Dickensian (2015–2016): Season 1, Episode 19 - Episode #1.19 - full transcript

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

(HORSE NEIGHS)

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

MAN: Uh, this way.

Move those tools.

How dare he strut around
Satis House like a peacock

- as if he damn well owns the place.
- Because he soon will.

- Over my dead body.
- The wedding is tomorrow.

- They've already begun preparations.
- There will be no wedding.

What will you do?

I intend to expose Meriwether Compeyson



for the lie and the fraud
that he really is.

- She is besotted with him.
- No.

No, she is besotted with
the man that she thinks he is.

That man doesn't exist.

I need you to get him away
from Satis House.

- I'll try.
- Do it.

What if Amelia won't listen to you?

I won't be alone.
We must gather our forces.

This madness ends today.

As soon as we get back from the church,

champagne to be served
at the door as the guests arrive.

One tray to the left
and one to the right.

- Best crystal glasses.
- Yes, Mistress.

I want formal napkins on all of
the tables, best silver and linens



and more flowers there.

Begging your pardon, Miss Havisham,
your dress and veil.

Mary? Show Martha to my room, would you?

Lay out the dress, I'll be up shortly.

- Is Miss Honoria back, Martha?
- Uh, I'm not sure, Miss.

Seems I am to be married without
my chief bridesmaid. (CHUCKLES)

I think it's only important
you and I are there.

Nonsense.

I'm a Havisham, this has to be the best
wedding London society has ever seen.

I want people
talking about it for years.

I think our bankers
may be talking about it even longer.

Hmm. Notoriety doesn't come cheap.

And as you will be master
of Satis House once we're married,

this will be my last opportunity

to spend this much money
without asking your permission.

And if I wasn't?

Master of Satis House?
If there was none of this?

If you were a shop girl
and I was a penniless labourer

from a humble background,
would you still be happy?

- Why would you ask such a thing?
- Would you?

Yes.

Yes, a thousand times yes.

And you?

A thousand times more.

Into the corners.

(DOOR OPENING)

Sir?

(PANTING)

MRS BUMBLE: Must I do everything
for this trustees' visit?

Where's that painting, Bumble?

- (CHUCKLING) I have it, my love.
- Oh!

Oh, uh...

Hold still, boy!

Josiah Bounderby,

founder of the East London workhouses.

It will show the trustees
how mindful we are of their office

and how much we value
the traditions of our profession.

You took the very words from my lips,
my strawberry pudding.

- Where should he hang?
- Mmm...

In the schoolroom,

above the fireplace.

- Oh...
- It'll cover the hole.

How very prudent, my love.

I shall fetch a nail.

Well, hurry up!

This room needs to be finished!

Tables back, places set and
you need to be scrubbed and de-loused

before the trustees get here!

Oh, uh, I'm so sorry,
I didn't quite catch that.

CHILDREN: Yes, Mrs Bumble.

Two plus three?

- Five, Mrs Bumble.
- Three plus four?

- Seven, Mrs Bumble.
- The Lord's Prayer?

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
in Earth as it is in heaven.

On Earth! On Earth as it is in heaven!

CHILDREN: On Earth as it is in heaven.

Sir Leicester will be calling
on you this afternoon.

Father believes he intends
to ask for your hand.

I see.

- You are to be Lady Dedlock.
- Lf that's the path you choose.

Yeah, of course.
That goes without saying.

Does it?

Are we to keep up
this pretence forever?

- Pretence?
- That I have a choice in the matter.

- Honoria.
- I was in love!

Love, Francis!
Can you even remember the word?

My feelings counted for nothing then,
so why pretend they do now?

Well, I'm sorry, Honoria,
but that's simply not true.

Then, when Sir Leicester calls,
tell him I do not wish to see him.

And that you will return all the money
you have taken from him.

Sever all contact.

(SIGHS) I'm sorry, Father.

I'm not asking that of you.

All I ask is that we stop
the pretence, at least with each other.

I don't know what you want from me.

That we no longer speak of
this union with Sir Leicester

as something wonderful,
something I should be grateful for.

You shouldn't speak like that,

not after all that Father
has done for us.

Do not talk to me of sacrifice
and family duty, Francis.

I may be found wanting
in many things, but not that.

Never that.

It is up, my love. (CHUCKLING)

Come and see that it suits.

Oh, I'm busy, Bumble.
It's not upside-down, is it?

- Mmm.
- No, my precious.

Mr Bounderby looks down at us
from due North as intended.

- (SIGHING)
- Oh.

Do I give them dumplings, Bumble?

Excellent idea, my one true love.

Two each for the trustees,
one each for the children?

More than sufficient.

Very generous.

Once the trustees have seen the manner
in which we run this establishment

and tasted your dumplings,

our promotion is assured.

Will it be, Bumble? You're certain?

Not a single doubt.

- We will be raised up?
- Yes. Yes!

- A new house?
- A maid.

- Oh. New clothes?
- Underclothes.

- Shoes?
- Stockings.

Oh, Bumble!

- And we'll celebrate.
- We'll have a party.

- No, I...
- For three.

- Three?
- You...

You...

...and little Bumble.
- Huh? Oh!

Ooh!

(GROANING)

Fetch the suet, Bumble.

(EXHALES)

Gentlemen, the other board members
are joining us later.

Thank you. Thank you for coming.

Ah, yes.

I have better things to be doing

than sitting with you
in The Three Cripples.

You can spare an hour, surely?

Actually, escaping your sister's madness
for an hour wold be very welcome.

And tomorrow, we shall be family.

Yes.

I do hope we can find a way to become
friends again, Arthur. Real friends.

It would make Amelia very happy.

Me, too.

And you shall prove it
by buying the first drink.

Who knows?

Maybe our invitations
got lost in the post.

Or perhaps they're
having them delivered personally

by one of their footmen.

Well, if they are,
I won't be accepting.

I've got better things to do
than drinking champagne

and waltzing around with some
great lump of lard.

- Not in my hips.
- Champagne sounds nice, though.

Oh, no, I had it once.

- Gave me a terrible wind.
- Oh!

All night I had it.

- I kept waking meself up!
- Stop!

Hello, Bob.

He said I could have
15 minutes for lunch!

Fifteen minutes?

- He's not going soft, is he?
- (CHUCKLING) Hardly.

He said, "I'll dock your wages a
shilling for every minute you're late."

- (LAUGHS)
- So if I'm 15 minutes late,

there won't be
any wages at all this week.

We'd better hurry up then, hadn't we?

You seem very chirpy today.

Do I?

- That's 'cause I'm married to you.
- Here,

hope you're not getting romantic,
I've only got 14 minutes.

- Well...
- Ah, don't even say it.

Here's what you need.

MAN: Ah, good to see you.

I only ever wanted us to be happy.

To be safe.

And if you were to choose one
of those things above the other,

which would you choose?

(DOOR CLOSES)

Ooh! Ooh, ooh, ooh! Ooh, ooh!

They're here, my turtle dove!

MRS BUMBLE: Oh! Line 'em up!
Spoon drill!

And you act as though
you eat as well as this every day.

Children, line up!

Quickly. Let's rehearse.

Now, bow when addressed.

Speak when spoken to.

Spoon drill.

Hold, two, three.

Dip, two, three.

Up, two, three.

Eat, two, three.

(CHILDREN RECITING SPOON DRILL)

Hush.

Now, stay in line.

And stand straight, shoulders back.

(CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY) Uh, coming!

- (DOOR OPENING)
- MR BUMBLE: (CHUCKLING) Ah!

Mrs Tisher, gentlemen, please, come in.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(MR BUMBLE CLEARS THROAT)

Uh, children,

say hello to our esteemed guests.

Welcome, Mr Gradgrind.

Welcome, Mr Bagstock.

Welcome, Reverend Crisparkle.

Welcome, Mrs Tisher.

Welcome, all.

(CHUCKLING) My wife, Mrs Bumble.

Uh, dear, Mr Gradgrind you know.

Of course.

May I also present Mr Bagstock?
Late of Her Majesty's armed forces.

Madam.

- The Reverend Crisparkle.
- Reverend.

- And Mrs Tisher.
- Pleasure, I'm sure.

(STAMMERING) So,
where would you like to start?

- To the dormitory, perhaps?
- Mmm. Perfect.

Follow me.

(MEN LAUGHING AND CHATTING)

- Matthew!
- Cousin.

- When did you get back?
- Last night.

It was too late to call on you.

- Gentlemen.
- I asked them to come.

- Can I ask why?
- Perhaps we should talk privately.

Of course.

So, cousin, it seems you have
something on your mind,

something pressing?

MATTHEW: I'm sorry, Amelia,
but we care for you,

far too much to allow
this marriage to go ahead.

- Really?
- Don't you see?

Once married, all your assets
will be transferred to Mr Compeyson

and that cannot be allowed to happen.

I have the full support of the board

and they in turn
have the support of the shareholders.

- Do they?
- The man is a charlatan.

You know nothing
of his past, of his family.

I can find no one in London
to speak on his behalf.

And yet you are content to hand him
the entire Havisham estate?

It's beyond me.

Gentlemen, can I ask you
to wait outside?

I believe this to be a family matter.

It's about the company, too.

Then, as the owner of that company,
I'd ask you to do as I say.

You have registered your disapproval
of my marriage to Mr Compeyson.

Now, please wait outside.

You may very well be happy, Compeyson,

but things have hardly worked out
the way I planned, have they?

Plans need to change, adapt,
react to circumstances.

- Mmm, really?
- Yes.

You're so clever, aren't you?

All hail Meriwether Compeyson.

(CHUCKLES)

This is why you came back?

You cannot go through with this.
You don't even know the man.

I am simply saying what your
father would say if he was here.

And what right of you
to speak for my father?

I'm family.

And because of that, I have no reason
to say what I do except to protect you.

- From who, Matthew?
- From Meriwether Compeyson.

Even from yourself, if I have to.

You've only known him for a few months.
You were still grieving for your father.

The argument with Arthur,
you were alone, vulnerable...

- And stupid?
- No.

That's what you're thinking, Matthew.

That I'm a silly little girl

whose head was turned by the first man
who paid her any attention.

Quite the opposite, cousin.

I think you are the most
remarkable woman that I know.

All I am asking is that you stop,
just for a second,

ignore your heart because I have
no doubt that you've given it to him,

and use your head, Amelia.

Like your father would have done.

Like a Havisham.

(SIGHS)

But I love him.

I know you do.

And you can still be with him,

even marry him one day,

but not now, not this quickly.

I urge caution but I do so
with no ulterior motive.

Nothing to gain, I want nothing,
I do it only because

I care about you.

As I have always cared about you.

I'm still the same Matthew.

You once called me your North Star,

the one you trusted above all others.

Trust me now.

So what will you do
with the Havisham fortune

once you get your
grubby little hands on it?

(EXHALES) Enjoy it.

Gambling? Prostitutes?

(CHUCKLING) Perhaps.

And if you're good, I may throw you
a bone from time to time.

Or perhaps I shall throw you a bone.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

You know, Havisham,
I've missed this side of you.

- And what side would that be?
- Arrogant.

- Smug.
- Ah, perhaps it's just breeding.

Something you wouldn't understand.

But what have you
to be a smug about, Arthur?

Wouldn't you like to know?

And why would you invite me
for a drink in the middle of the day?

ARTHUR: More ale!

Wait, where are you going?

I may be wrong. Everyone may be wrong.

But please, Amelia,

at the very least,
postpone the wedding.

Insist on a longer engagement.

If Compeyson is the gentleman
you believe him to be,

then why would he refuse?

But everything has been arranged.

We can say that you were taken ill.

That it's a postponement.

Nothing more.

Matthew! What a delightful surprise.

I doubt that.

Oh, my darling,
look troubled.

I have told her
she must call this wedding off.

Matthew, please.

Well, of course you have.

I wouldn't expect anything else.

So, you've returned
from the colonies a success, I take it,

- with an enormous fortune?
- No.

I am simply here to prevent my cousin
from making a terrible mistake.

- The mistake of not marrying you?
- No.

- Meriwether!
- Come, Matthew,

I've heard you're a man
who speaks the truth.

I like to think so.

Then, as a man who speaks the truth,
can I ask you to explain to your cousin

why you suddenly decided not to stay
to help her with the brewery

- but to travel to the colonies instead?
- You're twisting things.

- That is not what this is about.
- I don't understand.

- Your cousin told me...
- In confidence, sir!

A gentleman would be
entitled to that confidence,

not a snake who calls on a man's fianc?e

the day before his wedding
in order to steal her from him!

Your cousin left after confiding in me

that he was in love with you.

He told me he was going
to the colonies to earn his fortune

so he could come back
to ask for your hand in marriage.

Is this true?

- Yes...
- No doubt

hearing of our marriage,
he came back to put a stop to it,

- so he could have you for himself.
- No!

Do you deny
you wanted Amelia for yourself?

How could I?

He said I shouldn't trust you.

I spoke the truth.
None of us know who he is.

Then I suggest you ask Mr Jaggers.

- He's your family lawyer, is he not?
- Jaggers?

He searched my background,
quite thoroughly, by all accounts.

He had no right to do
such a thing without my permission.

Why didn't you tell me?

Because, while it's clear your brother
wants to steal the estate

and your cousin wants you for himself,
my concern,

my only concern, has been for you.

(SIGHS) But I am tired of it, Amelia.
Sick of giving you nothing but love

and being repaid
by those around you with mistrust.

Let them have what they want.
Call off the wedding.

(SIGHS) See what you've done?

Meriwether!

- Please, don't leave.
- Amelia, please.

- Just listen to me.
- I have listened to you.

But all you've done is lied,

put your own self-interest
above my feelings.

Why would you think I could
ever love you in that way?

I'd hoped that perhaps...

My own cousin, my brother.

Not one of you wants me to be happy!
To marry the man I love.

Well, I shall,
and damn you all to hell!

Neither you nor Arthur nor Jaggers

nor anyone who speaks ill of my husband

will be welcome at Satis House
ever again. Now, get out.

All of you, get out!

My poor love.

Who can I ever trust but you?

DRIVER: Whoa, there.

I hope you don't mind me
feeding the children first?

Of course not, Mrs Bumble.

It is most refreshing
to see the children put first.

We try, Reverend.

Don't we, children?

CHILDREN: Yes, Mrs Bumble.

You're not too soft, I hope, Bumble?

A child without discipline
is a carriage without a driver.

(STAMMERING) No, sir. I do assure you,

these children
are no strangers to discipline.

MR BUMBLE: Are you, children?
CHILDREN: No, Mr Bumble.

But they must be educated,
language, mathematics.

And educated they will be,
Mr Gradgrind.

Three plus four, children?

Seven, Mrs Bumble.

Kindness, discipline and education
are all paramount, of course,

but do their souls not need to be fed?

Children?

CHILDREN: Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

on Earth as it is in heaven.

(SIGHS)

(DOGS BARKING)

Well?

Compeyson came back.

She took his side.

We must resolve ourselves to it,
there's nothing more to be done.

- Well, there must be something.
- No, Arthur, there isn't.

She trusts no one but him.

None of us are welcome in Satis House
ever again. I'm leaving tonight.

No! No.

I couldn't bear to be here
for the wedding.

But what's to become of me?

I'm sorry, Arthur.

If only your father were here.

(CHILDREN SLURPING)

Hmm. Mmm-hmm.

If we are considered
for the new position,

Mrs Bumble and I would hope to maintain

the very high standards
you have seen before you this evening.

It is not the paint on the walls
or the food in the belly

which will allow these children
to enter society.

It is the examples that they are given.

I couldn't agree more, Mr Gradgrind.

Mr Bumble is forever
making an example of himself.

- And backbone! Discipline!
- Hmm. Discipline!

- Respect.
- Respect.

(MR BUMBLE GROANING)

OLIVER: Please, sir?

I want some more.

(BREATHES DEEPLY)

(INHALES)

- I wish you didn't have to go.
- It's for the last time.

Tomorrow you will be my wife
and I will never leave your side again.

GATEKEEPER: Goodnight, sir.

(TUTTING)

Dear, dear.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

Out, out, out. Out, go!

Get away!

Bumble, in.

(DOOR SLAMS)

(SOBBING)

(COMPEYSON WHISTLING HAPPILY)