Dickensian (2015–2016): Season 1, Episode 6 - Episode #1.6 - full transcript

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

I'm arresting you
for the murder of Jacob Marley.

- What's he on about?
- No, it's a mistake.

- Come along now.
- It's a stupid mistake. It's got to be!

- I'll get Ma!
- No, no! No.

Please, please.

Please, it is her wedding day.

Now, don't you worry, love.

I will settle this somehow,

and I'll be back here
to walk you up the aisle.

(SOBS) Promise?



Promise.

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

MARTHA: Pa!

So, what now?

What are you going to do?

I'll be needing a clean shirt.

Yes, of course.

On Christmas Eve,
your employer, Mr Jacob Marley,

was murdered between
the hours of 9:00 and 10:30.

Could you tell me
where you were at that hour?

Out walking.

Walking?

BOB: Looking to see if the market
had left anything behind.

I hadn't taken home
what I'd hoped, you see.



Oh.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Thank you.

My wages had been docked

by Mr Marley. Two shillings.

Did Mr Marley explain why he did that?

He said my work wasn't up to scratch.

BUCKET: Wasn't it?

That's what he said.

That must have made you very angry, Bob.

Yes.

BUCKET: This walk of yours,

did you encounter anyone?

Exchange season's greetings?

Not that I remember.

No one at all?

Think, Bob.

This puts us
in a very difficult position,

with no one to vouch
for your whereabouts

at the time Mr Marley was murdered.

A man you had good reason
to be angry with

that very same day.

You see my dilemma?

I suppose, and yes, I was angry with him
for docking my wages,

but why would you think
I would murder him?

- (DRAWER CLOSING)
- BUCKET: There was a loan

shown here in Jacob Marley's ledger,

for the sum of one pound,
18 shillings and sixpence.

A loan to you.

I say "was," 'cause some time
after Mr Marley's death,

that very same entry had been
crossed out by another hand.

Yours, I take it?

I hope we ain't missed
all the good seats.

Well, if we do, we know why, don't we?

I told you to hurry up!

- Oh, thanks for coming.
- (CHURCH BELL CLANGING)

(PEOPLE MURMURING)

BUCKET: And in his journal,

Mr Marley had made an entry

for the evening he was killed

suggesting an arranged meeting, perhaps?

Just an initial...

"C."

Cratchit?

- (CHURCH BELL RINGING)
- Where are they?

Martha will just be wanting
to make an entrance.

(CHURCH BELL CONTINUES RINGING)

(SIGHS)

The department of The Detective
that I represent, Bob,

has one very clear purpose:

To reveal the perpetrator of this murder

by establishing the motive for it

and the opportunity to carry it out.

The loan you have erased
from the ledger gives me a motive,

while the entry of "C"
in the victim's journal,

added to your uncorroborated
Christmas Eve walk,

provides the opportunity.

It's enough for a court to convict.

I did not kill Mr Marley!

BUCKET: I make no judgement
on the rights or wrongs of it, Bob.

My investigation leaves me in no doubt

as to the nature of Jacob Marley,

and I can only imagine the strain

of trying to provide
for a family at Christmas,

under the weight of a loan
you couldn't afford.

No one would blame a man for buckling
under the burden of all that.

When my Emily was expecting Martha,

we were trying to get our own place,
but we didn't have the money.

So she pressed her mother's
garnet necklace into my hand,

watched me pawn it.

So, you see, that loan was to buy her
another necklace.

Just to thank her for being
the best wife and mother

a man could ever hope for.

There's no shame in a man
protecting his family, Bob.

No shame at all.

But a murder is a murder.

And the evidence I have is damning.

I'm sorry.

Wait! Wait!
You need to fetch Mr Scrooge.

Ask him to bring my ledger.

- (DOG WHIMPERING)
- (CHUCKLES)

(DOOR OPENING)

A gentleman for you, Miss.

Mr Compeyson.

Oh.

Shall I show him in, then?

Yes. Of course.

Yes, Miss.

Mr Compeyson, Miss.

Thank you, Mary, that will be all.

(GROWLS AND BARKS)

- How can I...
- Please.

I must speak.

Um, there are things I had to...
I need to say.

I owe you an apology.

I should never have spoken as I did,
should never have used those words,

and I can only beg your forgiveness.

- There's no need to apologise...
- You are too gracious, madam.

Such behaviour in a gentleman
is quite insupportable

and it will never happen again.

Now, should I be any possible use
in your business affairs,

do feel at liberty to call upon me.

(DOOR SLAMS SHUT)

(CHILDREN LAUGHING)

(MAN GROANS)

Well, someone needed to put
some fire in you, Bumble.

I'm all eagerness to please, my angel.

You're all prattle and chatter,
all talk and no action.

Act, Bumble, act!
Make me proud, earn my gratitude.

How might you show it, my sweet?

Just write the letter, Bumble.

Win the Board. Raise us up.

Gain the position we deserve,
and who knows where it may lead.

Mmm-hmm. Mmm.

SCROOGE: You think that
I've got nothing better to do

than to trot along over here with you,
during business hours?

Well, Inspector!

You may have plenty
of time to waste, but I...

Cratchit?

What are you doing here?

So, it was you, was it?

When the worm turned,
it did for old Jacob, eh?

The latest entry, sir. You'll see it.

What are you talking about?

What?

On whose authorisation?

Mr Marley made me the loan, sir.

And you thought to renegotiate terms

without the agreement
of the surviving partner?

Then you must surely have consulted
with Jacob Marley's ghost?

Hmm? Is that it?

I just needed a month's grace.

What exactly has he done?

Cratchit has taken it upon himself

to move his debt from Marley's ledger
to his own,

reducing the immediate burden
and amortising it over a lengthier term.

- Reducing what he owes?
- Hmm.

Increasing it, in fact,
by a sparing margin.

BOB: It seemed right.
SCROOGE: Right?

What do you know of right?

Jacob Marley had to be dead
in order for you to do this.

Well, if you think you
have your man, Inspector,

snap his neck and be quick about it.

I'll have to go about finding
and training a new clerk.

(DOOR OPENING)

(DOOR CLOSING)

- (CHURCH BELL CLANGING)
- What's keeping her?

If I knew that...

Keep him calm, keep everyone calm.

How do I do that?

Summat's definitely up.

(WHISPERING INDISTINCTLY)

I've got to get Martha to the church!

You must know
that's not going to happen.

Mr Scrooge told you, I never stole.

He also took great pains to point out

that Mr Marley had to be dead
for you to change the books

and that any further alteration
could only be to avoid discovery.

I didn't kill him.

There is nothing more I can say.

All that matters now is Martha.

She is alone on her wedding day
and I made her a promise.

But a father's promise
to his little girl, that is sacred.

I can see you are a good man.

If you have any doubt,
any doubt at all,

please let me keep my promise.

After that, well, I, I give you my word.

I will be back here,

you can do your worst.

- She's not coming, is she?
- (CHURCH BELL RINGING)

Why's she not coming?

- Ma!
- Why are you still here?

He promised he'd be back.

What's going on? Where's your father?

- The police came.
- (DOOR SLAMMING)

- What?
- They took him.

- Why?
- Just a few questions

- about Mr Marley's business.
- Pa!

- That's all.
- EMILY: What sort of questions?

Nothing you need worry about.
Not today of all days.

(EXHALES) I promised, didn't I?

All right, come on, love,
let's get you to that church, eh?

What could it mean?
That he never actually meant it?

So you like him now?

He did say he was out of his depth.

He could be scared.

Well, do you want to see him again?

- Yes.
- Then you know what to do.

- Take matters into my own hands.
- (CHUCKLES)

Boy!

Don't turn around.

(GASPS) She's here?
You still got the ring?

- Yes.
- Okay.

Look at that dress!
It's not the best colour, is it?

It drains her. Washes her out.

I think she looks lovely.

Well, you don't have my eye, do you?

Just one thing missing.

(CHUCKLES)

Your "something borrowed".

Right, you get in, love.
We'll be right behind you.

(CHUCKLES)

- Pa, before...
- Oh, like I said, a mistake.

We're here now, aren't we?
That's all that matters.

(WEDDING MARCH PLAYING)

I'm so proud of you.

MR VENUS: I'm not sure I

completely understand
this detecting of yours, Mr Bucket.

You have your man, yet

let him walk away.

He gave me his word, Mr Venus.

I'm sure he'd say anything
to spare the noose

and the dance for all to see.

You trust him?

- I wouldn't exactly say that.
- Well, then why take the risk?

- You pity him?
- More than that.

There's something about him.

Something honest.

An honest killer.

Jacob Marley was,
by all reports, a bad man.

His killer could well be a good one.

And this you can tell from the evidence?

I can make a strong case.

But this

invites me to be circumspect.

And will you follow your nose,
or the evidence?

Without an alibi, I have no choice.

It's not looking good for him.

(CROWD CHEERING)

I promise you this,
I will always work hard,

and I won't waste money and I'll save,
and then one day, I'll have enough.

Enough money to buy you a watch,

and then you need never ever
be that late again.

- I do love you.
- I know.

(CROWD CHEERING)

It'll be you next.

Um...

- But why would you say that?
- Because it needed to be said.

- You were doing so well.
- Have a little faith, Arthur.

Faith?

You ruined it.
She'll not want to see you now.

A note from Miss Havisham, sir.

COMPEYSON: Oh, thank you.

- A moment, please?
- Of course, mister.

I am invited to discuss my investment
in the Havisham brewery tonight.

(FIDDLE MUSIC PLAYING)

Table!

Keep walking.

(PEOPLE CHATTING)

There ain't a drop of gin.

- The Cripples, then?
- Yeah.

Just, just one thing, Fan.

- Hmm?
- I, er,

I seem to have mislaid me purse.

Yeah, well, don't think
I'll be standing you drinks all night.

No.

Okay, quiet, please.

CROWD: Speech! Speech!

Oh, oh, well, I suppose,

as the father of the bride.

Oh.

Well, this is just the beginning
for the two of you.

Now, what's to come, it won't be easy.

It'll be hard.

It'll be cold.

But there's one thing
that keeps you warm,

gets you through it.

It's each other.

WOMAN: Aww.
MAN: Quite right.

BOB: Bound together.

Soon, you'll have your own little 'uns.

Maybe even your own little girl.

(ALL CHUCKLING)

You'll hold her in your arms,
terrified you'll drop her.

And then, one day, well,

she's not your little girl any more.

She's all grown up.

So pretty.

And your heart will go again.

And you're giving her away.

The proudest pa in the whole wide world.

And you wonder where all the time went.

All those years.

(STUTTERING) So, remember always

to hold on to those moments.

Every hour. Every day.

- To the bride and groom.
- ALL: To the bride and groom.

(CLAPPING AND CHEERING)

He's coming.

Something is in the air.
Even Frances has an admirer.

Miss Havisham. Honoria, there you are.

I have the honour of presenting
Sir Leicester Dedlock.

A gentleman in whose charming company
I spent many a happy hour

- while I was in the country.
- You flatter me, Miss Barbary.

I rather think it was your presence
that brightened our days.

- Might we join you, ladies?
- Oh, I must be going I'm afraid.

I have a business meeting
to prepare for.

Good luck.

Thank you.

(CHILDREN LAUGHING)

I've seen the same thing
with ol' Mr Wemmick.

Grey it was, like death.
He lost a leg, of course.

Well, I warned him. Did he listen?

They never do, do they?
I mean, I've tried my best.

Maybe Mr Wegg has no need
of his other leg.

I suppose if you've the time,

there's no harm in taking another look,
is there?

Oh, so long as it ain't no imposition.

Step right this way,
if you would, Mrs Gamp.

Oh!

I think you'll be most appreciative,
my cherry blossom.

(SIGHS)

Is this the best you can do, Bumble?

Hmm?

Ramblings, meanderings...

(STUTTERING) There is some element
of the circumlocution...

Such shaky, spidery scrawl.

How is that meant to impress?
How is that meant to elevate?

Oh...

Perhaps it's the weight of expectation,
my pudding.

- I can only do my best.
- Your best is never good enough,

is it, Bumble?

You offer hope of satisfaction
but, once again,

I am left to minister to my own needs.

(STAMPS FOOT) Ah!

I better get this back where it belongs
before I break it.

Now, what can I do?

You, my girl, can tell me
where your father is,

and what's really been going on.

This gives me no pleasure, Bob.

BOB: I see that, Inspector.

And, well, considering everything,
you've been very decent.

(CELL DOOR CLOSES)

Oh.

Look away, Silas,
this ain't gonna be pretty.

- Oh!
- Keep looking away.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
Oh, mortification.

Oh, God.

I'm not gonna lose it, am I?
I can't lose it.

Don't worry, Silas.
You got me, ain't ya?

I know what I'm doing.

What will you need?

It's dirty work, turns the stomach.

Perhaps a little gin before I start?

And Fanny could use one, too.

EMILY: I need to see the inspector, now.
Look, I'm not going anywhere

- until you get me the inspector.
- Calm down, ma'am.

You get me the inspector,
do you hear me?

- Mrs Cratchit.
- EMILY: Where is he?

You can't think that Bob done this.

I have ample evidence, motive,
and opportunity, madam,

and your husband has no alibi
for the time Mr Marley was killed.

He was at home with me.

On his own admission, not all night.

He went out, er, but he was...

He was back by 9:00.

I'd just brought the coal in,
and I heard the bells chime.

When's he supposed
to have killed Mr Marley?

Between 9:00 and 10:30.

Well, he can't have then, can he?

Apparently not,
if I'm to believe your word.

The word of a wife.

You have to.

He's a good man. He's a kind man.

There's no violence in him.

He's never raised a hand,
not even his voice, in all our years.

My husband isn't a murderer.

- Madam, there's a caller for you.
- Thank you, Mary.

We'll be seeing more
of Sir Leicester, then?

FRANCES: Definitely.

A man of his means and influence
makes an ideal suitor.

- You're sure of his interest?
- Certain.

He's eager to call on you officially,
and discuss the matter with Papa.

- Me?
- Of course.

I have my duties, and you have yours.

It's an ideal match,
and he has a genuine affection for you.

- Yes, but James...
- Is wholly unsuitable.

His prospects are as poor
as his character,

his hoped-for promotion, a fantasy.

Sir Leicester's wealth and connections
will prove invaluable

in restoring our name and interest
to their rightful state.

His timely arrival
can only be the work of Providence.

(CELL DOOR OPENING)

Better go before I change my mind.

(DOOR CLOSES)

- Mr Compeyson.
- Miss Havisham.

This is my dear cousin, Matthew Pocket,

- just returned from his travels.
- Sir.

I heard the sad news of Mr Havisham
and came as soon as I could.

Why, how fortunate for your cousin.

Mr Pocket is my oldest friend.

You could say he's my North Star.

We have much to discuss.
I know we were supposed to meet.

- I'm sorry.
- Think nothing of it.

Another time.

Mr Pocket.

(BARKING)

# Home, home

# Home sweet home

# There's no place like home

# No, there's no place like home #

Where'd you two get to, then?

(SINGING CONTINUES)

What's this?

The necklace.

Nell opened up, so I could sell it.

- Oh, but...
- No.

It was a lovely thought,

but I won't be in debt to Scrooge.

Not for baubles.

So, another name off your list,
Mr Bucket.

It suits my purpose for now, Mr Venus.
That's all.

His wife just lied to give him an alibi,
and that's rather interesting.

Let Bob Cratchit enjoy the moment.

I have him in my sights,

and if he is Jacob Marley's killer...

You will have your man.

(BUCKET LAUGHS)

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)