young Willoughby was still here.

Why, he's as good as half a dozen
fellows in himself, is he not?

And who is Willoughby?

I think a certain young lady of my acquaintance
would agree with me there, eh?

- Mr. Willoughby, I suspect, hunts. Am I right?
- You are quite right.

Well, now, I must be on my way.
I've others to call upon.

If you should change your mind,
young fellow, you'll be more than welcome.

- Thank you, sir.
- Goodbye, ladies.

Well said, Edward!

I'm sure we don't want to lose you, but I was
so glad to hear you stick to your guns.

Really, the rent of this cottage
is said to be low.

Well, we have it on very hard terms,

if we have to dine at the Park every time there
is anybody staying either with them or with us.

(Chatter)

Delightful! Delightful!

- And you'll meet them both tonight.
- Oh, how nice.

There they are!

Lovely to see you here tonight. Come along,
come along, my dears. That's right. Now...

Oh, you must meet my younger daughter and
her husband, Mrs. and Mrs. Palmer from London.

Charlotte dear!

This is Miss Dashwood!
Miss Marianne Dashwood.

How do you do? I'm so glad you've come. It's
such a shocking day, I was afraid you might not.

And dear Mama has been telling me
so much about you both, haven't you, Mama?

(Both laugh)

Charlie dear, I really think
you should not stand any more.

She expects to be confined
soon after Christmas.

Oh, Mama! I should I hope they don't imagine
my figure is usually this shape!

Isn't she wonderful?

Oh, well, shall we take the sofa?

- May I sit between you?
- Please do.

If there's room, eh?

Oh, there we are, then.

- Oh, I'm so sorry.
- I beg your pardon.

Mr. Palmer and I were hoping we might see
something of you both in London this winter.

- Were we not, Mr. Palmer?
- (Elinor) In London?

What gave you the notion
we might be going to London, Mrs. Palmer?

Oh, don't call me that. Call me Charlotte.

And I will call you Elinor
and you Marianne, if I may.

Please do.

Oh, you must come to London. Everybody does.

I shall be quite heartbroken if you do not.

And so will Mr. Palmer, won't you, my love?

(Mrs. Palmer giggles)

Mr. Palmer is so droll.
He never hears a word I say.

Mr. Palmer!

I was just telling the Miss Dashwoods

that they positively must come to London
this winter, must they not?

Must they, my love? Why?

(Giggles) Oh, do listen to him!

He comes out with the most unexpected
remarks, one cannot help but laugh. Ha-ha-ha!

Well, Marianne, my dear,

you won't have been able to take your usual
walk to Allenham today, what a shame!

To Allenham, Mrs. Jennings?
Why should I go to Allenham?

Oh, you sly thing.
You need not pretend before us.

And I admire your taste very much,
I do assure you.

For the gentleman in question
is a near neighbor of ours in the country.

- Do you live in Somerset?
- Oh, when we're not in London, yes!

Not above ten miles from
the gentleman's estate, are we, my love?

Thirty, to be precise.

Ten, thirty. What's the difference?

The difference is thirty miles, my love.

(Giggles) Oh, Mr. Palmer is so droll.
He's always out of humor.

Oh! Ah, come on!
Well, well, well! What's all this, then?

All you young ladies not dancing?

How's that, then, eh? Well, we can't have this,
you know. We cannot have this.

- We're quite content, thank you, Sir John.
- Miss Marianne.

In the absence of a certain gentleman
who shall be nameless, may I have the honor?

Oh, Sir John, I was hoping
perhaps I might be let off this evening.

- Oh!
- Marianne, how can you be so ill-mannered?

Thank you, Sir John. My sister
will be very pleased to dance, I'm sure.

- Very well.
- Splendid! We'll show them a thing or two!

It isn't often I get the chance to jig it
with the prettiest girl in the room.

Ladies, lead your partners.

You know, Sir John has
such a tremendous sense of fun, has he not?

You know, Mr. Palmer will not allow it,

but then Mr. Palmer loves to be contrary
especially where his wife is concerned!

Mary.

Ah, I've found you at last, Miss Dashwood.

May I introduce you to the Miss Steeles,
who are particularly anxious to meet you.

- To meet me, Lady Middleton?
- Yes, excuse me, Charlotte.

Oh.

Miss Steele.

Miss Lucy Steele.

- Miss Dashwood.
- How do you do?

Oh, delighted to meet you, Miss Dashwood.
We have heard so much about you.

- Haven't we, Lucy?
- Oh, yes, to be sure.

About me, Miss Steele? From whom?

- A certain person. Can you not guess?
- I'm afraid I have no idea.

The Miss Steeles have made the greatest
impression upon my little William.

Do you know, I've never seen him
take quite such a liking to anyone before.

- Have you seen little William?
- Yes.

Is he not the sweetest thing
in the whole world?

Perhaps Miss Dashwood doesn't share
your partiality for children, sister.

Oh, I just dote upon them,
especially little boys.

Do you know, he would not go to sleep until
she had been up to wish him good night?

I thought he would quite tumble your hair
with his playfulness.

(Chuckles) He's just full of mischief.
A proper little boy.

I declare, he quite hurt me here.
Look, where he bruised me wrist.

But there, I love to see a child
full of spirits. Don't you?

Oh... yes. I cannot bear it
if they are tame and quiet.

Well, to be quite honest,
while I'm at Barton Park

I never think of tame and quiet children
with any great abhorrence.

Well, now, you should be dancing.

To whom would you like me to introduce you?

Oh, I don't know, really I don't.

I said to Lucy as we come in, "I declare,
I don't know when I've seen so many smart..."

- Come on, my dears, come on!
- John...

(Chatter)

How enchanting!

(Laughter)

Oh, my dear!

Miss Dashwood, I think we have a certain
acquaintance in common, have we not?

Have we, Miss Steele?
If so, I was not aware of it.

A certain Mr. Edward Ferrars.

Oh.

- You know Mr. Edward Ferrars?
- Oh, Lord, Miss Dashwood, I should do.

He was for four years a pupil at my uncle's
tutorial establishment near Plymouth.

- Did you not know?
- I knew that he'd been educated by a tutor.

Oh, Edward, he's a great favorite in
our household, I can tell you, Miss Dashwood.

We all delight in his company.

He was with us again,
as a matter of fact, quite recently.

- He was with you?
- Oh, yes.

For two weeks.

He comes back regularly.

Has he not told you? How odd.

Perhaps he didn't consider it
of sufficient importance.

I am not aware of all his movements, of course.

But did he not call upon you, on his way home?

Oh, but perhaps he had not sufficient time.
I feel sure he would have done so otherwise.

Do you know his mother, Miss Dashwood?
She sounds a real Tartar.

He's greatly in awe of her, poor fellow,

because, if you ask me,
she holds the purse strings.

- Indeed.
- Now, now, now!

We simply cannot allow you two young ladies
to hide yourselves away like this, now, can we?

Elinor dear! Oh, Elinor!

Ooh! I do believe you're sulking
because a certain person is not here.

Eh? Is that not so?

We must forgive Miss Dashwood.
Her heart is engaged elsewhere.

Now come along, my dears.

There are a number of very pretty young men
still without partners.

We can continue our conversation tomorrow,
perhaps.

I quite agree that if a certain type of society
is totally disagreeable to one,

then it is perhaps not polite
to make it apparent by one's manner.

- But at the same time, Elinor...
- (Knock at door)

...I consider it dishonest to behave
as though one positively enjoyed it.

Then nobody could have accused you
of dishonesty last night, sister.

Thank you, sister.

Whatever its intention,
I take that remark as a compliment.

Elinor, my dear, there is a young person
at the door who says you are expecting her.

- A Miss Steele.
- Oh, dear.

And I shall go up to my room.

I am sorry, Mama.
She's a guest from Barton Park.

Oh.

Miss Steele. Do please come in.

(Whispers) Thank you.

I am so sorry.
I have not introduced you to my mother.

Oh.

How do you do, ma'am?

- Oh, what a pretty room!
- Oh, do you think so? Thank you.

I declare, it's the prettiest room
that ever I saw. I do really.

Well, I'll leave you two young people
together, then.

I expect you'd like to have a talk.

How young your mother looks, Elinor.

I may call you Elinor, I hope.

And it's plain to see
where you and your sister get your good looks.

- Would you care to sit down?
- Oh, thank you.

Oh, Elinor.

I have been biting my tongue off
for what I told you last night.

About Mr. Ferrars, I mean.

You have not told anyone else, I hope?

No, of course not. What is there to tell?

Oh, thank goodness.

There. I knew you'd be discreet.

I said to myself a hundred times in the night,
"Elinor is not one to talk," I said.

You see, no one in the world knows
of our engagement, except my sister.

Your engagement?

I was afraid you would think I was taking
a great liberty in telling you all this.

We haven't known each other long, to be sure.

But I've heard so much about your family

that I felt almost as though
you was an old acquaintance.

You say that you are engaged
to Mr. Edward Ferrars?

Oh, yes, and have been these four years now.

My sister Nancy is the only other person
besides yourself that knows of it.

And I'm in constant fear that
she will say something unwise up at the Park.

I have trusted you because Mr. Ferrars
has the highest opinion of your family

and looks upon yourself and Miss Marianne
quite as his own sisters.

Oh, I only wonder that I am alive, after what I
have suffered, for Edward's sake, all this time.

(Sniffs) With everything
in such suspense and uncertainty...

(Sighs)... I'm sure if it were not for
his letters, I could not contain myself.

But he's such a faithful correspondent.

I have his most recent letter here,
as a matter of fact.

He has a beautiful, sensitive hand, has he not?

I expect you would recognize it.

He writes very handsomely, certainly.

Edward's love for me has been pretty well put
to the test by our long absences, I must say.

At first I used to worry greatly,

because, I have to confess,
I am of a rather jealous temper by nature.

But I am sure that if he had felt
a particular preference

for any young lady of his acquaintance,

I should know it instantly by his manner.

However, I'm quite happy on that score

because I am quite certain that there is
nobody for whom he has such a feeling.

Quite certain.

That must be a great comfort to you, I am sure.

Oh, it is, I do assure you.

(Giggles) Oh, I had almost forgot
what I had come about.

Did you come about something else
as well, then?

Lady Middleton asked me to say

that you and Miss Marianne are expected
to dine up at the Park tomorrow.

- Again? But, really, we cannot.
- Oh, but you must.

Mr. and Mrs. Palmer are gone home,
and Sir John is to dine in Exeter.

So poor Lady Middleton will be all on her own.

But you and your sister will be there,
surely, and Mrs. Jennings.

That's right,
but there will be no gentlemen present.

So we ladies can chatter away
to our hearts' content.

And you and I have plenty
of private matter for gossip,

have we not, eh, Elinor? (Giggles)

Oh. Well, I must not disturb you any longer.

Er... please convey my kindest regards
to your mother.

But I hope that we shall be meeting often
while we are at Barton.

(Clears throat) Oh.

(Chuckles) Oh. Oh!

Oh, dear. Well, now.

Er... I expect you young people would all like
to play some jolly round game, would you not?

- What's it to be? Cards or Consequences?
- Consequences.

Oh, Mrs. Jennings, Consequences.

In my experience
they always lead to improprieties.

- What improprieties?
- Oh, there. What have I said?

A rubber of Casino, perhaps, Mama?

Er... oh, well, cards, then.

Now, you young ladies,
who will help me with the table?

If you will all excuse me.
You know I detest cards, Lady Middleton.

Um... if I may play the harpsichord.

Marianne cannot keep away
from that instrument.

- It has a perfect tone.
- Indeed.

Now, Miss Lucy! Don't sit all alone over there.
Come over here and join us.

Excuse me, Mrs. Jennings, but I promised
little William that I'd finish his scarf.

I couldn't bear to disappoint him,
the little love.

Oh, there. I told him not to expect it.

But I know the lamb
is secretly counting upon it.

- The dear little boy!
- Are you sure it will not hurt your eyes?

Not the least little bit,
I do assure you, ma'am.

Really? Are you quite sure?

Well, then, we shall be just four at cards.

Excellent.

- I was about to say that...
- (Harpsichord plays)

...perhaps Elinor would be good enough
to help me wind my wool.

But that would leave us
only three at cards, miss.

If you ask me, ma'am, they wish to be together
to chat about their particular beaus,

and we are not to hear, I fancy.

Well, I can answer for it, that Miss Dashwood's
is a very fine young fellow indeed.

Is that not so, Elinor? Ha-ha-ha!

But as for Miss Lucy there,

she's such a sly little creature
I'm sure I don't know where her heart lies.

Well, I do, I assure you.

And I can tell you, in confidence, that her
beau is every bit as smart as Miss Elinor's.

Is he not, Lucy?

Well, if there are only to be three of us
at cards, let us cut to see who is to sit out.

All right, dear.

Elinor? If you would be so kind.

Oh, that sister of mine.

Just let her wait
until we're in our bedroom tonight, that's all.

No, no, please. You two play.

It is of no consequence to me,
I can assure you.

- Oh, please, Lady Middleton...
- (Whispers) No, no.

I'm glad to have this opportunity
of speaking with you,

because since our last little talk together,
my mind has formed a plan

and you, Elinor, are to be part of it.

I? Well, what plan is this?

You probably know, do you not,

that if Edward has any preference
for one profession above another

- it is for the Church.
- I believe that is so, yes.

Well, my idea is that he should take orders
as soon as possible,

and that through your good offices,

your brother might be persuaded
to give him the living of Norland,

and on the strength of that,
we might marry almost at once.

There, is that not a splendid idea?

I wonder I had not thought of it before.

But, Lucy, surely my interest
will not be necessary.

Mrs. Dashwood is his sister.

I would naturally be only too happy
to do anything I could for Mr. Ferrars

and yourself, of course,

but, really, I feel my word
would not make any difference.

Oh, Mrs. John Dashwood would never agree
to his going into the Church.

Surely you realize that.

It doesn't stand nearly high enough
in the social scale for her liking.

And neither, I suspect, do I. Oh!

- Oh!
- Look at how you get it all tangled.

- No, leave it to me!
- I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

(Sighs) Oh, dear.

I sometimes think it would be the wisest thing
to put an end to the whole engagement,

if no one at all is prepared to help us.

I didn't say that.

I only said that my help
should not be necessary.

What would you advise me to do?

Carry on against all opposition,

and follow the dictates of our hearts,

or give in to the wishes of his family?

I would very much like to know
your opinion, Elinor.

Surely the opinion of a... a totally
indifferent person such as myself

is of no great value in a matter like this.

It is because you are totally indifferent,
as you say, that I ask you.

If I thought for one moment
that you had a personal interest of any kind,

your opinion would not be worth having.

However, I see you are unwilling
to give me your advice.

Please forgive me for mentioning it.

I'm sorry to appear unhelpful, but I really
fail to see what I can be expected to do.

- Now... Oh!
- There you are!

Really, Miss Steele!
You're the luckiest creature alive. Ha-ha!

- Elinor, my dear.
- I'm afraid we must go home now.

- Must you go so soon, dear?
- Yes, really, Mrs. Jennings.

Oh, my dear. Look, my dear.

I'm glad of this moment
to speak to you on your own.

I should love above all things

to have you and your sister to come and stay
with me for a while when I go back to London.

- Let me have a word with your mother.
- How exceedingly kind of you, Mrs. Jennings.

- But really...
- Don't fancy you'll be any inconvenience.

For I shan't put myself at all
out of my way for you.

And if when we get to town, you do not
like to go wherever I do, well and good.

Here's Miss Marianne.
Let's see what she has to say about it.

I was just telling your sister here,

how much I should enjoy
the company of you two young ladies

when I return home next week.

- Now, Sir John...
- You mean go with you to London, ma'am?

That's right!

Now, Sir John and my daughter Mary are
returning quite soon, as you probably know,

and the Misses Steele.

And Charlotte and Mr. Palmer
will be there already,

so we shall be the same jolly party
as we've been at Barton!

- But, Mrs. Jennings...
- I know what you're going to say, Elinor dear.

I'm sure your mother
cannot possibly object to the suggestion...

No!

...for I have had such good luck
getting my own two girls off my hands

that she will surely think me the properest
person alive to take charge of.

- I'm sure she will not...
- Now, what does Miss Marianne say?

Thank you, ma'am.
Your invitation is exceedingly kind.

On my own behalf,
I'd like to accept it if I may.

- Marianne.
- Well! Oh, my dear!

Mwah! Oh, that's excellent. Oh, splendid.

Oh, we'll all have such fun together,
shall we not?

Now, if you can but persuade your sister here
that she will be quite safe in my charge...

- It's not that, ma'am.
...I will at once speak to your mother.

Oh, you sweet things. Oh, I'm so delighted.

It'll be like having my own dear daughters
back with me again.

And if you get tired of me, you can talk about
me behind my back and laugh at my odd ways,

and I shan't mind a bit.

I am delighted with the plan.
It is exactly what I could wish.

But, Mama, will you not be lonely?

Me? No, of course not.
Mary will look after me and keep me company.

No, it is very right
that you should go to town.

Every young woman should learn about the
manners of London at some time in her life.

And besides, I have a little scheme
of redecoration for your bedrooms

which can now be performed
without inconvenience.

- So go along, will you?
- Oh, thank you, Mama!

There is still one objection
that in my opinion cannot be removed.

- Oh? And what is that, pray?
- Yes, prudent Elinor?

My objection is this.

Though I think very well
of Mrs. Jennings' heart,

she is not a woman whose constant society
can afford as much pleasure

or whose protection will give us consequence.

That is true, my love, but you will be
much in the company of Lady Middleton.

Is that really so much better?

If... if Elinor has such fine scruples about whom
her companions shall be, then I have not!

I'm sure I can put up with
every inconvenience with very little effort!

Mama, you know
why she's suddenly in favor of this trip.

You mean it is in the hope
of seeing Willoughby again?

Yes, Mama. He has not once written to her
from the day he left, not once.

Poor, poor Marianne.
She has such a warm, impetuous heart.

Yes, and I'm afraid she will suffer for it

because he will only think that she's followed
him to London to force her affections upon him,

which will indeed be quite true.

Then you must look after her
and try to prevent her behaving foolishly.

You always had the wisest head in the family.

(Door closes)

Marianne.

If we are truly to go on this trip to London,
then I think we should first discuss thoroughly...

Yes? What did you want to say?

No matter.

I see that it is already too late.

(Driver mutters)

(Man shouts)

(Laughing) Oh, my dear! Oh!

- Oh, my goodness! Oh!
- There you go.

Come indoors. It's cold.

Oh!

Well! Oh!

Ho-ho! Well, come along in, my dears.
Come along in.

Oh, there. Oh, what a relief
to be out of that carriage.

(Chuckles) Rodgers, we're all quite frozen.

I hope you have good fires everywhere,
especially in the Miss Dashwoods' room.

Oh, yes, ma'am, they've been alight all day.

I expect you're as eager
to get in front of a fire as I am.

Thank you. My feet always suffer most
on these occasions.

- No amount of wrapping will keep them warm.
- Good.

Now let me show you to your room. Oh!

- Oh, we may expect callers soon, I see!
- Callers, Mrs. Jennings?

I'll warrant there's at least
one young gentleman

who won't be slow in presenting himself where
the two Miss Dashwoods are staying, hey?

Oh, don't be alarmed, my dear. I can be quite
deaf upon occasion. You ask my Charlotte.

She will give me an excellent testimonial
as a chaperon. Come along upstairs.

My feet still have no feeling in them at all.

- He's here! He's come!
- Willoughby?

I knew he would.
Oh, I'm certain there's some perfectly...

What is the matter?

It's not he. I thought...

(Brandon) I'll show myself up, thank you.

- Oh, confound it!
- (Elinor) Marianne!

(Door slams)

Colonel Brandon? What a pleasant surprise.

I was told of your coming

so I hoped I would be allowed to extend
to you both a very sincere welcome.

How very kind of you.

We've not seen you since the day you were
obliged to leave Devonshire so suddenly.

- Would you care to sit down?
- No, I won't, thank you. I shall not stay long.

No, that was most unfortunate.

It was indeed. And have you been obliged
to stay in London since?

Yes, ever since, unfortunately.

You do not care for London,
then, Colonel Brandon?

- Your sister is not ill, I hope?
- No.

- No, merely a little fatigued after her journey.
- I'm glad to hear that.

And when may I congratulate you
on the acquisition of a new brother?

What do you mean, Colonel Brandon?

I mean your sister's engagement to Willoughby
is pretty generally known, Miss Dashwood.

It cannot be very generally known
if her own family don't know of it.

Well, then I humbly beg your pardon.

- From whom did you hear this?
- From several people. Mrs. Palmer, principally.

Oh. Charlotte.

You mean that it is not true?

Or more probably, that it is true in essence,
but you are not yet free to admit it publicly.

In which case I owe you a double apology
for my blundering stupidity. Pray forgive me.

Colonel Brandon, don't go.

Let me be quite honest with you.

I know of your concern for my sister.

So I will speak freely
and tell you what little I can.

That she has a regard for Mr. Willoughby
is beyond denying.

And that he returns it is equally obvious.

But on what terms they stand with each other,
I know no more than you do.

And that is the honest truth.

Thank you, Miss Dashwood,
for dealing so openly with me.

To your sister, then,
I wish every imaginable happiness.

To Willoughby
merely that he may attempt to deserve her.

Oh, Colonel Brandon!
I'm monstrous glad to see you.

Pray forgive my not coming down before

but there are a world
of little things to see to on one's return!

Though I fancy I'm not
the chief reason for your visit.

My reason for coming, madam, I almost forgot.

It was to ask you
if I could be of any assistance

in escorting yourself and
the Miss Dashwoods on Wednesday night.

Wednesday night? Oh! And where, pray,
do you propose to escort us?

- To the ball at Lady Mellors.
- Oh?

You are to join Lady Middleton
and Mrs. Palmer's party. Did you not know?

Oh, I have not heard one word of it,
but never mind.

Ha-ha-ha!
That's typical of my girls, is it not?

Then I beg your pardon. Mrs. Palmer will no
doubt be calling upon you herself very shortly.

You've seen my Charlotte, have you?

And how was she, pray?

(Chuckling) I'll warrant
she's a fine old size by this time.

But thank you for the offer of your company,
Colonel.

We shall be there. You may depend upon it.

Lord and Lady Mellors.

As I was saying, this fellow, he says to me,

"If it's a pointer bitch you're after, sir,
I have the very thing for you."

"I very much doubt it, my good fellow," says I.

"But if it gives you any pleasure,
you may show her to me."

And out he comes with the sorriest,
mangiest brute that ever stood on four legs.

- Well, three in this instance.
- Mrs. Jennings.

- If that's your idea of a pointer bitch...
- Miss Dashwood,

and Miss Marianne Dashwood.

Miss Dashwood? Did he say Miss Dashwood?

Oh, yes, indeed, sir.

Two of the jolliest, most delightful girls
in the world they are, are they not?

- Are they indeed? I must say you surprise me.
- You are acquainted with them already, sir?

Not I, sir, no,
but my brother Edward knows them.

He actually paid them a visit in their cottage.

- Then you are Mr. Edward Ferrars' brother?
- I have that doubtful honor, sir.

Oh, then let me shake you by the hand, sir.
Come, let me introduce you to them.

I won't, no.

Sister, I see Sir John bearing down upon us
with a captor. Pretend to be occupied.

(Whispers) Elinor, he's here.

- Willoughby?
- Over there, look.

Gracious heavens! Why does he not
look this way? He must have seen us.

- Marianne, do please compose yourself.
- I must go to him. I must.

My Willoughby!

Willoughby, will you not speak to me?

Miss Dashwood.

Would you excuse me for a moment, please?

I was not aware that you were to be here.

Tell me what the matter is.

Have you not received my letters?

I did myself the honor of calling upon you
at your lodgings the other day

but I was unfortunate enough
to find you not at home.

- My note was not mislaid, I trust?
- Your note?

I've had no note, nothing!

Indeed, I'm sorry.

Have you not received mine?

I've written to you innumerable times
and no answer!

Yes, well, I do beg your pardon.

If you would excuse me.

Some other occasion, perhaps.

- Elinor, stop him!
- Marianne, please, I cannot.

- Oh! Oh!
- Darling, do try and compose yourself!

Marianne! Marianne! Marianne!

(Cockerel crows)

(Horses' hooves)

Marianne.

Take no notice.

How long have you
been sitting there like that?

I thought I should be better up.

You've not slept at all?

If I so much as close my eyes,

it was only to re-enact that dreadful...

You must come back to bed.

Yes, please, and I will send
for some spirits of camphor

and tell Mrs. Jennings
you are too unwell to get up.

- No, I shall go down to breakfast as usual.
- But you cannot!

I could not bear her sympathy!
That would be too much!

She shall learn nothing of my
distress from me, I can assure you.

Mm?

Come, come, miss!
That will not do for a breakfast.

(Giggles) She must,
indeed, be in love, my dear.

But I can assure you that my Charlotte
never let that put her off her food.

Oh, dear, no.

She was far too fond of the table
for that was Charlotte.

- Excuse me, ma'am.
- Oh, Rodgers.

Oh-ho, a letter!

I think we need not ask
who that is from, eh?

That'll do her good.

That'll bring
her appetite back, eh, miss?

I hope it's to your liking.

I must see to her.

No, no, Mrs. Jennings, please! Let me.

I will be up shortly with something
that I'm sure will settle her.

(Elinor) Thank you.

Poor thing.

I would never have jested for the world,
if I'd known she'd be so upset.

(Knock on door)

Ohh!

What is it?

(Man) My dear madam,

I am much concerned that you appeared

to find something
in my manner last night

that did not meet
with your approbation.

I assure you
that any fault on my part

was quite unintentional.

I shall ever recall my visit
to Devonshire with grateful pleasure.

My esteem for your family
is very sincere

but if it has given rise
to a misunderstanding,

I shall reproach myself greatly

for not being more guarded
in my behavior.

You will appreciate my meaning

when I tell you that my affections
have long been engaged elsewhere.

And it will not be many weeks now
before that engagement is fulfilled.

I beg you, therefore, to forgive me
any unwitting distress

I may have caused you.

I end, dear madam.

(Knock on door)

(Mrs. Jennings) Elinor?

Yes, Mrs. Jennings.

- Has she vomited yet?
- No, madam.

Well, the moment she does,
give her this but not before, mind,

or it'll all be wasted.

It is from my last bottle
of old Constantia wine.

My husband always took it
for the colicky gout.

My girls swore by it
whenever they had a little upset.

Now I must leave you.

I have just this instant received the news
that my Charlotte has begun her labor.

- Is it not exciting?
- Yes.

I'm so excited,
I'm quite beside myself!

Tell poor Marianne, will you not,
the moment she is better

and if she is not fully recovered
by the time I return,

I shall send for a physician.

- Oh, no, no, madam, please.
- Yes, yes, miss, indeed.

Cruel.

Cruel Willoughby.

Nothing can acquit him of this.
Nothing.

No, Marianne, I'm afraid, it cannot.

And yet this woman...

Who knows what her art may be,

how much she may
have pursued and pestered him!

The fault may not be his!

Will you not try a little, sister?

Elinor, please leave me!

You cannot know what I suffer.

If only you knew.

Edward loves you! You must be happy!

What could make you otherwise?

Many, many things.

Am I to understand
that you do not want this?

Elinor, I must go home.

- Marianne...
- I must be with Mama.

Can we not be gone tomorrow?

- Tomorrow? We cannot possibly.
- Why not? Why should I stay here?

(Sobs) I came only for Willoughby.

And... and now who cares for me?

Who... who regards me?

Oh, Marianne, that is most unjust.

Poor Mrs. Jennings is very concerned
for you in her own way.

Her concern is not sympathy!
Her good nature's not tenderness!

All she wants is gossip!

Oh, Marianne, you do distress me
when you talk like that.

You know how untrue it is.

Very well.

If I distress you, go away,
leave me, forget me!

Don't be so silly, Marianne.

Now, come. Get into bed.

Here, let me help you.

Oh, Elinor... Good, kind Elinor,

I'm so unhappy!

- They're both upstairs, ma'am.
- Oh, Rodgers, thank you.

Elinor?

Elinor?

Elinor, my dear,
how is she, the poor thing?

I've settled her,
thank you, Mrs. Jennings.

Oh, la, I had it all the way there,

only to find that the spasms
had gone off again.

So like my Charlotte.

- Oh, I am sorry.
- Oh, my dear. My dear!

I now know the full story.

I had it not an hour since
from my friend, Mrs. Taylor,

who was standing
right beside the both last night.

Why did you not send for me?

- Mrs. Jennings...
- Never mind.

That poor creature.
Poor, poor creature!

No wonder she's unwell.

She has a weak stomach,
like my Mary,

and anything at all disagreeable
upsets it instantly.

Oh, that poor...

Oh, oooh, the wickedness of that man!
The wickedness!

He has used her abominably

and I shall tell him so to his face
when next I see him.

Oh, yes, I shall! I shall not scruple
whoever is present!

- (Gasps)
- Oh, Mrs. Jennings, don't upset...

50,000 they say her fortune is,
this young woman he is to marry.

And, by all accounts,
it won't come before it's needed,

because they say his affairs
are all to pieces!

(Knock on door)

Goodness, who's that at the door?

Well, there is one comfort.

He's not the only young man
in the world worth having

and with her pretty face,
she will never want admirers.

Never.

Oh... goodness.

I do believe... It is.
It's Colonel Brandon.

He has heard the news and lost no time

in turning the situation
to his own advantage.

He will take her on the rebound,
as they say,

and she could not do better.

2,000 a year
without debt or drawback.

Except for the little love child
and she a very quiet little thing.

My dear, I must slip away! I must!

They will be married before the mid-summer.
You may depend upon it.

(Chuckles)

In you go, sir.

Thank you.

- Colonel Brandon.
- Miss Dashwood.

I'm sure you would prefer not
to discuss the painful events of last night

but I feel there are certain matters
which should no longer be withheld from you.

If you would rather I did not speak,
I will say nothing.

You mean matters concerning
Marianne and Mr. Willoughby?

About him, principally. You sister,
thank God, must be utterly blameless.

Then tell me what you know.

Please.

You remember the day I quitted
you all so suddenly at Barton

when I was recalled to London?

Yes, yes, of course.

But now I shall have
to go right back to the beginning.

Miss Dashwood, you may or may not
be acquainted with the fact

that I have a ward,
a young lady who is in my charge.

She is, in fact, my niece

but I am quite sure the world would
have her somewhat closely related.

This poor girl is very dear to me.

She is the child
of a loveless and unhappy union.

Both her parents are now dead,

so I have a double responsibility
as her guardian and only relative.

She is a girl
of... striking character...

as her dear mother was at her age.

Wanting often in prudence, I'm afraid,
but never in liveliness of spirit.

It is hardly surprising
that your sister

should instantly have put me
in mind of her.

But to return, she went last summer
to stay with a school fellow in Bath.

There I discovered
that two young people

were permitted to roam almost at will
without proper protection.

I shall blame myself
till the end of my life

for not making sufficient enquiries.

- But how could you?
- Yes, I should have done!

But that is beside the point.

The result was that they met,
in a coffee shop or somewhere,

a party of young bloods,

of whom... Willoughby
was the ringleader.

Further meetings were arranged...

of a more... intimate nature.

- Need I make myself more clear?
- No, you need not.

The first I heard of it was when I received
that urgent summons the day of the picnic.

She had run away to London when her...

Her condition
could no longer be concealed.

Poor thing.

There she... she had attempted
to do away with herself.

So I was obliged to stay with her
for the remainder of her time.

And has she?

She was brought to bed of a boy
the week you came to London.

Oh, a boy. And is she fully recovered?

She is well enough in body
but her life is in ruins.

She is just 18 years old.

How dreadful!

It is, indeed,
a dreadful and sordid story.

Perhaps I was wrong
to speak to you at all.

No, no, indeed, you were not.

It is as well that one
should know of these things.

So you can imagine my feelings when I saw
this girl in the company of your sister

because I was aware from the beginning

that he had formed some sort
of relationship with my poor niece.

Though, at that point,
I was ignorant of its exact nature.

Willoughby.

I can scarcely yet believe it.

I can see him
as foolish and profligate.

But not as a villain.

There are some men, Miss Dashwood,

whose villainy
consists largely of weakness.

They are not to be trusted
in matters of the heart.

Yet the strange thing is that
this weakness seems to render them

not less attractive
to members of the opposite sex

but more so.

It is curious and paradoxical
but I have observed it to be the case.

Yes, I believe that may well be so.

I have ventured to tell you this,
Miss Dashwood,

so you may see
the events of last night

in a somewhat different light
on your sister's behalf.

Whether or not you pass
the information on to her,

I leave entirely
to your own good judgment.

I think she should be told.

It may cause her added pain
for the moment

but in the end
when she comes to herself again,

it should help her to see matters
in their true light.

I agree. That is my feeling exactly.

Thank you, Colonel Brandon,
for being so frank with me.

Well, you know, do you not,
that your sister's wellbeing

is... is of great concern to me.

I believe I do know it
and I thank you for that even more.

There's no need to thank me,
Miss Dashwood. I can assure you...

- (Rodgers) In here.
- Yes, thank you.

Ah, Elinor.

Brother John, what brings you here?

I learnt from your mother
that you were both in London

and as Fanny and I
are to be here for a while,

I thought that we should all meet.

Oh, that was very civil of you.

Colonel Brandon, may I introduce
my brother, Mr. John Dashwood?

- How do you do, sir.
- Sir.

Fanny sends her warmest regards.

She would have come herself,
only getting around London

is so monstrous fatiguing
and expensive

that she's having to rest this morning.

How very wise of her.

And Marianne? Where is she?
Out shopping, I presume.

No, Marianne is in her room.

In her room still?
What, at this hour of the morning?

She is a little indisposed, that is all.

Oh, dear. Nothing infectious, I hope.

No, nothing infectious.

Now, brother, if you will excuse me
for one moment.

- I do beg your pardon.
- Oh, please.

I shall await news
of your sister's recovery

with some anxiety, Miss Dashwood.

I shall give you
news of her, of course.

In the meantime, I am happy to feel

that she could not want
for more loving and sympathetic care

than she will receive at your hands.

Who is that fellow?

Colonel Brandon is a friend
and neighbor of the Middletons.

He's an excellent good-hearted man.

Brandon? Brandon?

It's not Colonel Brandon of Delaford
by any chance?

I believe that is the name
of his estate, yes.

Oh, he is a man of some substance.
Considerable substance.

My dear sister,
why did you not make that clear

when you introduced him to me?

I'm so sorry, brother.

Perhaps I should have said,

"This is Colonel Brandon
who owns so many hundred acres

"and has so much invested at 5%."

My dear Elinor, I wish he had
twice as much, for your sake.

For my sake? Why for my sake?

Oh, if you think that Colonel Brandon

has any intention
of making me his wife,

then I assure you, brother,
that you are quite wrong.

I think you are mistaken, Elinor.
I think you are very much mistaken.

I thought I observed

a considerable warmth
in his manner towards you just now.

Oh, you may well blush, miss,
you may well blush!

I'm not blushing, thank you, brother.

It would be droll if Fanny
were to have a brother married

and I a sister at the same time,
would it not?

What? Did you say Mr. Ferrars
is to be married?

Well, it is not quite arranged yet
so say nothing.

But his mother has decided
that it would be as well.

Is that so? And has she also decided
whom he is to marry?

She has her ideas
on the matter, certainly.

Yes, I may safely tell you, sister,

since you are always discrete, I know,

but it is her wish
that he should be betrothed

to no less a person
than the elder Miss Morton.

There, that surprises you, does it not?

I'm afraid I can make no comment,
as I do not know the lady.

Not know Miss Morton?

But, anyway, what is Mr. Ferrars
opinion of this arrangement?

Edward's? Why?
What concern is that, sister?

Goodness me, I'm almost forgetting
the purpose of my visit here!

I am to give a little dinner,

at which Mrs. Ferrars has
graciously consented to be present.

Fanny and I would, of course,
be delighted to give you and Marianne

the opportunity
of being presented to her.

Thank you, brother, but...

Now there is no need to feel nervous,
I assure you.

Her manner
is a trifle... austere at first

but I think you need
to have nothing to fear.

Especially now that Brandon's
come upon the scene.

Oh, Marianne, surely
you're not ready. I'm not nearly.

Oh, why must
they always put the fastenings

just where one cannot possibly reach them?

Oh, do be a sweet girl and do me up.

The carriage will be here in a moment
and I've hardly had...

Oh, Marianne!
You cannot go like that.

- Why not?
- Oh, you cannot possibly.

Oh, I wish now
that I'd not told you the full extent

of that wretched man's treachery

but I thought to do so would
settle your mind once and for all.

It has done so.

That can scarcely
bring me any comfort, I'm afraid.

Sister, don't push!

Well, if you would allow me
a little more room...

Sister!

Miss Steele. Lucy!

Gracious heavens!

Oh, la, Elinor, you look
mighty well this evening, I must say.

And that frock.
Mercy. May I see? Mercy!

And what, pray, are you doing here?

I expect you're surprised to see us.

I am, indeed.

Well, Sir John and your brother

have struck up the greatest
friendship on your account.

(Whispers) Which, as you can imagine,
is of great fortune to me.

At last, it seems,
I am to meet his family.

Oh, those two and their secrets.

Come, Marianne.
Let us take no notice of them.

Oh, how brave you are
to wear such plain colors.

I would never dare.

But with your complexion, of course,
you are quite right.

How clever of you to perceive that.

Oh, Elinor, how glad I am
of this chance to speak.

Only you know my true situation
and what this evening means to me.

I declare I have such
a dreadful fluttery sensation here

that I can scarcely stand.

Stay by me, Elinor. Support me.

I'm quite sure that you will
not need any of my support, Lucy.

Oh, but I shall.

Thank goodness, at least,
that he is not coming.

Poor fellow.

I know how dreadfully it would
distress him to see me so agitated.

You say Mr. Ferrars is not to be here?

Oh, no. Did you not know?

He wrote to me especially to say that
he would be unable to be in London,

which is very civil and thoughtful
of him, don't you think?

Yes, very.

Poor Edward.

If you ask me,
it means so much to him

that I should come well out of this
that he cannot face the ordeal.

Men are so squeamish
in these matters, are they not?

Whereas we poor creatures
have to put a brave face on it.

Are you quite comfortable, ma'am?

Perfectly, thank you.

Is there anybody else
you would care to meet, ma'am?

No, thank you.

Oh, ma'am, may I not be permitted
to present my sister, Miss Elinor?

Did you say Miss Elinor?

Elinor and her mother and sister
now live in Devonshire, Mama.

They are not often in London.

I am perfectly aware
to whom you refer, thank you.

Bring her here.

My sister Elinor, ma'am.

She's, at present, staying
with friends in Barclay Street.

- Indeed.
- How do you do, Mrs. Ferrars.

- The upper end.
- Is that so?

Yes, overlooking the park.

Oh, brother John,
one may just see the trees

from the servants' bedroom, I believe.

Anyway,
it is a most delightful house.

Indeed. Who is that girl, pray?

Oh, that, ma'am,
that is Miss Lucy Steele.

It was at her uncle's house
in Plymouth

that Edward lodged for several years,
if you remember.

Indeed.

She's also an acquaintance
of Lady Middleton, ma'am.

Quite a quietly spoken sort of girl,
I understand.

Bring her here.

You wish to speak to her, ma'am?
Certainly, ma'am, of course.

Yes, I've never seen a fellow
look quite so sick in all my life!

Oh, Mr. Ferrars!

I said I've seen better retriever bitches
than that come out of a pigsty!

Tush, Mr. Ferrars, what a thing to say!
Indeed, I'm surprised at you!

- Miss Lucy?
- Yes, Mr. Dashwood.

Mrs. Ferrars would like
to speak to you, please.

To me, sir? Oh, goodness.

Oh, la.

Yes, yes, come along.
Your pardon, sir.

Miss Lucy Steele, ma'am.

- Oh, Miss Steele.
- Honored, ma'am.

- Bring up a chair for Miss Steele.
- Certainly, ma'am.

Oh... thank you, sir.

That is quite a becoming gown
you are wearing, Miss Steele.

Quite becoming.

Oh, ma'am, it is most gracious of you
to say so, I must say.

There, do you really like it?

I see you were admiring
the fire screen, Colonel.

- Oh...
- It's the work of my sister, Elinor.

She is reckoned to draw tolerably well.

Then you as a man of taste should
be able to judge that better than I.

I'm hardly that, I'm afraid.
So this is your sister's work, eh?

Yes, Elinor, my elder sister.
Rather fine, is it not?

Oh, yes it is, indeed.
Very excellent.

Yes, Colonel, are they not
a talented pair, the Miss Dashwoods?

I don't know when I've come across
two young ladies

with so much natural genius!

Don't you agree, ma'am?

Yes, they have a number
of accomplishments, certainly.

What is this?

Oh, we are just admiring
this screen, ma'am.

Is it not a pretty thing?
Done by Miss Dashwood.

- By whom?
- By Miss Elinor Dashwood.

Oh... No, no, no.

There.

(Chuckles)
Is it not a mighty-fine thing?

- Very pretty.
- There is not so much detail, perhaps,

as in the work
of Miss Morton, I suppose.

Miss Morton? Indeed, there is not.
But then she does everything well.

(Shouts) Who cares about
the work of Miss Morton?

It is Elinor we're discussing!
Who is this Miss Morton, anyway?

Who is Miss Morton?

Miss Morton
is Lord Morton's daughter.

Lady Robinson,
are you quite comfortable?

Fanny, dear,
do look after Lady Robinson.

Dinner will not be
many more moments, I'm sure.

Take no notice of them, Elinor.
Don't let them hurt you!

I don't mind what they say.

One hair of your head
is worth all of them put together!

(Sobs)

- Oh, Marianne...
- Now, there, there, there!

The poor, poor thing! Oh, we know
what is the trouble, do we not?

My dear, my dear, try this.
Dear, dear? There.

Really, your sisters...

I know, my dearest,
but what can I do?

Well, make them hurry up with dinner,
for heaven's sake!

- The morning room, miss.
- Thank you.

Elinor, my dearest friend.

I just felt I had
to come and see you.

Oh, but before I speak, how is she?
Poor dear. Marianne, I mean.

Perfectly recovered, thank you.

Oh, I'm so glad.
I'm sure I felt for her dreadfully.

One feels so foolish afterwards,
doesn't one?

Marianne, fortunately,
doesn't seem to suffer in this way.

Well, Elinor,
what did you think of last night?

Could anything have been more marked
than Mrs. Ferrars' treatment of me?

I must confess,
I was quite astonished.

She was certainly most civil to you.

Civil? Did you see nothing more
than mere civility in her manner?

Oh, Elinor, come now.

If she'd have known
of your engagement,

then her treatment of you
would have been most significant

but as she does not...

I guessed you would say that
but there is no reason in the world

why Mrs. Ferrars should appear
to like me if she didn't.

And the fact that she did
is everything, is it not?

Yes, it is most important, I agree.
You are most fortunate.

But, Elinor, that is not all.

Fanny has invited us to stay.

- Fanny?
- Your sister-in-law.

We are to go immediately.
In fact, Nancy should already be there.

So I shall not be leaving
London yet awhile after all.

And, better still,
I shall have many opportunities

of meeting my dearest Edward
in his own sister's house.

(Giggles)

Oh, I'm so delighted I scarcely know
what to do with myself

and that's the truth.

Oh, why, Elinor, dear,
what is the matter?

- You're not unwell, I hope.
- Not in the least, thank you.

She is so charming,
is she not, Fanny?

And has such elegance.

I wonder I had not heard you say so
and Mrs. Ferrars...

I must confess I should not like

to get the rough side of her tongue,
as you did, Elinor dear.

But you must admit she has
great distinction of bearing.

I don't know
when I've ever seen such...

Here we are, sir.

Edward!

I came to see you because
I was unable to be at Fanny's...

Oh...

I'm sorry. I didn't know.

Please...

Lucy and you
know each other, of course.

Er...

Yes.

You may speak quite freely, Edward.
Elinor is my very good friend.

Oh, er...

Won't you sit down?

Yes.

Well, this is a great pleasure.

My sister and I often talk of you on your visit
to us in Devonshire, Edward.

They didn't tell me below
that you had company.

Perhaps it would be... more
convenient if I were to return later.

No, no, you must stay
now that you are here.

Lucy and I have quite finished
our conversation, have we not?

Oh, quite. I was just telling Elinor
that your sister, Mrs. Dashwood,

has invited Nancy and me for a visit.

- Indeed.
- Is that not mighty civil of her?

So we shall be seeing
quite a lot of each other

in the near future, no doubt.

No doubt.

My mother will be most delighted
to learn of your visit

when next I write, Edward.

Oh, your... mother.

Of course.

- Is she quite well?
- Extremely, thank you.

Edward! Dearest Edward!

This makes up for everything.

I saw you coming from my window.

This is the only good thing that has
happened since we came to London.

You look a little pale, Marianne.

London is not agreeing
with you, I fear.

Don't think of me, think of Elinor.

She is well, as you can see.

And that should be enough
for both of us.

Now come and sit by me.

Oh, Edward, why were you not
at Fanny's house last night?

Such an agonizing party!

If you'd been there, it would
have at least been tolerable.

Perhaps he was
already committed elsewhere.

Not all young men, you know,
are so quick to break off an engagement.

Edward has
the most delicate conscience

and is the most fearful of
giving pain of anybody I ever knew!

Yes, Edward!
It is so and I will say it!

If you're prepared
to accept my love and friendship,

then you must also be prepared
to submit to my praises, too.

They're not lightly given.

No, indeed. You can scarcely realize
how highly you've just been honored.

I came merely to make my apologies
for my absence last night.

I won't interrupt
your tête-à-tête any longer.

I'm sure you young ladies
have... much you wish to discuss.

What, going so soon? Edward!

We can't have this, can we, sister?

I'm sure he is quite free to go
when he wishes.

Take no notice of Miss Steele.
She surely cannot stay much longer.

Oh, I really... must be gone,
I'm afraid.

- If you will forgive me.
- Of course.

I think that I, too,
must be going, Elinor dear.

Perhaps you'd be good enough to walk
me round to your sister's house,

if you are going that way.

- To... my sister's?
- Yes.

Nancy and I are to be her guests.
I've just told you.

I beg your pardon.

Nancy should be there already

but I just had to come and see
my dearest Elinor first.

We have so much in common,
have we not, eh, you and I?

But I hope that we shall be meeting
many times in the next few days.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Elinor!

How you can stand by
and let poor Edward

be carried off by such a creature,
I do not know!

Poor Edward, as you call him,

is quite capable
of fighting his own battles.

I cannot fight them for him.

(Nancy) La, Mrs. Dashwood,
I take it most kind of you

that you should treat
Lucy and I so civil.

I do, really.

Oh, and as for your mother,

there, what presence, what dignity.

And her manner to my sister

was most marked,
I thought, did you, ma'am?

My mother appears to regard Miss Lucy
with some favor, certainly,

but why should she not?

Oh, no, indeed.

And I must say
it is most fortunate, is it not,

since they are soon
to be so closely related.

Oh, lorks! Well, what have I said?

Related, Miss Steele? In what way?

Well, there, Lucy would pinch me
for that if she knew.

But since your mother
took to her so clearly,

well, where's the harm, eh?

You spoke just now
of some relationship. What, pray?

Oh, the minute your brother
first came to our house,

I could see he had
no eyes for anyone else.

"Lor, Lucy," I said, "you're a lucky girl

"to have got yourself such
a smart beau as Mr. Edward," I said.

For, of course, I could soon see
the way things were going.

Miss Steele,
are you trying to suggest

there is some... some understanding
between your sister and my brother?

Oh, lor, Mrs. Dashwood, yes,

and has been
these four years at least.

What?!

But Lucy forbad me to speak of it.
She's very nice in such matters.

I always think a young lady
should be, don't you?

But since your mother
give it her approval,

well, I mean to say...

Out of my house!

What? I'm sorry,
I'm afraid, I don't understand.

I said get out of my house,
the pair of you!

I won't have you here!
I won't have it!

Oh, the shame! The humiliation!

Oh, go away! Get out of my sight!

I said get out of my sight!

Oh, Lor, Mrs. Dashwood, please!

(Screams)

- Fanny, my love, what has happened?
- Send them away, both of them!

I won't have them here!
I won't have it!

(Sobs)

What have you been and said?

(Screams)

Someone fetch a doctor!
Someone fetch a doctor at once!

- Edward and Lucy Steele?
- Edward and Lucy Steele.

False! It's a lie!
I don't believe you!

My dear, it is true, it is true.
It is perfectly true.

I had the whole story directly
from the doctor

who's attending my Charlotte
after her confinement.

It was he who was called in to attend
to poor Fanny and revive her

and he said himself, my dears,
that never in his life

has he seen a house in such an uproar!

Never!

The carriage was at the door
when he arrived

and your brother was,
at that very moment,

seeing the two young ladies off
with their baggage!

And, my dear, by all accounts,
Miss Nancy was in such a state,

she could scarcely stand unaided
and Miss Lucy little better.

Oh, no!

Why should you of all people feel pity?
I'm sure I feel none.

My dears, that's not all.
Not by a great deal.

For no sooner had the news
reached Mrs. Ferrars

that she sends for poor Edward
and... cuts them off with a shilling.

How can you?!

Every penny of his portion to go
to the brother, Robert. Every penny!

I just can't believe it.
And how long have you known all this?

Oh, about four months.

Since she first came
to stay at Barton.

Four months?
And how did you find out?

She told me herself with all
possible speed and at great length.

You've been so calm,
so outwardly cheerful.

Oh, Elinor,
how could you not tell me?

How could you let me
go on behaving as I did?

Because she made me promise
I would tell no one.

Many, many times have I longed
to undeceive you and Mother...

...but I could not.

And you still love him?

I acquit him of all misconduct
in the affair.

Beyond the original mistake of
allowing himself to become contracted

before his judgment
was properly formed.

In fact, I wish him very happy
and hope that he may be so.

Lucy, for all her faults, is superior
to many in her understanding.

Well, if that is what you truly feel,

then I've nothing more
to say on the subject.

You think, do you not,
that I have no strong feelings?

Believe me, Marianne, I have.

I assure you, it has not been easy
to learn all this

from her who is responsible
for taking Edward from me...

...to have to witness
her look of triumph as she told me.

Yet not give her the satisfaction

of displaying the extent of hurt
she'd inflicted.

Believe me, I have suffered.

I have suffered.

But it's my pride, I suppose,
that will not allow me to show how much.

Oh, Elinor, dear sweetest Elinor,

you've made me hate myself forever.

How barbarous I've been to you.

You who have been my only comfort.

What can I ever do
to make it up to you?

Do you really want to know?

Yes, yes, I do.

Set me some punishment,
some impossible task, anything.

Then I charge you
not to speak of this to anyone.

But of course I will not!
Is that all you ask?

No, Marianne, it is not.

I should like to see you
more agreeable in your manner

towards Mrs. Jennings from now on.

- Well, why should I pretend to?
- Marianne!

- I will try. I will really try.
- Good.

- Colonel Brandon, ma'am.
- Oh!

Oh, colonel, how mighty civil of you.

You've come for news of my Charlotte
and her babe, I have no doubt.

That was not my only reason, ma'am.

She's remarkably well, thank you.
Oh, remarkably well! Do sit down.

In fact, her chief concern now is
with the full recovery of her figure.

(Chuckles)

As I tell her,
she cannot expect miracles

but, there, you know what
these young creatures are, eh?

Oh, she will be delighted
that you've enquired!

Please convey to her my best wishes.

Oh, I will, colonel, I will.
Indeed, yes.

We are to leave for Somerset,
all of us,

as soon as she is
strong enough to travel.

For Somerset? And the Miss Dashwoods?

Oh, goodness, Colonel.

I wouldn't think of going anywhere
without the Miss Dashwoods.

- Fine brave girls, are they not?
- In that case, I...

Now the arrangement
was made only this morning.

(Whispers) And I've not spoken of it yet.

To tell the truth we have been
much occupied with... other matters

of a somewhat more personal kind

but, there, you'll hear all about
that soon enough, I have no doubt.

If the Dashwoods
are leaving London...

No, they wouldn't go
anywhere without me, Colonel,

for they treat me
as their own mother!

No, our chief concern now
is with the babe!

Oh... this morning
Charlotte was in a great fuss.

He'd had a fretful night

and this morning he'd broken out
in a number of pimples.

She was sure
it was some dreadful malady

and was in a high old state!

"Lord, child," I said,

"that's nothing but the red gum
that don't signify!"

Of course the nurse bore me out.

If you're all shortly leaving London,

perhaps I might be permitted
to speak to one of the young ladies.

How foolish of me!
Of course, Colonel.

I'll fetch Miss Marianne for you.

Miss Elinor, ma'am, if I may.

Miss Elinor?

Yes, I have something of a
delicate nature to discuss with her,

if you would not think
it was discourteous, ma'am.

I...

No!

No, not at all, Colonel.

No, not the least little bit
in the world, I assure you.

(Chuckles)

I'll fetch her for you and I'll see
that you're not disturbed.

- I'd be greatly obliged, ma'am.
- You're a good kind man, Colonel.

And she's the dearest little girl
in all the world.

(Knock on door)

(Mrs. Jennings) Elinor?

(Marianne) Don't let her in.

One moment, Mrs. Jennings.

Elinor, my love...
Oh... Oh, those stairs.

(Gasps)

The Colonel...
Oh, I have no breath, dear.

He insists upon seeing you.

- Really, Mrs. Jennings?
- Yes, dear. Oh, that's better.

He has something of the utmost
importance he wishes to say to you.

(Laughs) My dear! Oh, my dear!

Let me kiss you!
He's down there now, this minute!

Oh, forgive me! Oh, forgive me, dear,
but I'm so happy for you! Run along.

Yes, Mrs. Jennings.

Oh... Marianne, Marianne!

Your sister is surely
the most delightful of creatures!

Yes, ma'am, I'm aware of that.

Did I not say that this would happen
if you came to stay with me?

Oh... well... Well, we mustn't
disturb them, must we?

(Chuckles)

Oh, I wish I were
a fly downstairs on the wall

at this very moment, don't you?

Oh! (Sighs)

Oh, Miss Dashwood.

I have only just heard of the great
injustice your friend, Mr. Ferrars,

has suffered
at the hands of his mother.

I understand he's to be
entirely cast off by her.

So I believe, Colonel Brandon.

And all because he insisted
upon sticking to the engagement

he had contracted to this girl,
Miss Lucy Steele. Is that not right?

Yes, that is right.

I believe Mr. Ferrars
hopes to take orders.

Well, I have a living
vacant at Delaford.

Colonel Brandon!

Oh, it's not a rich one,
I can assure you. Anything but.

The vicarage is small
and scarcely commodious but there it is.

The couple might well do worse
for the first few years of their married life.

I take him to be a modest young man,
in the worldly sense,

but then you know his character
far better than I.

So you are offering this living
and the house that goes with it

to Mr. Ferrars and his wife?

- Yes.
- I hardly know what to say.

Oh, I scarcely know
the young man myself, of course.

I've formed a favorable opinion on
the acquaintance I've had with him.

That's why I should be most grateful
if you would act on my behalf.

So you want me
to convey this generous offer?

If you would, Miss Dashwood.

Colonel Brandon, please don't think I'm not
sensible of the honor you do me

in asking me to speak on your behalf.

But, really, I'm afraid
that this is something I cannot do.

I mean, of course,
that the generosity is yours

and that the credit and thanks
should be yours also.

But that is precisely what I prefer
to avoid, Miss Dashwood.

I was hoping you would see a way
to help me and be my friend,

as you have done before
on several occasions.

However, if you would prefer not,
then I quite understand.

Goodbye, Miss Dashwood.

Wait!

I will speak, if you wish me to.

I'm sure no one would do it with more
tact and good sense than yourself.

I'm a poor hand at these matters,
I'm afraid.

When would you wish me
to speak to him?

As soon as possible,
I should say, wouldn't you?

So he may plan his future
and marry whenever he so wishes.

Well, goodbye, Miss Dashwood,
and thank you.

Goodbye, Colonel Brandon.

Come in.

Elinor.

You will think it
most extraordinary conduct on my part

to visit you like this unaccompanied.

But I have a piece of news
of such particular importance to yourself

that I hope you will forgive me.

But of course. Anything that brings...

Please, I will keep my visit
as brief as possible.

In short, I have just seen Colonel Brandon,

who is so incensed
by your mother's treatment of you

that he wishes me to convey his desire that
you should accept the living of Delaford.

Colonel Brandon offers... me a living?

- But why?
- For the reason I have just given.

He is a good-hearted man
and, like the rest of us,

greatly distressed
to hear of your disinheritance.

Oh. Now I see it.

This is your doing.
You know you are too good to me.

- No, no, you are quite mistaken.
- Elinor...

I do assure you
you owe it entirely to your own merit.

I have not said one word upon the subject
and am to act merely as... go-between.

I was charged particularly to tell you

that though the living is not a rich one,
it is sufficient together with a house...

to make your marriage a possibility.

The colonel wished me
to make that point perfectly clear.

I see. Thank you.

Now, having discharged my obligation,
if you would excuse me.

- Oh, don't go.
- I wish you every happiness for the future.

Yourself and, of course, Miss Steele.

If you are so bent upon leaving,
when... may I hope to see you again?

The likelihood of our meeting again -
at any rate, in the near future -

is not very great.

We leave London, all of us, tomorrow.

We are to spend one night at the Palmers'
house, Cleveland, on the way down,

and then the next day
Marianne and I go alone to Barton Cottage.

- Barton Cottage.
- Goodbye, Edward.

- Elinor, I must say something.
- Please!

You know, don't you,
what my feelings really are?

Don't say any more.
I said goodbye, Edward.

Oh. Oh, what a journey. (Chuckles)

Oh, well. Only ten more miles.

I warrant you girls will be as glad to get out
and stretch your legs as I shall.

- (Sneezes)
- Oh!

Bless you.

I have no doubt Charlotte is this moment
running back and forth,

ordering this and that for our arrival.

I only hope her excitement will not interfere

with the supply of nourishment
for the babe.

- (Sneezes)
- Oh!

There. (Laughs) Oh, there it is!

Oh, doesn't it look splendid?

Oh, girls! Girls!

After I'd given him his feed he slept
from Marlborough almost as far as Bath.

Oh, he's a good boy. Isn't he a good boy?

- He's a fine, strong, manly boy.
- (Baby cries)

- Shall I take him, Mama?
- Oh, indeed, sir.

He's perfectly happy with me, ain't you?
# Ain't you ain't, sir? #

- Marianne.
- Very well.

Mrs. Jennings, if you don't mind,
I think we'll go upstairs.

- Yes, certainly, dear.
- Oh! Mama!

- Somebody help me. She's fainted.
- Oh!

Oh! Oh.

There.

I knew she was unwell in the carriage.

Did I not say that she was unwell?

Oh, she's contracted some horrible disease
on the journey, I know it!

Nurse! Nurse!

- She has a high fever.
- Oh, Mrs. Jennings, what can we do?

Send for a physician, my dear,
as quickly as possible.

I'm afraid there can be no question
of your sister continuing her journey

until the fever
has fully abated - none whatever.

How long might that be?

Well, that's very hard to say,
very hard to say.

The crisis may not be reached

- for another 48 hours at least.
- Crisis?

Yes, there's always a point of crisis
in these fever cases.

A putrid infection, my dear.

Oh, it's a purely medical term,
I assure you.

- An infection?
- Yes, dear.

- Then I must take him away immediately.
- Yes, I fear the worst.

Mr. Palmer's sister will have to take us in,
however inconvenient.

Oh, the poor little fellow. I must get him
out of the house immediately.

- Nurse! Nurse!
- Shh. Quietly, child.

Well, I'll send up a bottle of physic.

You give her a draught
every four hours, night and day.

No heating foods, plenty of liquids.
I'll see her again tomorrow.

Thank you, Doctor.

Oh, thank you.
That one, only, need go upstairs.

Oh, Colonel,
thank goodness you've come.

(Weeps)

- I thought for a moment you'd be too late.
- Too late? What's happened?

Poor Marianne. Oh... Of course, I knew.

I knew as soon as we left Marlborough
that she was unwell

- but I thought perhaps it was the motion.
- Miss Marianne?

I've never in my life been so glad to get to
the end of a journey in all my days. Never.

Am I to understand
that Miss Marianne is ill?

Ill? My dear Colonel, she could scarce
walk through that door, she was so weak.

And if I had not been in time to support her

she would have fallen, senseless,
to the ground.

Good God, this is terrible. Poor child.

A putrid infection, the doctor says.
Over her whole body.

Never in the whole of his experience
has he known of anything so rapid. Never.

The next 48 hours should tell the end of it
one way or the other, that's what he says.

This is deeply distressing,
deeply distressing.

Perhaps I should not encumber you
with my presence here.

- No, don't leave me, I entreat you.
- Oh, but...

I need the presence of
another calm, clear head such as yours.

Oh, Colonel, just think.

That poor child upstairs -

only this morning, laughing and joking,
as merry as ever. And now...

(Mutters)

Marianne...

You should read Cowper.

What is it? What do you want?

Nobody... can claim to have
a properly informed mind

who's not... read Cowper.

You must go to sleep, Marianne.

But she must not go round... by London.

I shall... never see her again
if she goes to London!

Oh, Mrs. Jennings,
thank goodness you've come.

- Was there no letter, Mama?
- Oh... poor thing, she's wandering.

- She's dreadfully flushed.
- Was there no letter?

There, there.

He promised he would write. He promised.

- He will, Marianne. Now go to sleep.
- I know... he will not.

He will not. He will... not.

I think we'd better send for your mother.
The colonel will go, I'm sure of it.

- If he were to leave now, tonight...
- What do you...

...she could be with us
by this time tomorrow, I'm sure of it.

- I'll go and find him at once.
- Thank you, Mrs. Jennings.

My coat, man, my traveling coat.

No, there's no time for that. Give it to me.

(Distant) On the road with you
and drive like the devil.

(Wind howling outside)

Goodness. Is it eight o'clock already?

I'm a trifle early.

How has she been?

Peaceful. Quite peaceful.

Mrs. Jennings, I hardly dare say it

but I really begin to feel now
she may get better.

Elinor, my child,
did you manage to get any sleep?

Yes. Don't worry about me.

To think that in two hours' time
Mother and Colonel Brandon may be here.

If only this dreadful weather
doesn't delay them.

Now promise me you'll call me, mind,
the moment the carriage arrives.

- But you may be asleep.
- Never mind.

- Promise.
- Very well. I promise.

Mrs. Jennings.

Oh... dear Mrs. Jennings.

- I hardly know how to thank you.
- Oh, fiddlesticks, fiddlesticks.

I fear that at times one or other of us
have treated you with rather less respect

- than is your due.
- Nonsense, my dear. Nonsense.

There's nothing I enjoy more
than the company of young people.

And you and your sister
could not have treated me

with greater sweetness and civility
if you had been my own daughters.

It's very generous of you
to say so, madam.

Call me, mind, the moment
the carriage arrives.

I will, I... promise.

(Whispers) The carriage has arrived.

- Willoughby.
- Bear with me for five minutes.

- No, sir.
- But I've driven all the way from London.

- From London?
- Marianne...

I learned just now from the servant
who let me in that she is a little better.

But is it true? Was it really true?

Oh, for God's sake tell me.
I mean, is she out of danger or is she not?

Yes, we hope now that she is.

Then God be praised.

If I'd known as much a while back...

But since I'm here, can I ask you
just to spare me a few moments?

Miss Dashwood.

Very well.

- You had better sit, had you not?
- Oh, no thank you.

Then I will.

(Clears throat)

When I first became intimate
with your family...

in those happy, far-off days,
I confess that I had no other object

than to pass my time in Devonshire
as agreeably as possible.

Your sister's lovely person and interesting
manners could not but please me

though, to be honest,
I had at first no serious design

in returning her evident affection.

Mr. Willoughby, it is hardly worthwhile
your telling me all this.

Please do not pain me further
in this manner.

No, please, I-I insist on
you hearing the whole of it.

Please.

Now, this was at the very beginning.

But very soon, even I...
profligate though I was, and am...

found my heart truly moved
by your sister's sweetness.

Then you did, at one time,
genuinely believe yourself attracted to her?

Is there a man on earth
who could have resisted her?

Certainly not I, Miss Dashwood.

No, the happiest hours of my life
were those that I spent with her...

when I still considered my intentions
honorable and my feelings blameless.

Oh, I had determined
to engage her alone, too,

to justify the attentions
I had so invariably paid her.

But you didn't.

Alas, to what depths one can go
in self-deception.

It was about this time, you see,
that certain matters became public.

Certain matters, you understand, resulting
from a previous youthful indiscretion.

- Do I make myself clear?
- You do.

Though how you have the effrontery
to speak of such matters

is almost beyond my comprehension.

Because I must be
absolutely frank with you!

But if you think for one moment
that I feel no shame,

then I can assure you
that you are quite wrong.

Go on.

Oh, God, that awful day
when I had to tell your sister

that I must return at once to London
will ever remain etched in my mind.

Your mother, as I remember,
rubbed salt in the wound

by her kindness
in asking me to come back.

But the situation was, by then, such that
there was no possibility of returning.

Imagine my state of mind
on that long trip back to London.

Your sister's affections destroyed,
my inheritance gone

and all my affairs completely in ruins.

Your situation was truly deplorable,
Mr. Willoughby,

but hardly so desperate
as that of the poor creature

whose life you had so thoughtlessly ruined.

Miss Dashwood, my conduct
was extremely wrong, I'll admit.

But in these matters, you know, the fault
is very seldom solely on the one side.

You will do little to improve your case, sir...

by trying to share the blame,
however justly, with a poor young woman

whose sufferings must be
so immeasurably greater than your own.

This is not... worthy of you.

Strong words, Miss Dashwood.

But well merited, I fear.

And is this all?

No.

Indeed it is not all.

I have not confessed the worst of it yet.

For, having reached the very depths,

I decided that the only way
of recovering my lost fortune...

was through marriage.

Yes, I see the look upon your face.

Well, if it is of any comfort to you,
Miss Dashwood...

I have been amply repaid for my pains.

Amply. Now, does that bring you
any satisfaction?

No, sir, it does not.

And then to come face-to-face
with your sister like that...

as beautiful as an angel...

holding her hand out to me
and asking me for an explanation...

with those bewitching eyes
looking up into mine.

And Sophia on the other side,
as jealous as the very devil.

God, what a contemptible figure I cut.

That was the last look
I ever had of Marianne.

And yet... when I thought of her today...

as really dying...

it was a kind of comfort to me
to imagine that...

I knew exactly how she would appear
to those who saw her last in this world.

She was ever there in my mind...

before me, as I traveled.

And the letter, sir.
How, pray, do you explain that?

The letter?

Oh, y... Oh, yes, the letter.

Do you not admire
my wife's style of composition?

- Your wife's?
- Delicate, tender, truly feminine, is it not?

But the hand was yours.

Written at her dictation,
I'm ashamed to say.

You are very wrong, sir,
to speak of Mrs. Willoughby in this way.

You had a choice.
It was not forced upon you.

Your wife has a claim
to your politeness, at least,

whatever her merits may or may not be.

And to speak of her so slightingly
is no great atonement to poor Marianne.

Once again, you're right. I stand rebuked.

You are very harsh, are you not,
in your moral judgments?

Well, goodbye, Miss Dashwood.
I thank you for bearing with me for so long.

You are not driving
straight back to London?

Oh, yes. Tell Mari...

Tell your sister from me...

that she has never been dearer
or more precious to me

than she is at this very moment.

I will.

Thank you.

Goodbye, Miss Dashwood.

- God bless you.
- Goodbye.

Is that Elinor?

Marianne.

Could I have a drink of water, please?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Oh, Marianne,
I really believe you are better.

Better. Much better.

- Oh, Mama!
- Is she?

- Yes! Yes, she's much improved.
- Oh, thank God!

Thank God.

Colonel Brandon,
I hardly know how to thank you.

Your sister's recovery is sufficient reward,
Miss Dashwood.

I truly believe this last hour
has been the worst of my life.

Come. We must leave them.

I only trust the joy of this reunion
will not prove too great a strain

for your sister, Miss Dashwood.
Do you think perhaps...

(Sobs)

I'm sorry. How foolish.

It's the relief. All these dreadful days
I've remained dry-eyed and now...

- She's so dear, so very, very dear to me.
- That I can well believe.

What a joy it is
to be able to read poetry again.

See how strong I'm growing, Elinor.

Already I can enjoy a little light Cowper.

Very soon I shall be able to digest
even Pope and Dryden.

Marianne.

Now that you are so much stronger,

I feel I should tell you something.

Whilst you were at the height of your fever
I received a visit from...

- From him?
- Yes.

Elinor... I hope you didn't speak to him.

I hope you turned him from the door.

I had a mind to.
But, Marianne, his distress was so genuine

and his concern for you so deep
that I could not.

- So...
- He did love you, and indeed still does.

But his dread of poverty was such
that he married a rich wife

- and now he is suffering for it.
- Suffering.

Oh, he has acted abominably, I know.

He knows it himself
and freely admits as much.

But, Marianne,
there is something good in him.

Must be, that he should...
feel and speak the way he did.

I'm sorry. I should not have told you.

But I had hoped
that the wound had healed.

Oh, I feel nothing... I can assure you.

Nothing at all.

I'm afraid that is not true, sister.

No.

But I intend to put behind me
all the foolish affections of the heart.

It's my resolve
that nobody shall ever hurt me again.

From now on, I shall devote my life
entirely to the pursuits of the mind.

Is that quite understood, sister?

Yes, of course, sister. Perfectly.

May I be permitted to ask after
the invalid this morning, madam?

I trust she passed a good night.

Oh, yes, she's gaining strength daily,
Colonel.

She needs but a little fresh air
and congenial company

to be quite herself again.

You think so? You really think so?
I'm delighted to hear it.

But visit her and see for yourself.
Why not?

- Me, ma'am?
- Yes. Why not?

But I hardly feel she'd be likely to welcome
a visit from someone of my...

Of course she would. You're too modest.

She's just pining for
a little intelligent conversation.

- Oh, but Madam, I feel...
- Give her just a few moments.

Oh, she will be so pleased.

Very well, ma'am.

He's a thoroughly estimable man,
I grant you.

But, Mama,
what can we possibly talk about?

Apart from thanking him
for bringing you here.

His interests and mine are totally unalike
in every particular.

Nonsense, my love. The colonel
is much better informed than you think.

- He's just shy, that's all.
- I know just what will happen.

He'll sit there looking so wretched

that I shall have to exhaust myself in
my efforts to keep the conversation going,

simply out of pity for him.

(Chuckles) There.
Are you quite comfortable?

Oh, very well, Mama. If you insist.

- May I have my mirror, please?
- A mirror, my love?

Of course.

Oh. Gracious heavens, what a sight.

You look very well, my dear. A little pale,
that's all. That color suits you.

Please don't leave us together too long,
Mama. That's all I beg.

- Very well. If you don't wish it.
- (Knock on door)

- Ah.
- Promise.

Ah, Colonel, come in. Come in.
You're her first visitor.

I feel myself greatly honored, ma'am.

- You don't think it will be too much?
- No, no, no.

Assuredly not. It'll do her good.

I promise I'll not stay long enough
to fatigue her.

Marianne. Colonel Brandon.

Colonel Brandon, I must thank you
for your great kindness

in going to fetch my mother when you did.

I'm sure we all feel greatly indebted to you,
don't we, Mama?

- Please, Miss Marianne...
- Yes, of course. We do indeed.

Well, now, I have some sewing
to do downstairs.

So I'll leave you two
to have your little talk together, shall I?

- Please don't let me drive you away.
- Oh, no. Please, Mama.

I'm sure poor Colonel Brandon

cannot possibly wish to remain indoors
on such a fine day.

Indeed, it will be no great hardship,
I can assure you.

- Goodbye, then.
- Goodbye, ma'am.

Goodbye, Mama.

Are you familiar with this part
of the countryside, Colonel Brandon?

Oh, yes. Yes.

Tolerably.

(Sighs)

Ah, there you are.

At last we are alone, my love.

I have scarcely had the opportunity
to say a word to you since I came.

Oh, Elinor, I'm so happy.

I know he loves her.

- Who, Mama, loves whom?
- Why, Colonel Brandon.

He told me so himself.

Well, not in so many words.

But he opened his whole heart to me
as we traveled.

Oh. Colonel Brandon
loves Marianne, you mean.

Oh, Elinor, you were never like me
or I should wonder at your composure.

It came out quite unawares,
without design.

He just could not conceal his distress.

And I suppose
thinking that mere friendship

would not justify such strong feelings

made me acquainted with
his... tender, constant affection for her.

He has loved her, Elinor,

ever since the first moment of seeing her.

Indeed, Mama?

I'm sure his regard for her far surpasses
anything that Willoughby ever felt.

- Or professed to feel.
- Oh.

Such a noble mind, such... openness,
such sincerity.

- Nobody can be deceived in him.
- Do you really think so, Mama?

I am quite sure of it, my love.
I'm convinced of it.

Oh, Mama.

But that's extraordinary.

I must make it my business to read it again
after what you say.

But I feel I should warn you that he uses,
well, certain words and phrases

that might be offensive to a young lady.

I hope you will not condemn me
for my recommendation.

Colonel Brandon,
you do me a grave injustice.

Strong or vigorous language
will never offend me

where its use is truly poetic

and for the... the purpose
of heightening the picturesque.

Whereas the same phrase in the mouth
of someone of low intelligence

and no sensibility
might well be utterly abhorrent.

My sentiments exactly,
and admirably phrased.

Well, now, my darling,
you mustn't get overtired.

- I beg your pardon, ma'am.
- Oh, no, no, no. Sit down. Sit down.

Wait a minute.
John Donne, Andrew Marvell...

and, of course, Edmund Spenser.

Well, I confess this is all
quite a revelation to me, Colonel Brandon.

You have made me see
that up to this moment

my taste has been built on
far too narrow a foundation.

I was about to observe that you had done
exactly the same for myself.

I have to admit that "Cow-per" has hitherto
been almost unknown to me.

- "Coo-per"
- Oh, "Coo-per".

Marianne, it really is time
you were back in bed.

Yes, I must be going. I fear I have
fatigued her with my thoughtless chatter.

I'm not in the least fatigued, thank you.

Come and see her again, Colonel,
if you'd be so kind.

- Tomorrow morning, before we leave.
- Oh, thank you, ma'am, I'd like to.

And thank you
for a most enjoyable conversation.

Oh, I hope we may continue it when
you come to Barton, Colonel Brandon.

Come along now. Back to bed.

You've been up and about
quite long enough.

There's a well-stocked library
in Barton Park

that nobody ever uses,
is there not, Mama?

Yes, I believe so.

Now wrap yourself up warmly, my darling.

We don't want you catching cold again.

If Sir John will give me permission,

I intend to use
the period of my convalescence

for the furtherance of my knowledge
and understanding.

But why do you look at me
like that, Mama? Is that so strange?

No more now.

Don't forget we have a long journey
ahead of us tomorrow.

Oh, Mrs. Jennings, you've been so good
and so kind to me.

Take great care of yourself.

- Yes.
- Oh, I shall miss you.

Oh, Mrs. Jennings, I can never thank you
enough for all that you've done.

- Ever. You know that.
- Nonsense.

We have had some jolly times together,
have we not?

- Oh...
- Don't fuss, Mama.

Goodbye, Colonel Brandon.
We'll be seeing you very soon, I'm sure.

Yes. Goodbye, Miss Dashwood.

Goodbye.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

- Goodbye!
- (Distant) Goodbye.

Happy journey!

- Oh, such dear, sweet girls, eh, Colonel?
- (Carriage drives off)

I scarce know
how I shall endure without them.

And with you gone, too, I shall be
hard put to it for lively conversation.

You're too kind, ma'am.

I must confess to you privately, Colonel...

that I do, above all things in this life,

value the company of lively
and entertaining young people.

I think the prospect of being deprived of it
for any length of time...

would assuredly...

Strange fellow.

(Chuckles)

Well... Charlotte will be back tomorrow.

With the babe.

The house will soon be full again.

When the weather is better
and I have recovered my strength...

we'll go for long walks together.

Yes, yes, of course.

We'll go to the farm
at the edge of the down...

and see how the children are.

And try and trace
the foundations of the priory.

Yes.

I know the summer will pass happily away.

I mean never to be later in rising than six.

And from that time until dinner
I shall divide every moment

between music and reading.

I've determined to enter upon
a course of serious study.

And those books which I cannot find
at Barton Park

Colonel Brandon, I'm sure, will supply.

Are you familiar with
the works of Spenser, sister?

Spenser? I thought you found him
too coarse.

Oh! No, no, no, no.
You misunderstand me.

Spenser, Donne, Marvell...

I mean to make myself
thoroughly conversant with all their works.

And as for music...

(Begins to play)

(Stops)

I cannot play. My fingers are too stiff.

Marianne... the hurt is still there a little,
is it not?

Everything... everything in this room
reminds me so acutely of him.

I feared that this homecoming
would be painful to you.

No, Elinor, you are wrong.

I do not intend to speak
of what my feelings once were

but of what they are now.

I have truly done with regret.

That's all over.

Or it would be... if I could feel
he was not always acting a part

when he spoke to me as he did,
not always deceiving me.

I am convinced that he was not, sister.

And had you seen him as I did,
you would no longer doubt it.

(Sighs)

Then my mind is at rest.

I had looked forward to this homecoming...
with dread on that account.

But by facing these familiar objects,
with all their memories...

I feel I am finally
exorcising his spirit from my mind.

Oh, Marianne, you don't know
how happy you make me.

There now, young ladies.

I expect that's what you're wanting.

Oh yes, Mary. Thank you.

Now, let me see.

What's new since you went away?

- Oh. You've heard about poor Mr. Petty?
- No.

- Oh, dear, he's gone.
- Oh...

Still, that was only to be expected,
poor soul, wasn't it?

But who'd have thought
that Betty Weaver's Margaret

would have gone off
with that young Will... whatsisname?

Still, that was some time ago, wasn't it?

Oh! I knew there was something.

You've heard that Mr. Ferrars is married?

- What?
- Oh, yes.

'Twas Thomas brought the news, look,
from Exeter this morning.

How did he discover this, Mary?

Oh, he came face-to-face with her -
Miss Lucy that was -

and she told him how she and Mr. Ferrars

was married not a week since.

But, dear, I made sure you'd have known.

If you would excuse me.

Thank you, Mary. That'll do.

Thomas was most particular
that Miss Lucy said she was anxious

that Miss Elinor should be told.
Most particular.

I said thank you, Mary.

Oh. Very well, ma'am.

Just as you wish.

Poor Elinor. If only I could lessen the hurt.

Only time can do that.

As it did in your own case.

When do you expect the colonel
this morning?

He should be here at any moment now.

(Plays)

Mr. Edward Ferrars, ma'am.

Edward! I had no notion you...

I was in Devonshire, ma'am,
on a family... matter

and I could not pass
so close to Barton without...

Marianne, the sun is so bright
this morning,

I thought that you and the colonel
should go in the garden.

Elinor.

Edward was passing through
the neighborhood, my love,

and he was kind enough
to make it his business to call.

I'm very glad indeed that you did.

- And is Mrs. Ferrars with you?
- No.

No, my... mother is still in London.

I did not mean your mother, sir.
I meant Mrs. Edward Ferrars.

Why, I presume you mean
Mrs. Robert. Lucy.

- Mrs. Robert?
- You mean...

Lucy and my brother Robert
were married last week in Exeter.

Lucy and Robert?

Well, did you not know?

Well, that is the reason for my...
being in the neighborhood.

That and the hope that afterwards
I might have the pleasure

of seeing Barton once again.

Lucy... and Robert.

I can still scarcely believe it.

I did not realize
that you were unaware of the...

changes that have recently taken place
in our family.

Whatever your news is, Edward,
you are always welcome here.

I am sure that you and Edward
would be happier in the garden.

Oh, yes, Mama. Edward, would you care
to come out into the sunshine?

I should like nothing in the world better.

Lucy and Robert!

Mama, is that not wonderful?

How richly each deserves the other.

Who says now there's no such thing
as poetic justice, eh?

Marianne, that is the first unkind thing
I've heard you say for weeks.

- I'm sure, my love, you are fully recovered.
- I am, Mama.

(Colonel Brandon outside)
Mary, I'll show myself in.

I shall have to occupy myself upstairs
for the remainder of the morning.

Why?

- Good morning, Colonel.
- Good morning, ma'am.

I think I managed to execute
all your commissions, Miss Marianne.

Rasselas, Prince Of Abyssinia,
The Mysteries Of Udolpho,

Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire,
volumes two and three.

We've had an unexpected visitor.

Oh, Elinor...

I have longed for this moment
from the instant of our first meeting.

Dear, dear Elinor.

Would you...

Could you... possibly?

- No, Edward. No.
- But... why?

Well, the gravel is much too damp.
We had a shower early this morning.

There. If you must be so foolish, take that.

(Laughs) Oh, prudent, practical Elinor.

How could anyone fail to love you?

Miss Marianne...

Dear Miss Marianne.

Yes, Colonel Brandon.

(Elinor) Marianne? Mama?

- Did you call me, Elinor?
- Mama, we are engaged to be married.

Oh... my precious!

- And, Mama...
- Congratulations, Elinor.

- Thank you, Colonel.
- And to you, Edward.

- And to you.
- Oh, Marianne!

Congratulations!

Synchro: Peterlin