Father Brown (2013–…): Season 3, Episode 14 - The Deadly Seal - full transcript

A mysterious visitor to the confession box informs Father Brown that choleric Bishop Talbot will be murdered so Father Brown joins Talbot at a shooting party where a shot is indeed fired though the victim is the seemingly innocent Albert Davies. The bishop had argued with actor Peter Redhill over his divorce and there is certainly intrigue among Redhill and his fellow players whilst the bishop seems to inexplicably own a large collection of banned plays. In his investigation the father finds that the play's the thing and also uncovers a bizarre pact.

And on Thursday, I took the Lord's
name in vain when I got a splinter.

I am sorry for this
and all of my sins.

Ego te absolve a peccatis tuis
in nomine Patris et Filii et...

One more thing.

By 11 in the morning tomorrow,
Bishop Talbot will be shot dead.

How do you know this?

Oh, there you are, Father.

The bishop's office
has just telephoned.

Bishop Talbot won't be coming to deliver the
Corpus Christi homily tomorrow after all.

Would you believe it?
He's off shooting birds.


Bentley Duke has invited me
to go shooting on his estate.

Bentley Duke? What, the
theatrical impresario?

But, My Lord, you loathe the theatre.

Yeah, well, I do.

However, Duke has offered to fund

all the repairs to the
tower at St George.



He has a house nearby.

Says he finds St George...


Well, I would love to use his
ill-gotten gains for better use.

So, tomorrow, God willing,
we shall seal the deal.

Will you be alone together?


There'll be other heathens
of the theatre world.

And dear Lady Felicia,

thank goodness.

My Lord, I wonder if you might rearrange
your meeting with Mr Duke?

Why on earth should I do that?

I may not have told you before how
much my congregation look forward
to your homily on Corpus Christi.

Well, tell me now.

Well, for many of them,

it is simply the highlight
of the church calendar.

Oh, I see.

Well, being stuck with your tedious
witterings all year round,

I'm not surprised.

But that's still no reason for putting
the whole future of St George in jeopardy.

But, My Lord, shooting?

It's like golf.

It livens up a good country walk.

Yes, but, with respect, My Lord,

golf does not involve the
slaughter of God's creatures.

Controlling the bird population doesn't
trouble the Vatican, Brown.

As you well know.

But, My Lord, why not meet Mr Duke
after your homily at St Mary's?

Or at the theatre?

Are you all right, Brown?

Perfectly well.

In that case, get out of my way.

I have a course record to beat.

Bah! Eh?

I'm so thrilled you
could join us, Bish.

I only hope I don't embarrass
myself, Mr Duke.

Isn't life full of surprises?

I always assumed you devil dodgers
disapproved of cold-blooded killing.

And then two of you sign up for this.


Your colleague.

I'm very grateful to
you for organising this.

Grateful enough to tell
me what you're up to?

As you know, I will always drop
everything to support the bishop.


Well, it's my goddaughter
Natasha you have to thank.

That's her, talking to Bentley Duke.

She got me on the list, too.

She seems to have Bentley
wrapped round her finger.

So, why are you here?

To meet Bentley Duke. I loved acting.

I was in all the school productions.

So, you want to talk to
him about the theatre?

No. I want a part in
one of his productions.

~ My Lord.
~ What in the devil's name
is the meaning of this?

Well... it's a peculiar
quirk of fate.

Lady Felicia insisted
I accompany her.

Didn't you, Lady Felicia?

If you do anything to jeopardise
my discussion with Mr Duke,

I shall have you strung from
the crypt at St George

with a shotgun up your...

~ Darling Felicia!
~ Oh!

Hello! I'm Natasha.

Father Brown.

I am indebted to you.

Don't be silly.

Any friend of my wonderful
godmother is a friend of mine.

Natasha has the lead role in Room
For Three? at Cheltenham Rep.

A new play?

Yes. It's rather naughty.

Then I shall be booking
tickets immediately.

Felicia said you were fun!

Natasha, you unforgivable liar!

You told me you were bringing
your godmother, not your sister!

Oh, Bentley!

Bentley Duke.

~ Lady Felicia Montague.
~ Delighted.

And you must be this spectacular
girl's, what, grandfather?


Father Brown.

I'm very grateful that you
could accommodate me today.

What Natasha wants, Natasha gets.

I must say, though, your boss looked
less than thrilled to see you.

Yes, I remind him of the
paperwork left on his desk.

So, the Cotswolds have
enticed you out of London?

When London bites, I come out to
the country to lick my wounds.

Your murder weapon.

No. Thank you.


Oh, dear.

Natasha, darling, I need you to check
whether my barrel is straight enough.

The Lord Chamberlain,
the theatre censor,

banned Bentley's last production
from the West End.

Decided it was too racy.
Bentley lost thousands.

Who's that?

Peter Redhill.

Oh, yes.

He acts, he directs and
he's a bit of a dish.

~ Isn't he married to a member
of the royal family?
~ Yes.

Which is why his affair with Natasha
was the talk of the press.

Not the press I read, evidently.





Got it!


~ I've got some catching up to do.
~ I wasn't aware it was a competition.


Oh, dear...

So, Bishop Talbot, do you think adulterers
should be treated like murderers?

I think marriage is
sacred, Mr Redhill.

~ Well, that is not quite the same thing.
~ Peter...

You said in The Times, and I quote,

that "we should treat the ending of a marriage
as seriously as the death of a person."

I did indeed.

And then you singled me out
for destroying my marriage.

The newspapers singled you out
when they put pictures of you

~ cavorting with your mistress
on their front pages!
~ So, I am a murderer.

Well, don't we execute
murderers in this country?

Go on, then. Shoot me!

Does the drinking help you
with your aim, Mr Redhill?

Do you find being a righteous prig
helps you sleep at night, Bishop?

Who's this, your lapdog?

Sober up you, fool.

There's only one fool here, Bentley.

Good work, Davies.

Thank you, My Lord.


Drive over. Follow me.

Is the next drive far, Mr Duke?

Just over here.

Oh, pooh drops!

Is it entirely safe shooting here?

No. But as the London critics
love to point out,

I do have something
of a reckless streak.

Mr Duke... We should talk about
the tower at St George.

~ Privately.
~ Oh, absolutely.

But, first, call of
nature and all that.

Of course.

~ Awful man.
~ My Lord...

Oh, do run along, Brown!

Have you gone deaf, Brown?

My Lord, you need to leave now.

~ Please.
~ Have you gone utterly mad, Brown?

~ Down!
~ What on earth...?!

My Lord?

I've been shot.

Where is the pain?

No pain.

Just numbness...

Ah, Inspector Sullivan.
Did anyone see the sniper?


But the offending cartridge tells me
it was someone in this shooting party.

Problem is, you were all
separated at the time.

How long was the deceased
in your service?

Who, Davies?

Five years. Ten, maybe.

It seems he had an altercation with
Mr Redhill shortly before his death.


Regular theatre-goer, was he?


Never set foot in the theatre.


Inspector Sullivan...

Forgive me, surely the
shot was meant for me?

You? I don't think so.

Father Brown said he saw the
gun fired from over there,

along with this cartridge
still smoking.

The gunman, or woman, would have
to have been virtually blind

to have missed you by that margin.

Davies was the target.

No, but...

~ Brown!
~ My Lord?

Moments before the shot, Father
Brown told me I had to leave.

He was certain I was in trouble.
Weren't you, Brown?

Is this true, Brown?


I haven't got time for this.

Mr Redhill...

Where's your tongue, man?

Please, forgive me, My Lord.


He didn't set the world
alight, my husband.

But he was a good man.



God will hold your hand
through this, Ethel.

Thank you, Father.

Can you manage, financially?

I've been prudent all my life.

Done extra work. Put money aside.

No, it's the loneliness
I'm worried about.

Albert wasn't a talker.

But he did just sit and listen.

Landlord at the old Red Lion's
going to miss him, an' all.

Albert was a teetotaller when I
tied the knot for him and Ethel.

Well, that's marriage for you!

So, who's the killer, then?

Well, assuming it's a member
of the shooting party,

I think we can eliminate Lady
Felicia from the suspect list.

Not really her style.

Which means it must be one
of "the theatre heathen".

You want to sit in on rehearsals?

Well, I wish to follow
your lead, Mr Duke,

in building a bridge between
the church and the theatre.

What bridge have I ever
built with you lot?

By offering to fund the
rebuilding of St George's.

Your boss was never
going to see a penny.

~ I got him on that shoot purely for sport.
~ Sport?

To wind up Peter Redhill. Our
very own lapsed Catholic boy.

Reminds me. I must ring your boss to
tell him that, sadly, the deal's off.

Do you have a grudge
against Bishop Talbot?

He peddles hypocrisy
and lies. You all do.

While theatre is all about the truth.

We reflect reality.

You disguise and distort it.

Thank you for dropping by.

I was very sorry to hear about your
recent West End show being closed.

Yes, I'm sure you were.

I read the script of
A Rather Private Affair

and found it very enjoyable.

The scene where the priest confesses

his infatuation to the mother-in-law

was very amusing.

So, this is why the bishop calls
you his "blackest sheep".

What would he say if he knew
you were here with me now?

I imagine he would disapprove.


In fact...

.. he would be furious.

Would he, now?

It's lovely. But I think you can
make her even more arch here.

Sorry to interrupt, Peter.

Our friend Father Brown's going
to be popping in and out of
rehearsals from time to time.

Hope that's all right.


I promise I will be as quiet as the
proverbial church mouse, Mr Redhill.

Aren't you having enough
fun at my expense?

~ Don't be so paranoid.
I'm doing you a favour.
~ A favour?

Your friend the bishop will be livid.

Almost as livid as you must have been
when you missed him from five yards.

How dare you!

Right. Let's run that
last sequence again.

You are a marvel, Father.

Lady Felicia! Don't tell me Bentley
Duke's given you a part already?

~ No. But he's very keen to see my passion.
~ I'm sure he is.

So, I've offered to help
out with some fundraising.

I've no need to ask why you're here.

Natasha's not involved, is she?

I think it is the work of a man.

Thank goodness for that.

Oh, gosh, I hope it wasn't Peter.

Where would you like
to go from, Peter?

We've just left scene
two and go to where...


Room For Three?


It's a frightfully funny play.

You see, Peter's character
is unhappily married

to this awful woman.

And they go away to this
hotel on a golfing holiday

where Peter meets Natasha, who's
staying in the next room.

And then the two of them,
well, you know...

~ Get on?
~ Exactly.

But, then, Peter hurts his back
playing golf and is bedbound.

So then, it's all about doors
opening and doors closing

and whether his wife will find
out and catch them at it.

Take your time!

I heard every word. She's awful!

What it's really about is whether
Peter and Natasha love each other

or if it's all just a bit of fun.

I see...

A most unfortunate
sequence of events.

It all began with a watering can.

How dreadful!

Listen, we've got 43 minutes
before she's back from lunch.

My wife is nothing if
not a creature of habit.

Oh, darling!

You imagining your first
performance, perchance?

I am.

Your goddaughter is a natural.

Isn't she?

It's so good to catch up.

We used to see so much of each other.

She'd come up nearly every holidays,
until she was about 14.

She had a family in the area.

Oh? Who?

Just an uncle, actually.

Winston Grater.

Winston... Yes. Moved to Cirencester.

~ You knew him?
~ A regular at St Mary's.

I still get a Christmas card.


Lady Felicia?

Well, you don't have to tell
me, if you don't want to.

That man did vile...

vile things to her.

You understand?

She was just a girl.

It was so awful.

I mean, she did tell her parents.
They didn't believe her.

Didn't believe who?

Inspector Sullivan.

I might have known you'd have
wormed your way in here, Father.

Are you here to buy tickets for
the performance, Inspector?

No. I have some more questions
for Peter Redhill.

He's at lunch. And rehearsals don't
begin again until half-past three.


Have you established a deeper link
between Mr Redhill and the bishop?

If I have, rest assured, you'll
be the last to hear, Father.

Because, if Mr Redhill wanted
to kill anyone in the woods,

it would have been Bentley Duke.

Why is that?

Because the love of his life
is now in Mr Duke's arms.

I'm sure that's no news
to you, Inspector.

A sensible career move
on her part, I'm sure.

Oh, Bishop Talbot is looking for you.

He's been insisting that
he was the real target.

You jumping on him must
have unhinged him.

It certainly would have unhinged me.

I was baffled by your
behaviour in the woods.

But, suddenly, this
morning I understood.

You heard in confessional
that I was to be shot.

Am I right?

Well, the seal is... sacrosanct.

However, you were prepared to
act according to what you heard.

And for that, of course,
I am grateful.

But my would-be assassin
is still at large.

And because Inspector Sullivan
doesn't seem interested,

I'm sure the good Lord,
in all His wisdom,

would forgive you if...

.. you dropped a hint who it is.


I couldn't help noticing
that you have a collection

of stage play manuscripts.

Don't Kiss Me, I'm From Surrey.

This was banned for blasphemy.

~ How did you get it?
~ Brown, this is highly important.



Highly controversial.


I had no idea, My Lord, that you
had an interest in the theatre.

Oh, the Lord Chamberlain
and I are old friends.

He sends me all the
latest play texts.

May I ask why?

He values my opinion.

Now, look, could we get back
to the matter in hand?

Who was it, Brown?

Would you mind if I borrowed
Don't Kiss Me, I'm From Surrey?

I'm very keen to read it.

Would you mind?

Peter Redhill might well have
had reason to kill the bishop.

But he's a crack shot. Even when
drunk, he wouldn't have missed.

Bentley Duke, on the other
hand, is so wayward,

he could have missed the bishop,
even from that range.

But why would Bentley Duke have
wanted to kill the bishop?

Don't tell me you're stuck, Father.

I am.


I am stuck.

Go back to the scene of the crime.

I do so regularly, in my mind.

And on every occasion
I return empty-handed.

You know, some people say I
have my head in the clouds.

I wouldn't dare comment
on your personality.

Your calves, on the other hand...


There you are!

The scene of the crime...

~ Of course!
~ What?

Never has the phrase been more apt.

~ It was a scene...
~ Was it?

I was assigned a role.

My character was there to distract
from what was really happening.

Inspector Sullivan was right.

Davies was the intended target.

~ Sid...
~ Mm-hm?

I need you to go to the pub.

Right. Any in particular?

Red Lion.

I need you to talk to Davies'
old drinking chums.

Find out if it really was marriage
that drove him to drink.

What about Lady F?

You have her blessing.


It's a tough job, but
someone's got to do it.

~ You want protection?
~ Yes.

I thought having someone covering your
back, so to speak, was a perk of the job.

Inspector, this is a serious matter.

The person who tried to kill me
in those woods will try again.

I am convinced.

Look, as I've already advised,

you shouldn't read anything into
what Father Brown says or does.

This has nothing to do with
Father Brown any more.

This morning, I received a phone
call which has convinced me someone
in those woods wanted me dead!

All right, it wasn't marriage
that drove Davies to drink.

It was gambling debts.

Our little Davies
was an active member

of the Kembleford underground
horse-betting fraternity.

Which is not an easy thing to say on five pints
of Stoat's Tipple, I can tell you that.

A week before he died,

Davies put a small fortune
on a dead cert at Kempton.

But guess what? It fell at the first.

But here's the thing. Davies
was completely skint.

Everybody knew it.

~ So, where did he get the money for the bet?
~ Ah-ha...

Your embroideries are wonderful.

It's just a hobby.

You should never play
down your passions.

That was Albert's favourite.

I made that for our silver
wedding anniversary.

~ Have you ever considered
selling any of these?
~ No!

Who'd want any of those things?

Plenty of people.

And they'd pay a pretty
penny, I'm sure.

I might buy one myself.

You don't say!

What am I saying, how rude of
me? These are deeply personal.

And it's not as if you need the
money, what with all your savings.

Well, if there's one that
takes your fancy, Father,

I might be open to persuasion.

No, Ethel. I was wrong to suggest it.

The thing is...

.. I do need the money.

Why? What happened?

Now, there's a man on a mission.

I recognised the bicycle.
A visit of compassion?

One does what one can.

See, I had a shilling bet with
Goodfellow that you were really here

because you'd found out about Davies
stealing all Ethel's savings.

I bet another shilling that,
having spoken to Ethel,

you'd head straight for Laceman's
Sewing Factory to check her alibi.

Might she have sneaked into
the woods, stolen a cartridge

and shot her husband?


Let me save you a journey, Father.

12 women at the sewing factory
gave me sworn statements

that Ethel never left her
machine that morning.

She didn't do it.

I see.

Oh, if it's any consolation,

I've spent most of this investigation
down a blind alley myself.

You see, I really thought Davies
was the intended victim.

But now, thanks to your
bishop, I'm back on track.

All right, Sergeant, now
we've got our motive,

let's go and get our man.

We should be just in time for
the final dress rehearsal.


Revenge? For what?

For Bishop Talbot wiping out
a large chunk of your fortune.

Well, go on, then, Inspector.

I warn you, though, spotting holes
in stories is how I made my fortune.

The Lord Chamberlain closed down
your recent West End production,

A Rather Private Affair,

after just two performances.

It was sold out for five months

and you lost £10,000.

It must have been hilarious.

The show, I mean.

This isn't news, Inspector.

Bishop Talbot advises the Lord
Chamberlain what plays to ban.

That's not news either, is it?

Well, it is, actually.

Well, all right, you probably
only found that out

after you'd put your insider into
the Lord Chamberlain's office.

I'd suggest you spend
less time on farces

and study a thriller or two, Mr Duke.

Learn to cover your tracks.

Telephoning Bishop Talbot
yesterday and mocking him,

that was a bit of a clue.

What is all this?

Your insider found out
about Bishop Talbot

persuading the Lord Chamberlain
to pull your show.

And that is why you wanted revenge.

You spun the lie about
paying for St George

to lure Talbot into the woods.

And you would have
killed him as planned,

had it not been for
your terrible aim.

~ This is absurd.
~ Is it?

Look, all right...

I found out about that Bible-thumping
idiot trying to shaft me.

I wanted revenge. But shooting him?

Inspector, in my career, I've made
real enemies, proper enemies,

men I have genuinely wanted dead.

Do you think I would risk the noose
for a paper bag like the bishop?

Um, Lady Felicia...


Er, Mrs McCarthy, Sid and I
are about to take our seats.

Of course.

But Natasha's lost her scarf.
It's complete chaos back here.

Why couldn't the Inspector have waited until
after first night to have arrested Bentley?

~ Can I help?
~ Yes.

Ah! Found it!

ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen,
act one beginners, please.

Miss Ferango, Mr Redhill...

Where have you been?

Oh, my goodness! I thought
this was my door.

I'm so sorry!

It's quite all right.
Connecting rooms, eh?


Sorry. Can I just say, I think
you have a smashing set of clubs.


Thank you.

Actually, my coach tells me
I have a wonderful grip too.

I'm sure your all-round
stroke play is excellent.

What's your handicap?

I have a weakness for
chocolate. And married men.

I see...

Would you care for some Black
Forest gateau? My wife made it.



Oh, poor Harry! Is the
pain still unbearable?

I'm afraid so. Though there are moments
when it's merely relentless.


Oh, darling...


My wife! For the first time
in her life, she's back early!






~ The cleaner must have locked it!
~ What?!


Harry! Open the door!


Madam, this is the hotel's
rodent control squad.

We've had reports
of rats in the room.

Please, bear with us.


She's gone!

Oh, darling...

You're a genius!


Well, cheers! Cheers!

Well done. Absolutely
brilliant performance.

I particularly loved the first half.

Oh, thank you so much.

Convincing performance.

Thank you.

In the confessional, I mean.

Why did you kill Davies?

And why did you warn me of your plan?

I have no idea what
you're talking about.


Peter wants us both to join him in
the bar for a celebratory glass.

Or three.

I may be persuaded.

Oh, marvellous.

But, on the other hand...

.. I may need to save my stamina.

~ Early-morning mass.
~ Shame.

Glowing reviews, I'm sure.

Er, the door was open.

Is hiding in a lady's dressing room
normal behaviour for a priest?

You played a nun masquerading
as a plantation owner.

Sure you were very good.

But there is another detail in
the credits which interests me.

Temporary wardrobe mistress,

Ethel Davies.

I imagine that a leading lady

has to trust her wardrobe
mistress absolutely.

After all, she makes
you look the part.

And although she was with you for...

A few weeks?

.. I imagine you got very close.

So close that you shared your
deepest, darkest secrets.

Which is how you found
out that she was also...

.. cruelly betrayed by a man.


you killed Davies.

But I believe you acted
out of empathy.

Can I trust you, Father?


Can you take my confession here?


Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It has been four days since
my last confession.

My uncle...

.. he took away from
me everything I had...

.. everything I believed.

Coming back, after all these
years, I felt it all again.

The anger.

When Ethel told me what
her husband had done...

.. how he had not just
stolen her money,

but every drop of love
from her heart...

.. I had to ease her pain.

But I have regretted
it every minute since.

I thought it would help me...

.. bury a demon.

I now have a new demon.

Why did you warn me of your plans?

I hoped you would throw
the police off the scent.

By making it seem that
the bishop was the target?


But you knew that I could tell
nobody about what you told me.

I believed you would find a way.

Oh, Father, I have been such a fool.

You can still gain God's forgiveness.

But He will only forgive if He knows
that you are truly repentant.

I want this torment to end.

Then you must take
responsibility for your crime.

I'll be hanged...

If you go to the police yourself,

then I believe the church
will be lenient.

But if they come to you...

Natasha, you must do the right thing.

Peter's worried sick Natasha isn't
going to be back for the matinee.

I fear she may be gone
longer than that.

But Natasha doesn't
have an understudy.

She never, ever misses a performance.



Natasha's just given
us a sworn statement.

I see.

She claims that you told
her who killed Davies.

Then she has fooled me a second time.

Is she right? That Bentley
confessed to you?

Father Brown, is Bentley
Duke the killer or not?


You leave me no alternative

but to continue this
conversation at the station.

Get in the car, please.


TANNOY: The train departing from
platform two is the 12.50,

calling at all stations
to Cirencester.

I think you're right, Inspector.

I think Davies was
the intended target.

According to Natasha, Bentley Duke
confessed the murder to you.

And you sat on that while he roamed
free and Ethel Davies grieved.

I had no idea Bentley
Duke was a Catholic.

Your precious seal of the
confessional is a disgrace!

Nothing more than a
licence for criminals

to feel good about their
crimes and escape justice!

And yet you think I broke the
seal of the confessional...

.. to Natasha?

So, you're calling Natasha a liar?

Bentley Duke could have gone back
to the bishop and finished the job.

Would you have been happy having
a second murder on your conscience?

Two murders...

Yes! That's it!

What is?

The two hands... It's a pact!

It's a way of disguising motive.

That's simple...

That's so, so clever.

12.50 to Cirencester...

Inspector, there's another murder
about to be committed in an hour.

We need to stop it.

This won't work, Father.

If we take your fastest car...

I mean, distracting
me with this nonsense.

But we need to leave now!

Sorry, sir. The
Superintendent's on the telephone.

Sit down!

You're not going anywhere.

Lady Felicia, could your motorcar
beat a railway train?

Let's find out.

Cirencester, please, Sid.

Can we stop here, please, Sid?

Thank you.


Leave me be, Father.

Ethel, I know about your
pact with Natasha.

Father Brown?

Go back in the house,
please, Winston.

~ What's all this about?
~ Just do as I say.

Go back into the house.

What in the devil's
name is going on here?

Get inside. Before
this woman kills you.

Let her try.


I'm a woman of my word, Father.

Natasha's done her bit for me.


You ruined that poor girl's life.

You wretched, evil man.
You'll rot in hell!

Dear God...!

Ethel, I know how
angry you must feel,

but two wrongs do not make a right.

I must not let her down.

Father, please...!

Revenge is mine.

I will repay, sayeth the Lord.

Be not overcome by evil...

.. but overcome evil by good.

Oh, Natasha...

Forgive me!

I'm calling the police!

Well, if you think that's right.

She needs locking up!


But then, we all do things
we regret later...

.. don't we...

.. Winston?


You know, some people say I
have my head in the clouds.


Ethel has chosen not
to kill your uncle

and has handed herself in.

How dare you interfere!

~ Where are you going?
~ To kill him myself!

Ethel cannot protect you for long.

She's not an actress.

So I can't afford to waste
time talking to you.

The police will go to your
uncle's. They will find you.

And then what?

Why did you tell me you were
planning to kill Bishop Talbot?

Because you were my uncle's excuse.

God was forgiving him in that
confessional box, through you.

That's what he told me.

You knew exactly what he was doing,
yet you did nothing to help.

So I set you a trap.

Of course.

What would you do if you heard that
your precious boss was in danger?


Risk your life saving him, where
you had abandoned me to evil.

You are the greatest hypocrite
of them all, Father Brown.

I came this close to shooting
you in those woods.

And to hide my hatred from you has been
the greatest acting challenge of my life.

I understand.

You won't deny my uncle
confessed to you?

I cannot say anything.

And you understand why.

He didn't confess.

Father, I will take your silence
to mean that my uncle lied to me.

He did not tell you
what he was doing.

You did not sit by while
evil was committed.

Then I have misjudged
you. I am sorry.


You can still receive
God's forgiveness.

Do you want your uncle punished?

With all my heart.

Then go to the police and
tell them everything.

Mr Duke...

Felicia. Peter.

~ Good to have you back.
~ Yes.

Pair of liars.

You'd much rather Natasha was here
and I was rotting away in a cell.

Don't look so glum. I'm
thrilled to be back!

Even if it is to close the show.

Mr Duke...

I wonder if you would consider me,

in Natasha's place?

Well, that's very sporting of you.

I mean, in the play.



I know her lines. I
know where she stands.

Well, yes, I'm a couple
of years older than her,

but if you and Peter will
just give me the chance

to show what I could do.

~ Act one, scene four?
~ Fine.

All right, when you're
ready, my dear.

Is that...?

Must have been a tough
decision for them.

Very difficult.

~ Are you all right, Lady Felicia?
~ No.


The delightful Mrs McCarthy
insisted I'd find you here.


Have they got the right
person this time?

~ The right person?
~ Well, the actress. Is she my assassin?

Well, just nod. Or shake
your head. Do something.

What do you want?

A new set of hymn books?

A television in the presbytery?

Tell me!

I would never be able to look
you in the eye again, My Lord.

You confounded man!