Howards End (2017–2018): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript
I have always thought the
care of your sister and brother
too great a burden to place upon a
young woman of your tender years.
Oh, I'm not saying you've done
badly by Helen and Tibby, dear.
- Just for yourself.
- Aunt Juley!
What sort of people are
these Wilcoxes, Margaret?
- I don't understand.
- I don't know any more than you do.
We met them in Germany. Then they invited
us to visit them when we came home.
Then Tibby got hay fever
and Helen went on alone.
Paul and I are in love.
Mother, are you aware that Paul has
been playing the fool with that girl?
They do not love any longer.
Do you think personal relations
lead to sloppiness in the end?
It's been a disgusting business.
- Did you hear the concert?
- I did, yes.
That lady has quite
inadvertently taken my umbrella.
Oh, goodness gracious me, I'm so sorry!
That is where we live.
- Miss Schlegel!
- It's the Wilcoxes again.
They've taken a flat across the street.
I should like to give you
something worth your acquaintance.
But I don't want a
Yuletide gift, Mrs Wilcox.
I suppose Mr Wilcox is
quite independent himself.
He has such a strong character.
A very fine nature, really.
Come down with me now to Howards
End. I want you to see it.
Some other day?
Forgive me, I came, I'm so sorry!
- Why, Ruth!
- It is a lovely surprise!
Miss Schlegel, our little
outing must be another day.
For as much as it hath pleased
Almighty God in his great mercy
to take unto himself the soul of
our dear sister here departed.
We therefore commit her
body to the ground,
earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust...
.. in the sure and certain hope of
a resurrection unto eternal life,
through our Lord, Jesus Christ...
.. who shall change the body
that we be like unto his glorious body
according to the mighty work,
whereby he is able to subdue
all things to himself.
Mr Wilcox, I'm so dreadfully sorry.
Miss Schlegel. You are very good to come.
Very good.
The post's come, Father.
Thanks. Put it down.
- Was breakfast all right?
- Yes, thanks.
Charles says do you want The Times?
No, I'll read it later.
Ring if you want anything,
Father, will you?
I've all I want.
Father's eaten nothing.
I don't understand.
That is only a covering letter from
the matron of the nursing home.
- Yes, I see that. - The other is
from your mother, sealed inside...
Yes, yes, I'm sorry, Father.
I don't understand. Who is Miss Schlegel?
- Miss Schlegel?
- Yes.
She came down to the funeral service. She
visited your mother at the nursing home.
- I know who she is. - She was a
sort of friend of mother's. - Oh.
- Yes. - But what does it say?
"To my dear husband,
I should like Miss Margaret
Schlegel to have Howards End."
What?
No date, no signature.
It has been forwarded from the
matron of the nursing home.
- Now, the question is...
- But it can't be legal.
Houses ought to be done by
lawyers, Charles, surely.
Give it to her, Charles.
Why, it's only in pencil! I
said so. Pencil never counts.
We know it is not legally binding,
Dolly. Please, don't interfere.
- The question is... - But she can't have
meant to give Howards End to Miss Schlegel.
I agree, it is very unlike her.
You don't think Miss Schlegel...
Whether she unduly...
Oh, no. I don't think that.
- Don't think what, Father?
- That she would...
That it is a case of undue influence.
No, no, to my mind the question is...
It's your mother's condition
at the time that she wrote.
The house meant so much to her.
It isn't like her to leave it to an
outsider, who'd never appreciate it.
- The whole thing is very unlike her.
- What about Miss Schlegel?
Presumably she knows.
Mother will have told her.
She got twice or three times
into the nursing home.
Presumably she is expecting developments.
What a horrid woman. Why, she could
be coming down to turn us out now!
- I wish she would. I could
then deal with her. - So could I.
But she won't come.
You're all a bit hard on Miss Schlegel.
Your mother admired her, and Miss
Schlegel was very kind to her.
She was kind to visit your
mother, when she was ill.
- That Paul business was pretty
scandalous, though. - I want no more
of the Paul business, Charles.
- Upon my soul, she is honest.
- But those chrysanthemums.
- Or coming down to the funeral at all.
- Why should she not come down?
Certainly she should not
have sent such flowers,
but they may have seemed
the right thing to her.
And for all you know, they
may be the custom in Germany.
Oh, I forget she's a German. That
would explain a lot, I suppose.
But she isn't a German.
She is only half-German.
But what about this letter?
Surely she had no claim on
Howards End? Even if mother...
The letter is in pencil,
and your mother cannot have
been herself when it was written.
There we are.
Charles, I'll take the newspaper, now,
please, if you have finished reading it.
- I jolly well wish she would come down here.
- Charles! Will you give me that newspaper?
- Here, Father.
- Thank you, Evie.
Oh, you're back! You're back!
We'll serve it in a moment. Nancy?
Anyway, then, after that we went to...
Helen,
I told you about poor Mrs
Wilcox, that sad business?
Yes. I was sorry to hear it.
I had a correspondence from her son, Charles.
He was winding up the estate and he wrote to ask
whether his mother had
wanted me to have anything.
- Did he? - I thought it very good of
him, considering I knew her for so little.
I said that she once spoke of
giving me a Christmas present,
but that we forgot about it afterwards.
I hope Charles took the hint.
Yes. That is to say, her husband wrote on.
He thanked me for being
a little kind to her.
He hoped that this wasn't
the end of our acquaintance,
but that you and I will go and stop
with Evie some time in the future.
I like Mr Wilcox.
He is taking up his work.
Rubber. It is a big business.
Yes, it is the business of killing
black Africans in the Congo.
- Oh, Tibby.
- Shut up, Tibby.
Ask your pious, lecturing
friends if it isn't.
Women don't understand economics.
I am sure Mr Wilcox is not a murderer.
How do you think they get the
rubber out of the trees, hmm?
They get great gangs of natives out
of the villages, put them into camps
and set them about pulling
the rubber out of the trees,
boiling it in great vats and then they
shoot them if they try to run away.
Didn't you tell me that he runs
the Imperial Rubber Company
of West Africa or some such company,
Helen? That's not in the Congo.
I really don't remember. Certainly
he is murdering someone.
It is not funny, you know.
What I wanted to tell you, Helen,
is that Mr Wilcox actually gave
me his wife's silver vinaigrette.
Don't you think that is
extraordinarily generous?
- It makes me like him very much.
- It's lovely.
I suppose the silver doesn't
come from an African silver mine.
I'm sure somebody died mining it.
Helen, I was just across the
street and I saw Charles Wilcox.
You'll never guess what?
They're moving out!
What do you think about that?
What's the matter, Len? You've
not been yourself lately.
- You do love me, don't you?
- Jacky, you know I do.
But...
Well? What is it?
Well, just... You will make
it all right, won't you, Len?
- Between us, I mean.
- I've said so, haven't I?
- Don't be angry.
- Haven't I said so a dozen times?
Yes, you have, Len.
It's just Cecile told the most dreadful
story today about a girl she knows.
- What's that got to do with me?
- Nothing, darling. Don't be angry.
Only...
Only it's not right we keep pretending.
- You will make it all right, won't you, Len?
- I can't have you ask me that again!
- I'm sorry.
- My word is my word.
I will marry you as soon as ever I'm 21.
- It's not long now. - I know, darling.
- I can't keep on being worried!
When a man gives his word...
If my brother knew about us...
- I know, Len. I'm sorry.
- Haven't I worries enough? Look at that.
- That's another cuff gone.
- I'll mend it for you.
That's six miles walking all
this week to pay for a new pair!
- I shall be for it tomorrow if
anyone notices. - I'm sorry. I am.
I can't breathe in here. It's too close.
- What the devil are you playing?
- Isn't it lovely?
No, it is not. You are
giving me a headache.
Both of you are giving me a
headache. Do stop quarrelling.
I've another one here called Who Threw
The Overalls In Mrs Murphy's Chowder?
- Meg! - Oh, do please
stop quarrelling! - Sorry.
What's in that letter, Meg? Bad news?
Oh, it's only a letter reminding
us that the lease has expired
and we have until May to clear out.
I know it doesn't rate as one
of life's great tragedies,
we knew it was coming, but
it's still a bit of a shock.
Good God. Where will we move?
I expect we'll find some place,
Meg. Don't be too downhearted.
Yes, luckily we have some money, too.
- What is it, Annie? - This lady,
ma'am. She... - Good afternoon.
Have I the honour of speaking
to Miss Margaret Schlegel?
No. I'm Helen.
I don't know why I should be so upset.
It's been such a happy house. Why
does it have to be swept away?
[Meg!]
Helen? Whatever is the
matter? It's all right, Annie.
- How do you do? I'm Miss Schlegel.
- Good afternoon, Miss Schlegel.
If I have the honour of addressing
Miss Margaret Schlegel...
Yes, I'm Margaret.
I have come in search of my husband,
Mr Bast, who I have some reason
to believe may be visiting the
premises, if I may be so bold.
- It's all right Annie. Thank you.
- Annie, will you go?
Yes, Miss. I'm terribly sorry, Miss.
- Now, Mrs... I'm so sorry.
- Bast, Miss.
Mrs Leonard Bast, as I think Miss
Schlegel has good reason to understand,
- without her being told twice by me.
- I'm afraid I don't, quite.
I say, what is all the hullabaloo?
- Can't a chap play the piano in
peace and quiet? - Go away, Tibby.
Won't you tell us what
this is about, Mrs Bast?
I think perhaps, Miss Schlegel,
that the explanation rests on
the other side, if you please.
But... I don't understand.
That is your card, is it not?
Yes, an old one, by the look of it.
Then will you please oblige me by
explaining how my husband came to have it?
And where he might be at this moment?
And if he is here I should like a
word with him, if you don't mind.
- Here? Your husband?
- We don't know who your husband is.
Truly we don't. We've never met a Mr Bast.
Yes, you have.
The chap with the umbrella
at the Prince Regent's Hall.
- What? - Helen stole his brolly,
Meg brought him home, and Aunt Juley
was afraid he'd take the silver.
- Don't be an idiot. - Take the silver?
- No, you must forgive my brother.
- My Len take your silver? - You must
remember? - No-one has taken anything,
and no-one is accused of taking anything.
- But this gentleman just said...
- Please, won't you come in and have some tea?
I only said our Aunt was
afraid he'd take the silver.
We never thought so. I
wasn't so jolly sure, but...
My Len would never steal
so much as a lump of coal.
- He didn't have time, he was only
here ten minutes. - Tibby be quiet!
Won't you come in?
No, no, no, thank you, Miss
Schlegel. I just... I want my Len.
And I can see now I was wrong.
Please, what's become of him?
- Tibby! Do go away at once! - Stop crying,
Mrs Bast. And tell us what it is you want?
I just want my husband. And
I thought he might be here.
- But why would you imagine that?
- Because he'd got your card, Meg.
But if he's missing, oughtn't
we to call the police?
No, no. Thank you, Miss. I'm so sorry.
- Please -- let me go.
- All right. If you had rather not.
- May I have the card, please?
- Surely. But why...?
Len'll be furious if
he knows I've come here.
Goodness. He won't strike you?
My Len? Put his hands on me?
Oh, Miss, please!
I do so beg your pardon!
- How extraordinary!
- Poor girl.
It's all right now,
Annie. No-one's to blame.
- Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss.
- Oh, Helen.
So often I feel we live chattering
away at the edge of a great abyss.
I don't want to close my eyes to it,
or comfortably pretend it isn't there,
but I don't want to live in it.
Is that very wicked and selfish of me?
It's better than your friends the
Wilcoxes, who batter their way
through the abyss, pulling
heaps of money from it.
- Not the Wilcoxes.
- That's wrong and unfair.
At least they live in the world
and not on it, or... or above it.
- What?
- Don't make fun, Tibby.
Oh, I'm tired of the whole subject.
I despise proofs. I despise
cant. I loathe taking positions.
I can only react to feelings.
They are the only guide that matters.
Yes, I think so, too. The
personal is what's important.
Your precious Ws don't think so.
Even the Ws will come face to
face with the personal some day.
Dearest Meg, there we differ.
I have seen, rather up close, I'm afraid,
what they are like in a crisis.
A rather small and tawdry
one, I grant you -- mine.
I'm afraid that, for
them, the personal was
a whirlwind which they refused to see,
and which knocked them about
the room while they tried to
sort out the best policy using
practical business methods,
which don't include whirlwinds
in the balance sheet.
But they were quite undone, because the
main force in the room was invisible to them.
But you said the best thing about them was
how they treated Mrs Wilcox, didn't you?
- Yes. - That shows something
fine in them, doesn't it?
- Yes. - This passage
is deuced difficult.
Can you imagine, really imagine,
writing it when he was deaf,
let alone playing it?
Tibby, when do you go back to Oxford?
I've just come back. I
might not go back at all.
- You have to, Tibby.
- Oh, you must go, Tibby!
You can't live on your
inheritance, you know.
Yours and Meg's supports the
two of you. Why shouldn't mine?
Because you're a man, Tibby.
Yes, you are. You must work.
It is a universal impulse.
I thought you were opposed to
cant and principles and positions,
and cared only for feelings
and personal relations.
I don't know what I think any more
at this moment, except that I wish
the two of you would stop using the
piano as a form of self-expression.
- It's very wearing. - Dear
Meg. - It's only Beethoven.
I'm sorry.
That woman upset me. She really did.
And the letter.
Where shall we live? I don't want to move.
I've lived here all my life,
and now it's to be swept away
and turned into another block
of flats like Wickham Mansions.
I don't see why they should have the right
to do that to every family on the street,
even if they do own the freehold
of Wickham. It's not just.
I know we shall find
somewhere to live, but..
- That's how your Mr W would handle it.
- Leave Meg alone.
Oh, yes. Well, that's right. When it's
my chance to score, I'm told to be quiet.
- When you're having a go at me...
- Please don't make me quarrel!
I want to go to my room, my
head is bursting. I'm sorry.
- Is that Mr Bast?
- It looks like him.
- Do you suppose it's he? - Yes, it
must be. - Annie, we'll be three for tea.
- Yes, miss. Will you have it in the drawing
room? - Yes, the drawing room, Annie, thank you.
Now, Helen, don't let's act
like fluttering idiots.
- Oh, yes, I agree. - He's bound to
be very much ashamed of himself and
I want to make him feel at home.
I think he'll be very grateful
to find we didn't mind Mrs Bast
and have nearly forgotten
the entire incident.
- Helen, I'm being serious!
- So am I serious.
I won't have him treated like a
social experiment! Do open the door.
He hasn't rung the bell. If we
open the door before he rings
- he will certainly feel like a
social experiment. - Please be quiet!
- Yes? - Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.
No doubt you can remember the
last occasion on which we met.
- Well, not exactly.
- We remember some of it.
My brother said that we stole your
umbrella from the Prince Regent's.
Yes. They were playing
Beethoven's Fifth that day.
We always go to the
Fifth when they play it.
- I do remember stealing your umbrella.
- Quite inadvertently.
I suppose you can guess the
reason for my visit today.
- Has it gone missing again?
- Helen!
No, no, it hasn't. That's
all right, Miss Schlegel.
I'm so sorry. What an idiotic joke.
Would you like to come inside?
Thank you. I should like to explain.
We are just about to sit down to some tea.
- I do hope you will join us.
- I don't like to impose.
- Oh, do, please!
- Yes, please don't refuse us!
Thanks. I should be very happy to.
- Won't you come this way?
- Thank you.
After you.
Thank you.
I still don't understand.
I went walking. That's all.
I walked all night, you see...
- Did you?!
- Did you?
Yes.
While I was gone, however, Mrs Bast
needed me on important business,
and thought I had come
here, owing to the card
Why should she think that?
Well, a card, belonging to a lady
whose name she didn't know...
Why did you never tell her about your
adventure, the time I took your umbrella?
- I didn't like to.
- Why not?
I suppose it was a secret I
wanted to keep for myself.
I don't blame her.
But she should not have come
here. If I had imagined...
It doesn't matter about that.
And all this time you were only walking?
- Yes.
- But how marvellous!
- Was it?
- Of course it was!
Where did you start from? Tell us more.
I...
Well, I took the Underground to
Wimbledon and I had a bite to eat.
But not good country there, is it?
It was gas lamps for hours.
I did get into the woods presently, and...
being out was the great thing.
Were you walking alone, may I ask?
Yes. I don't know where, nor for how long.
It got too dark to see my watch.
I rather fancy it was those North Downs.
Then I found a road to a station,
and I got the first train
I could back to London.
Was the dawn wonderful?
No. No, the dawn was only
grey. Nothing to mention.
Yes. Just a grey evening
turned upside down. I know.
Yes. Yes. And...
I was too tired to lift
my head to look at it.
Looking back, it wasn't
what you'd call enjoyment.
It was more a case of sticking to it.
Oh, hang it!
What's the good in
living in a room forever?
There one goes, one day
after day, same old game,
same up and down to town, until you
forget there is any other game.
You ought to see once, in a
way, what's going on outside.
- I should just think you ought.
- Yes.
Have you ever read Richard Jeffries?
Yes.
Or George Borrow, Stonehenge?
Yes, of course we have. But...
Well...
I've... I'm afraid I've imposed
too far on your kindness.
Thank you for the tea.
I must be going.
- But why must you go?
- You will come another time, I hope.
I say, Helen.
Well?
Do you think we'll
really follow up Mr Bast?
- I don't know.
- Do you think we might try to?
How do you do?
I thought I recognised your voices.
Whatever are you both doing here?
What an age it has been since
I last saw you, Mr Wilcox.
We're just admiring the
sunlight on the water.
- Now, tell me all your news.
- Oh, we've had a splendid afternoon.
We belong to a club that reads
papers. There's a discussion after.
Today it was on how one
ought to leave one's money.
whether to a friend, or to the poor,
and, if so, how. Most interesting.
Sounds a most original entertainment.
I wish my Evie would go
in for that sort of thing.
She's taken to breeding Aberdeen Terriers.
We pretend we're improving
ourselves, you see.
Doubtless you find it wasteful.
Not at all, no. Nothing like a
debate to teach you to be quick.
- Doesn't matter much on what subject.
- Does it not?
Oh, no, we won't argue.
I'll just put our special
case to Mr Wilcox.
He knows about the poor and
what's to be done with them.
- I don't know about that.
- Helen only means...
We've just come across a young fellow
who's evidently very poor indeed,
although he aspires to higher things, however
awkwardly, and he got mixed up in our debate.
- Yes? What's his profession?
- Clerk. - Clerk.
- What in? - What in? - Oh.
Do you remember, Helen?
The Porphyrion Fire Insurance Company.
- Porphyrion? - That's it.
- Oh, well, in that case...
Now, how should such a man be helped?
Should he be given £300 a year
direct, which was Margaret's plan?
Should he and those like
him be given free libraries?
My suggestion was that he be given something
every year towards a summer holiday.
- But then there's his wife...
- My dear Miss Schlegel, I will not rush in
where your sex has been unable to tread
Oh, why ever not?
Helen, Mr Wilcox will think you rude.
- Will he? I'm sorry.
- Not at all.
However, I'm afraid that my
only contribution would be
to let your young friend clear out
of the Porphyrion Fire Insurance
Company with all possible speed.
Why?
I oughtn't to have spoken, but I
happen to know, being more or less
behind the scenes, that it'll be in
the Receiver's hands before Easter.
The Porphyrion's a bad, bad,
concern. Don't say I said so.
- It's outside the Tariff Ring.
- Well, certainly we won't say.
We don't know what it means.
The Tariff Ring is an association
of insurance companies.
I thought an insurance company never smashed.
Don't the others always run in and save them?
You're thinking of reinsurance.
It's exactly there that the
Porphyrion is weak, I'm afraid.
- We must warn Mr Bast.
- Yes. Thank you ever so much, Mr Wilcox.
And you are still in Wickham Place?
No... Yes. We've got to move out by May.
Oh, I'm sorry.
We've just taken a place in Ducie
Street, near to Sloane Street.
And a place down in
Shropshire, Oniton Grange.
Have you heard of Oniton?
Do come and visit us.
Right away from everywhere,
it's up toward Wales.
Oh, we shall. And Howards End?
- Oh, it's let.
- Oh, what change!
I can't imagine Howards End or
Helton existing without you.
I should have kept such a
remarkable place in the family.
Oh, it is. It is, I haven't
sold it, I don't mean to.
No, but none of you are there.
And we have a splendid tenant
now, a Mr Bryce, an invalid.
Charles and his wife live
very near the old place.
- I forget whether you've been up there.
- The house, never.
No. Well...
Well, do remind Evie to come
and see us. 2 Wickham Place.
- We shan't be there much longer, either.
- Everyone moving!
Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
"Dear Mr Bast, would you do us
"the kindness of stopping at
Wickham Place tomorrow at tea-time?
"We should be so glad to see you.
Your friend, Helen Schlegel."
How do you like your work?
My work?
- Yes.
- Oh, well enough.
Your company is the Porphyrion, isn't it?
Yes, that's so.
We were told the Porphyrion's
no-go. We wanted to tell you.
That's why we wrote.
I see.
A friend of ours did say he thinks
it is insufficiently reinsured.
And he advised us to tell
you to clear out by Easter.
He did not advise us. He said
it was bound to smash by Easter.
He did not advise us to say so.
You can tell your friend he's quite wrong.
Oh, good! Our friend, who is also
a businessman, was so positive.
And he advised you to clear out of it.
He's made quite a lot of money.
I'm not one of those who mind their
affairs being spoken of by others.
- Oh, I am glad!
- Men are so tactful. Women have no tact.
- Our friend is quite rich, you
see, and seems to have a hand in
all manners of concerns. - Quite so.
But I don't see why he should
know better than you do.
One can but see. As Ibsen
says, "Things happen..."
Mr Wilcox and Miss Wilcox.
- Hello!
- Oh, the dears!
We brought the little fellows round.
I bred them myself. This
is Ahab, and that's Jezebel.
Oh, really! Mr Bast, come
play with the puppies.
- Mr Wilcox, Mr Bast.
- I must be going now.
- Must you really?
- Come again.
No. No, I shan't.
- But...
- I call that a very rude remark.
Are we intruding, Miss Schlegel?
Or can we be of any use?
It's all right, Mr Wilcox.
I... Good day.
Helen, go after him.
Ought she to?
Can I help you now?
No, it's all right. Thank
you. I'm very sorry.
He's a nice creature, really. I
cannot think what set him off.
Where are you going?
What do you want to
turn on me like that for?
- You ask me why I turn on you?
- Yes!
What do you want to have me in there for?
To help you, you silly
boy. And don't shout.
Why should you help me?
Why should I not help you?
Because... Well...
I don't want your patronage.
I don't want your tea.
I was quite happy. What do
you want to unsettle me for?
But why should you say so?
What are you looking for?
- My hat!
- Annie!
Will you please bring Mr Bast his hat?
Yes, Miss.
When you asked me to tea, I...
Yes?
Of course, if there's
been a misunderstanding...
We did not have you here
out of charity. But because
we hoped there would be a connection
between last Sunday and other days.
- We thought... - It's no good. - But...
You don't want to discuss
books with me, or music,
- or any of the things that I like...
- Mr Bast...
And I can't discuss them in your easy way.
I don't know how.
But I suppose they mean ever
as much to me as they do to you.
We don't discuss them in an easy way.
You do! You think I am
a... comic character.
- I do not.
- Here you are, sir.
That's not mine.
Annie, you have brought the
gentleman Mr Wilcox's hat.
I'm sorry, Miss. I won't be a moment.
- We don't think you're a
comic character. - But you do.
You think I'm superficial if
I want to talk about books.
If I tell you about
Carlyle. Or... or, erm...
- Ruskin?
- Ruskin, yes. Or Dostoevsky.
- Oh. Yes.
- You don't care for Dostoevsky.
Well, I don't, no. But...
Dostoevsky? I mean,
does any body like him?
- Tibby, please.
- All that eternal fainting and screaming.
You can't cut a single page without
someone collapsing on the floor.
- Tibby, go away.
- Might I have my hat, do you suppose?
Yes, yes, I can't think
where's she's got to...
Would you be so good as to introduce
me to this gentleman, Helen?
I will not. Go away, Tibby.
- We have met before.
- Have we?
I can't remember.
You're one of Meg and
Helen's social experiments?
- Tibby!
- I'm sure I don't know.
I say! Are you that poor devil
of a clerk they have debates over,
- at the Chelsea Women's
Political Club? - He is not.
I'm sure I couldn't say.
I'm sure I should be honoured if I were.
Oh, that's all right, then.
Where do you chaps stand
on the suffrage question?
- We don't get much of the working man's view in
our circle. - Nancy! - I have no fixed opinion.
- Yes, Miss? - No fixed opinion?
- Can you find Annie, please?
- She has disappeared with the
gentleman's hat. - Yes, Miss.
If you lived with Meg and Helen you'd
have a fixed opinion, and no mistake!
A lot of footle, if you ask me. I
say the world's gone off its onion.
- Tibby, if you don't go this instant,
I shall scream. - All right, then.
Mr Bast, I...
Thank you for your advice
about the Porphyrion.
I am not a businessman, like your friend.
- He is not our friend.
- I am only a clerk. But even a clerk...
- No, it's useless.
- But we're not... We only...
- Your hat, sir. - Thank you.
- Annie! Whatever has been keeping you?
I'm sorry, Miss. I'd
got them muddled and...
Oh, it's all right.
Miss Schlegel...
All I can do is go.
Thank you for trying to help me.
Goodbye.
But who was he?
He was the young man we were
to warn against the Porphyrion.
We warn him and look!
Miss Schlegel, may I
speak to you as a friend?
- Yes, of course. - In that case,
well, oughtn't you to be more careful?
- Careful?
- You're too kind.
Yes, indeed.
You behave much too well to people,
and then they impose on you.
When I came in and saw that young man
I could tell straight away that
you weren't treating him properly.
I know the type. You have
to keep them at a distance
or they take advantage.
It's sad, but true.
Let me explain why we like this young
man, and why we want to see him again.
Oh, you shall never make me
believe that you really like him!
We do. We do.
I'm afraid that you and your sister...
We want to show him how he
may get upsides with life.
Something to relieve life's daily grey.
Ah, well, that that is where you make your
mistake, Miss Schlegel. And it is a great mistake.
- Yes, indeed. - Evie.
- Where? I mean, why?
This young man has his own life.
What right have you to conclude
it is an unsuccessful one?
- Or, as you call it, "grey"?
- Because...
- One minute. - Well... - One
minute! You know nothing of him.
He probably has his own
joys and interests.
A wife, children, snug little home.
I look at the faces of the
clerks in my own office.
I don't know what's going on
beneath, I don't presume to.
- So, by the way, with London.
- Yes? - What do you know about London?
Yesterday you were pleased to admire
the sunlight on the Thames at high tide.
Well, the tide is higher and the
sunlight more pleasant because
my fellow capitalists and I have
shares in the lock at Teddington
and now we've shortened the
tidal trough under London Bridge.
Result -- higher tides for shipping,
more sunlight on the water.
Yes, I see.
You do have a nice way of taking the
poetry out of everything, Mr Wilcox.
Why should you say so?
If your poetry means what you say it does,
why should it not be proof against
a piece of civil engineering
which means millions of pounds a
year in reduced shipping costs
for every sort of business under the sun?
Your mistake, Miss Schlegel,
is only to see civilisation
from the outside.
All I can say is that
we like this young man
and we see something fine in him.
Miss Schlegel, you're a
pair of charitable creatures,
but you really ought to be more
careful in this uncharitable world.
What about your brother? What does he say?
As the man of the house,
oughtn't he to take an interest?
Excuse me. I must see what Helen is doing.
Well! What about this?
Helen?
Why, you're all alone!
Yes, he's been gone some time.
But what happened?
It's all right. Such a muddle of a man.
I like him so much.
Well, come back to the
Wilcoxes and tell me later.
Mr W is much concerned,
and slightly titillated.
Oh, I have no patience
with him. I hate him.
You hate him? I thought
him rather splendid.
Only because you dissect him.
Why should you say so?
Don't you dissect Mr Bast?
- I don't. - You do. We both do.
We're always dissecting people.
It does sound rather disgusting
when you say it like that.
Come play with puppies. And don't
discuss Mr Bast with the Wilcoxes.
They don't understand him.
- Hello! Where have you been?
- Looking at houses.
I do wish you'd find something.
I can't bear to look at any more.
I don't know what I'm looking for.
What are we going to do
with all this furniture?
And father's books? We are
simply running out of time.
We are to go nowhere and be at home
for no-one until we've found a house.
It's from Evie Wilcox,
inviting me to lunch at Simpson's
tomorrow with her fiance, Mr Cahill.
"The three of us can have a jolly chat."
Egads.
It is kind of her to remember.
Perhaps I've misjudged her.
She is so excessively athletic.
Perhaps it blocks out her
other good qualities.
I don't see why she invites me and
not you. I thought she disliked me.
Perhaps it is a ploy to drive
you into the arms of her father.
Do you think so?
It would save us the
trouble of finding a house.
Yes, that's true.
Will you go?
Oh, I must.
Stalwart Meg.
Did I tell you Father
might be at the party?
Yes, there he is!
I thought I'd get round if I could.
When I heard about Evie's little plan,
I slipped in to secure a table.
Always secure a table first.
And tip the carver. That's the golden
rule. "Tip everywhere" is my motto.
Now, Evie, don't pretend you
want to sit by your old father,
because I know you don't. Miss
Schlegel, come round my side.
That's it.
- How's your discussion society
getting on? Any new utopias? - No.
My goodness, you look tired.
Have you been worrying
after your young clerks?
No, houses. Do you know of any?
- No, I'm afraid I don't.
- What's that, Father?
We must find a new home in May.
- Someone has to find it. I can't.
- Percy, do you know of anything?
Can't say I do.
- How like you! You're never any good.
- Never any good! Just listen to her!
Never any good. Oh, come!
Well, you aren't. Miss Schlegel, is he?
- Miss Schlegel? Gruyere? Or Stilton?
- Gruyere, please.
- Better have Stilton. Evie?
- Oh, Stilton, please. - Mr Cahill?
- Have you any Gouda? - Of course
they haven't any Gouda at Simpson's.
- He'll have the Stilton.
- I don't want Stilton.
You should have whatever
you like, Mr Cahill.
Don't let Evie bully you.
How about a nice bit of
Altenburger Ziegenkase?
- I beg your pardon?
- Altenburger Ziegenkase.
It's Saxon, or Thuringian,
depending on one's loyalties.
It gets a bit gooey in the warm
weather, but otherwise it's excellent.
- I suppose you've run out?
- I'm afraid...
Well done, Miss Schlegel! Very well done!
- I'll have the Gruyere.
- Thank you, sir.
Are you coming with us to the
Hippodrome, Miss Schlegel?
No, thank you. I must get
back to my house hunting.
Oh, but you must! It's
meant to be marvellous.
They release 300,000 gallons
of water on a village wedding
and sweep away the
huntsmen and all show folk,
and the entire wedding
party into oblivion.
I should be sorry to miss that.
They say it's very realistic.
Yes, but why put Aimee Roberts
on the stage only to sweep her off
again along with 300,000 gallons
of water and a lot of huntsmen?
Why come to Simpson's
to get a French cheese?
You see? You see how she chafes me?
How's your house?
Ducie Street? Much the
same. Comfortable enough.
I don't mean Ducie Street. I
meant Howards End, of course.
- Why, "of course?"
- Can't you turn out your tenants
and let it to us instead?
We're nearly demented.
Oh, we couldn't do that.
It's let for three years.
Can't you help us, Mr Wilcox?
We're merely looking for
a small house with large
rooms, and plenty of them.
I wish I could. A piece of advice.
Fix your district and your
price and then don't budge.
That's how I got both Ducie
Street and the house in Oniton.
I thought to myself, "I
mean to be exactly here."
And I was.
Thank you ever so much, Mr Wilcox.
Next time you shall come for lunch
with me at Mr Eustace Miles.
- Pleasure. - No, you'll hate it. It's
full of proteins and body-buildings
and people coming up to you
- begging your pardon, but you have
such a beautiful aura. - A what?
Do you know, I suspect Mr Wilcox
of planning the whole entertainment?
Not really? I meant that as a joke.
Yes, but if you reflect -- I
was very fond of his wife.
She really was an extraordinary person.
- You still think so, don't you?
- Oh, yes.
And he's always preferred me
to you, which most men don't.
Well, that's something
in his favour, anyhow.
Chaperone you and Mr Wilcox
at lunch at Eustace Miles?
Are you mad?
Yes. I want to ask him. He promised to go.
He promised to eat
proteins and body-builders.
But you don't really need
a chaperone at your age?
It may surprise you, Tibby,
to learn that I am only 28.
It does, rather.
I dare say you think of me as an old maid.
But I can't go to lunch with a single
gentleman unchaperoned, that's flat.
If you don't go, I can't invite him.
All right, then.
This is ghastly.
What do you think of it, Mr Wilcox?
I told you that you would hate it.
Not at all. Not at all. It
may not suit every taste,
but it's widely known to be
the healthiest kind of food.
Tell me, though, Miss Schlegel,
do you really believe in the supernatural?
Auras, and astral planes?
That's too big a question.
No, it isn't.
- Why's that? - Because although
I don't believe in auras,
and think theosophy may
only be a halfway house.
- There may be something there after all.
- Not even that.
It may be halfway in the wrong
direction. I can't explain.
I don't believe in all these fads,
but I don't like to say
I don't believe in them.
I'm a little out of my depth.
Do you talk rather like
this to your office boy?
I talk the same way to
everyone. Or try to.
I don't believe in suiting
my conversation to my company.
One can doubtless hit upon
some medium of exchange
that seems to do well enough, but
there's no nourishment in it.
You pass it down to the lower classes,
they pass it back up to you, and
you call this a mutual endeavour,
when it's mutual priggishness
if it's anything.
Our friends at Chelsea don't see this.
They say one ought to be,
at all costs, intelligible,
- and sacrifice... - You do admit there
are rich and poor. That's something.
But of course I do.
And you do admit that, if
wealth were divided equally,
in a few years there would
be rich and poor again.
- Everyone admits that.
- Your socialists don't.
- My socialists do. Yours mayn't.
- I don't care.
You've just made two damaging admissions,
and I'm heartily with you in both.
Do you know that this wretched
hash is called Reform Food?
Have you ever heard such a
monstrous combination of words?
I think you are too severe, Mr Schlegel.
I think one should try
new things occasionally.
Yes, but not this.
I find it quite good.
Yes, it's quite good.
"Dear Miss Schlegel..."
Perhaps we ought to give up for a while
and go down to the seaside for a month.
Oh, Margaret, do come!
London is so unhealthy
at this time of year.
It's from Mr Wilcox.
He is announcing an important
change in his plans.
- Who?
- Mr Wilcox.
- He says owing to Evie's marriage,
he has decided... - Not your Wilcoxes,
- surely, Helen. - They're
Meg's. - They are not!
"Owing to Evie's marriage,
I have decided to give up
"the house in Ducie Street..."
- .. and to let it out on
a yearly tenancy. - Where?
Ducie Street. Where Mr Wilcox lives.
- But I thought... - He writes, if
you and your family approve the rent,
please notify him at once --
that's underlined twice --
- when I can go over the house with him.
- He's in love with you.
Oh, really. It's a very
business-like letter.
- Why should he be in love with me?
- Why should he not be?
Good heavens, you're not going to marry
that old man from the protein restaurant?
Marry? Margaret is engaged to marry?
Why shouldn't I, if he asks?
Oh, Meg, you wouldn't. I'm only joking.
Well, I think someone might have told me.
There's nothing to tell, Aunt Juley.
I know he's been quite attentive...
The idea's appalling. He's a
beast. He has no human feeling.
He is not a beast. You
should have seen him
humbly eating his
protein-builders at Eustace Miles.
- No-one could have been kinder.
I was proud of him. - Meg!
- Of Tibby? Well, naturally. - It
was rather a strain. - Of Mr Wilcox!
I am sorry.
But what have I said?
Oh, honestly, Aunt Juley, nothing.
I'm only so anxious about
finding a place to live.
Well, how do I prevent you?
Oh, dear, you don't.
Now, children, what's it to
be? You all know Ducie Street?
Shall I say yes or should
I say no? Tibby, which?
I specially want to pin you both.
- Say no.
- Say yes.
That's decided, then.
This is awfully kind, the
house has not been built
that suits the Schlegel family.
- Have you come determined not to deal?
- Not exactly.
I hope she hasn't been hasty.
Well, well, well, all of you!
I do not intend to forget
these Schlegels in a hurry.
If I find them monopolising my
father I intend to put my foot down.
It's heartbreaking having
to leave one's old home.
I scarcely remember anything
before Wickham Place.
- Helen and Tibby were born there. Helen says...
- You, too, feel lonely?
Horribly.
You must write.
I'll write, I promise.
A man who had little money
has less, owing to us.
Helen, neither you, nor I, nor
the directors of the Porphyrion
are to blame for this
clerk's loss in salary.
No-one is to blame.
I am.
More and more do I
refuse to draw my income
and sneer at those who guarantee it.
Only connect.
That is the whole of my sermon.
care of your sister and brother
too great a burden to place upon a
young woman of your tender years.
Oh, I'm not saying you've done
badly by Helen and Tibby, dear.
- Just for yourself.
- Aunt Juley!
What sort of people are
these Wilcoxes, Margaret?
- I don't understand.
- I don't know any more than you do.
We met them in Germany. Then they invited
us to visit them when we came home.
Then Tibby got hay fever
and Helen went on alone.
Paul and I are in love.
Mother, are you aware that Paul has
been playing the fool with that girl?
They do not love any longer.
Do you think personal relations
lead to sloppiness in the end?
It's been a disgusting business.
- Did you hear the concert?
- I did, yes.
That lady has quite
inadvertently taken my umbrella.
Oh, goodness gracious me, I'm so sorry!
That is where we live.
- Miss Schlegel!
- It's the Wilcoxes again.
They've taken a flat across the street.
I should like to give you
something worth your acquaintance.
But I don't want a
Yuletide gift, Mrs Wilcox.
I suppose Mr Wilcox is
quite independent himself.
He has such a strong character.
A very fine nature, really.
Come down with me now to Howards
End. I want you to see it.
Some other day?
Forgive me, I came, I'm so sorry!
- Why, Ruth!
- It is a lovely surprise!
Miss Schlegel, our little
outing must be another day.
For as much as it hath pleased
Almighty God in his great mercy
to take unto himself the soul of
our dear sister here departed.
We therefore commit her
body to the ground,
earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust...
.. in the sure and certain hope of
a resurrection unto eternal life,
through our Lord, Jesus Christ...
.. who shall change the body
that we be like unto his glorious body
according to the mighty work,
whereby he is able to subdue
all things to himself.
Mr Wilcox, I'm so dreadfully sorry.
Miss Schlegel. You are very good to come.
Very good.
The post's come, Father.
Thanks. Put it down.
- Was breakfast all right?
- Yes, thanks.
Charles says do you want The Times?
No, I'll read it later.
Ring if you want anything,
Father, will you?
I've all I want.
Father's eaten nothing.
I don't understand.
That is only a covering letter from
the matron of the nursing home.
- Yes, I see that. - The other is
from your mother, sealed inside...
Yes, yes, I'm sorry, Father.
I don't understand. Who is Miss Schlegel?
- Miss Schlegel?
- Yes.
She came down to the funeral service. She
visited your mother at the nursing home.
- I know who she is. - She was a
sort of friend of mother's. - Oh.
- Yes. - But what does it say?
"To my dear husband,
I should like Miss Margaret
Schlegel to have Howards End."
What?
No date, no signature.
It has been forwarded from the
matron of the nursing home.
- Now, the question is...
- But it can't be legal.
Houses ought to be done by
lawyers, Charles, surely.
Give it to her, Charles.
Why, it's only in pencil! I
said so. Pencil never counts.
We know it is not legally binding,
Dolly. Please, don't interfere.
- The question is... - But she can't have
meant to give Howards End to Miss Schlegel.
I agree, it is very unlike her.
You don't think Miss Schlegel...
Whether she unduly...
Oh, no. I don't think that.
- Don't think what, Father?
- That she would...
That it is a case of undue influence.
No, no, to my mind the question is...
It's your mother's condition
at the time that she wrote.
The house meant so much to her.
It isn't like her to leave it to an
outsider, who'd never appreciate it.
- The whole thing is very unlike her.
- What about Miss Schlegel?
Presumably she knows.
Mother will have told her.
She got twice or three times
into the nursing home.
Presumably she is expecting developments.
What a horrid woman. Why, she could
be coming down to turn us out now!
- I wish she would. I could
then deal with her. - So could I.
But she won't come.
You're all a bit hard on Miss Schlegel.
Your mother admired her, and Miss
Schlegel was very kind to her.
She was kind to visit your
mother, when she was ill.
- That Paul business was pretty
scandalous, though. - I want no more
of the Paul business, Charles.
- Upon my soul, she is honest.
- But those chrysanthemums.
- Or coming down to the funeral at all.
- Why should she not come down?
Certainly she should not
have sent such flowers,
but they may have seemed
the right thing to her.
And for all you know, they
may be the custom in Germany.
Oh, I forget she's a German. That
would explain a lot, I suppose.
But she isn't a German.
She is only half-German.
But what about this letter?
Surely she had no claim on
Howards End? Even if mother...
The letter is in pencil,
and your mother cannot have
been herself when it was written.
There we are.
Charles, I'll take the newspaper, now,
please, if you have finished reading it.
- I jolly well wish she would come down here.
- Charles! Will you give me that newspaper?
- Here, Father.
- Thank you, Evie.
Oh, you're back! You're back!
We'll serve it in a moment. Nancy?
Anyway, then, after that we went to...
Helen,
I told you about poor Mrs
Wilcox, that sad business?
Yes. I was sorry to hear it.
I had a correspondence from her son, Charles.
He was winding up the estate and he wrote to ask
whether his mother had
wanted me to have anything.
- Did he? - I thought it very good of
him, considering I knew her for so little.
I said that she once spoke of
giving me a Christmas present,
but that we forgot about it afterwards.
I hope Charles took the hint.
Yes. That is to say, her husband wrote on.
He thanked me for being
a little kind to her.
He hoped that this wasn't
the end of our acquaintance,
but that you and I will go and stop
with Evie some time in the future.
I like Mr Wilcox.
He is taking up his work.
Rubber. It is a big business.
Yes, it is the business of killing
black Africans in the Congo.
- Oh, Tibby.
- Shut up, Tibby.
Ask your pious, lecturing
friends if it isn't.
Women don't understand economics.
I am sure Mr Wilcox is not a murderer.
How do you think they get the
rubber out of the trees, hmm?
They get great gangs of natives out
of the villages, put them into camps
and set them about pulling
the rubber out of the trees,
boiling it in great vats and then they
shoot them if they try to run away.
Didn't you tell me that he runs
the Imperial Rubber Company
of West Africa or some such company,
Helen? That's not in the Congo.
I really don't remember. Certainly
he is murdering someone.
It is not funny, you know.
What I wanted to tell you, Helen,
is that Mr Wilcox actually gave
me his wife's silver vinaigrette.
Don't you think that is
extraordinarily generous?
- It makes me like him very much.
- It's lovely.
I suppose the silver doesn't
come from an African silver mine.
I'm sure somebody died mining it.
Helen, I was just across the
street and I saw Charles Wilcox.
You'll never guess what?
They're moving out!
What do you think about that?
What's the matter, Len? You've
not been yourself lately.
- You do love me, don't you?
- Jacky, you know I do.
But...
Well? What is it?
Well, just... You will make
it all right, won't you, Len?
- Between us, I mean.
- I've said so, haven't I?
- Don't be angry.
- Haven't I said so a dozen times?
Yes, you have, Len.
It's just Cecile told the most dreadful
story today about a girl she knows.
- What's that got to do with me?
- Nothing, darling. Don't be angry.
Only...
Only it's not right we keep pretending.
- You will make it all right, won't you, Len?
- I can't have you ask me that again!
- I'm sorry.
- My word is my word.
I will marry you as soon as ever I'm 21.
- It's not long now. - I know, darling.
- I can't keep on being worried!
When a man gives his word...
If my brother knew about us...
- I know, Len. I'm sorry.
- Haven't I worries enough? Look at that.
- That's another cuff gone.
- I'll mend it for you.
That's six miles walking all
this week to pay for a new pair!
- I shall be for it tomorrow if
anyone notices. - I'm sorry. I am.
I can't breathe in here. It's too close.
- What the devil are you playing?
- Isn't it lovely?
No, it is not. You are
giving me a headache.
Both of you are giving me a
headache. Do stop quarrelling.
I've another one here called Who Threw
The Overalls In Mrs Murphy's Chowder?
- Meg! - Oh, do please
stop quarrelling! - Sorry.
What's in that letter, Meg? Bad news?
Oh, it's only a letter reminding
us that the lease has expired
and we have until May to clear out.
I know it doesn't rate as one
of life's great tragedies,
we knew it was coming, but
it's still a bit of a shock.
Good God. Where will we move?
I expect we'll find some place,
Meg. Don't be too downhearted.
Yes, luckily we have some money, too.
- What is it, Annie? - This lady,
ma'am. She... - Good afternoon.
Have I the honour of speaking
to Miss Margaret Schlegel?
No. I'm Helen.
I don't know why I should be so upset.
It's been such a happy house. Why
does it have to be swept away?
[Meg!]
Helen? Whatever is the
matter? It's all right, Annie.
- How do you do? I'm Miss Schlegel.
- Good afternoon, Miss Schlegel.
If I have the honour of addressing
Miss Margaret Schlegel...
Yes, I'm Margaret.
I have come in search of my husband,
Mr Bast, who I have some reason
to believe may be visiting the
premises, if I may be so bold.
- It's all right Annie. Thank you.
- Annie, will you go?
Yes, Miss. I'm terribly sorry, Miss.
- Now, Mrs... I'm so sorry.
- Bast, Miss.
Mrs Leonard Bast, as I think Miss
Schlegel has good reason to understand,
- without her being told twice by me.
- I'm afraid I don't, quite.
I say, what is all the hullabaloo?
- Can't a chap play the piano in
peace and quiet? - Go away, Tibby.
Won't you tell us what
this is about, Mrs Bast?
I think perhaps, Miss Schlegel,
that the explanation rests on
the other side, if you please.
But... I don't understand.
That is your card, is it not?
Yes, an old one, by the look of it.
Then will you please oblige me by
explaining how my husband came to have it?
And where he might be at this moment?
And if he is here I should like a
word with him, if you don't mind.
- Here? Your husband?
- We don't know who your husband is.
Truly we don't. We've never met a Mr Bast.
Yes, you have.
The chap with the umbrella
at the Prince Regent's Hall.
- What? - Helen stole his brolly,
Meg brought him home, and Aunt Juley
was afraid he'd take the silver.
- Don't be an idiot. - Take the silver?
- No, you must forgive my brother.
- My Len take your silver? - You must
remember? - No-one has taken anything,
and no-one is accused of taking anything.
- But this gentleman just said...
- Please, won't you come in and have some tea?
I only said our Aunt was
afraid he'd take the silver.
We never thought so. I
wasn't so jolly sure, but...
My Len would never steal
so much as a lump of coal.
- He didn't have time, he was only
here ten minutes. - Tibby be quiet!
Won't you come in?
No, no, no, thank you, Miss
Schlegel. I just... I want my Len.
And I can see now I was wrong.
Please, what's become of him?
- Tibby! Do go away at once! - Stop crying,
Mrs Bast. And tell us what it is you want?
I just want my husband. And
I thought he might be here.
- But why would you imagine that?
- Because he'd got your card, Meg.
But if he's missing, oughtn't
we to call the police?
No, no. Thank you, Miss. I'm so sorry.
- Please -- let me go.
- All right. If you had rather not.
- May I have the card, please?
- Surely. But why...?
Len'll be furious if
he knows I've come here.
Goodness. He won't strike you?
My Len? Put his hands on me?
Oh, Miss, please!
I do so beg your pardon!
- How extraordinary!
- Poor girl.
It's all right now,
Annie. No-one's to blame.
- Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss.
- Oh, Helen.
So often I feel we live chattering
away at the edge of a great abyss.
I don't want to close my eyes to it,
or comfortably pretend it isn't there,
but I don't want to live in it.
Is that very wicked and selfish of me?
It's better than your friends the
Wilcoxes, who batter their way
through the abyss, pulling
heaps of money from it.
- Not the Wilcoxes.
- That's wrong and unfair.
At least they live in the world
and not on it, or... or above it.
- What?
- Don't make fun, Tibby.
Oh, I'm tired of the whole subject.
I despise proofs. I despise
cant. I loathe taking positions.
I can only react to feelings.
They are the only guide that matters.
Yes, I think so, too. The
personal is what's important.
Your precious Ws don't think so.
Even the Ws will come face to
face with the personal some day.
Dearest Meg, there we differ.
I have seen, rather up close, I'm afraid,
what they are like in a crisis.
A rather small and tawdry
one, I grant you -- mine.
I'm afraid that, for
them, the personal was
a whirlwind which they refused to see,
and which knocked them about
the room while they tried to
sort out the best policy using
practical business methods,
which don't include whirlwinds
in the balance sheet.
But they were quite undone, because the
main force in the room was invisible to them.
But you said the best thing about them was
how they treated Mrs Wilcox, didn't you?
- Yes. - That shows something
fine in them, doesn't it?
- Yes. - This passage
is deuced difficult.
Can you imagine, really imagine,
writing it when he was deaf,
let alone playing it?
Tibby, when do you go back to Oxford?
I've just come back. I
might not go back at all.
- You have to, Tibby.
- Oh, you must go, Tibby!
You can't live on your
inheritance, you know.
Yours and Meg's supports the
two of you. Why shouldn't mine?
Because you're a man, Tibby.
Yes, you are. You must work.
It is a universal impulse.
I thought you were opposed to
cant and principles and positions,
and cared only for feelings
and personal relations.
I don't know what I think any more
at this moment, except that I wish
the two of you would stop using the
piano as a form of self-expression.
- It's very wearing. - Dear
Meg. - It's only Beethoven.
I'm sorry.
That woman upset me. She really did.
And the letter.
Where shall we live? I don't want to move.
I've lived here all my life,
and now it's to be swept away
and turned into another block
of flats like Wickham Mansions.
I don't see why they should have the right
to do that to every family on the street,
even if they do own the freehold
of Wickham. It's not just.
I know we shall find
somewhere to live, but..
- That's how your Mr W would handle it.
- Leave Meg alone.
Oh, yes. Well, that's right. When it's
my chance to score, I'm told to be quiet.
- When you're having a go at me...
- Please don't make me quarrel!
I want to go to my room, my
head is bursting. I'm sorry.
- Is that Mr Bast?
- It looks like him.
- Do you suppose it's he? - Yes, it
must be. - Annie, we'll be three for tea.
- Yes, miss. Will you have it in the drawing
room? - Yes, the drawing room, Annie, thank you.
Now, Helen, don't let's act
like fluttering idiots.
- Oh, yes, I agree. - He's bound to
be very much ashamed of himself and
I want to make him feel at home.
I think he'll be very grateful
to find we didn't mind Mrs Bast
and have nearly forgotten
the entire incident.
- Helen, I'm being serious!
- So am I serious.
I won't have him treated like a
social experiment! Do open the door.
He hasn't rung the bell. If we
open the door before he rings
- he will certainly feel like a
social experiment. - Please be quiet!
- Yes? - Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.
No doubt you can remember the
last occasion on which we met.
- Well, not exactly.
- We remember some of it.
My brother said that we stole your
umbrella from the Prince Regent's.
Yes. They were playing
Beethoven's Fifth that day.
We always go to the
Fifth when they play it.
- I do remember stealing your umbrella.
- Quite inadvertently.
I suppose you can guess the
reason for my visit today.
- Has it gone missing again?
- Helen!
No, no, it hasn't. That's
all right, Miss Schlegel.
I'm so sorry. What an idiotic joke.
Would you like to come inside?
Thank you. I should like to explain.
We are just about to sit down to some tea.
- I do hope you will join us.
- I don't like to impose.
- Oh, do, please!
- Yes, please don't refuse us!
Thanks. I should be very happy to.
- Won't you come this way?
- Thank you.
After you.
Thank you.
I still don't understand.
I went walking. That's all.
I walked all night, you see...
- Did you?!
- Did you?
Yes.
While I was gone, however, Mrs Bast
needed me on important business,
and thought I had come
here, owing to the card
Why should she think that?
Well, a card, belonging to a lady
whose name she didn't know...
Why did you never tell her about your
adventure, the time I took your umbrella?
- I didn't like to.
- Why not?
I suppose it was a secret I
wanted to keep for myself.
I don't blame her.
But she should not have come
here. If I had imagined...
It doesn't matter about that.
And all this time you were only walking?
- Yes.
- But how marvellous!
- Was it?
- Of course it was!
Where did you start from? Tell us more.
I...
Well, I took the Underground to
Wimbledon and I had a bite to eat.
But not good country there, is it?
It was gas lamps for hours.
I did get into the woods presently, and...
being out was the great thing.
Were you walking alone, may I ask?
Yes. I don't know where, nor for how long.
It got too dark to see my watch.
I rather fancy it was those North Downs.
Then I found a road to a station,
and I got the first train
I could back to London.
Was the dawn wonderful?
No. No, the dawn was only
grey. Nothing to mention.
Yes. Just a grey evening
turned upside down. I know.
Yes. Yes. And...
I was too tired to lift
my head to look at it.
Looking back, it wasn't
what you'd call enjoyment.
It was more a case of sticking to it.
Oh, hang it!
What's the good in
living in a room forever?
There one goes, one day
after day, same old game,
same up and down to town, until you
forget there is any other game.
You ought to see once, in a
way, what's going on outside.
- I should just think you ought.
- Yes.
Have you ever read Richard Jeffries?
Yes.
Or George Borrow, Stonehenge?
Yes, of course we have. But...
Well...
I've... I'm afraid I've imposed
too far on your kindness.
Thank you for the tea.
I must be going.
- But why must you go?
- You will come another time, I hope.
I say, Helen.
Well?
Do you think we'll
really follow up Mr Bast?
- I don't know.
- Do you think we might try to?
How do you do?
I thought I recognised your voices.
Whatever are you both doing here?
What an age it has been since
I last saw you, Mr Wilcox.
We're just admiring the
sunlight on the water.
- Now, tell me all your news.
- Oh, we've had a splendid afternoon.
We belong to a club that reads
papers. There's a discussion after.
Today it was on how one
ought to leave one's money.
whether to a friend, or to the poor,
and, if so, how. Most interesting.
Sounds a most original entertainment.
I wish my Evie would go
in for that sort of thing.
She's taken to breeding Aberdeen Terriers.
We pretend we're improving
ourselves, you see.
Doubtless you find it wasteful.
Not at all, no. Nothing like a
debate to teach you to be quick.
- Doesn't matter much on what subject.
- Does it not?
Oh, no, we won't argue.
I'll just put our special
case to Mr Wilcox.
He knows about the poor and
what's to be done with them.
- I don't know about that.
- Helen only means...
We've just come across a young fellow
who's evidently very poor indeed,
although he aspires to higher things, however
awkwardly, and he got mixed up in our debate.
- Yes? What's his profession?
- Clerk. - Clerk.
- What in? - What in? - Oh.
Do you remember, Helen?
The Porphyrion Fire Insurance Company.
- Porphyrion? - That's it.
- Oh, well, in that case...
Now, how should such a man be helped?
Should he be given £300 a year
direct, which was Margaret's plan?
Should he and those like
him be given free libraries?
My suggestion was that he be given something
every year towards a summer holiday.
- But then there's his wife...
- My dear Miss Schlegel, I will not rush in
where your sex has been unable to tread
Oh, why ever not?
Helen, Mr Wilcox will think you rude.
- Will he? I'm sorry.
- Not at all.
However, I'm afraid that my
only contribution would be
to let your young friend clear out
of the Porphyrion Fire Insurance
Company with all possible speed.
Why?
I oughtn't to have spoken, but I
happen to know, being more or less
behind the scenes, that it'll be in
the Receiver's hands before Easter.
The Porphyrion's a bad, bad,
concern. Don't say I said so.
- It's outside the Tariff Ring.
- Well, certainly we won't say.
We don't know what it means.
The Tariff Ring is an association
of insurance companies.
I thought an insurance company never smashed.
Don't the others always run in and save them?
You're thinking of reinsurance.
It's exactly there that the
Porphyrion is weak, I'm afraid.
- We must warn Mr Bast.
- Yes. Thank you ever so much, Mr Wilcox.
And you are still in Wickham Place?
No... Yes. We've got to move out by May.
Oh, I'm sorry.
We've just taken a place in Ducie
Street, near to Sloane Street.
And a place down in
Shropshire, Oniton Grange.
Have you heard of Oniton?
Do come and visit us.
Right away from everywhere,
it's up toward Wales.
Oh, we shall. And Howards End?
- Oh, it's let.
- Oh, what change!
I can't imagine Howards End or
Helton existing without you.
I should have kept such a
remarkable place in the family.
Oh, it is. It is, I haven't
sold it, I don't mean to.
No, but none of you are there.
And we have a splendid tenant
now, a Mr Bryce, an invalid.
Charles and his wife live
very near the old place.
- I forget whether you've been up there.
- The house, never.
No. Well...
Well, do remind Evie to come
and see us. 2 Wickham Place.
- We shan't be there much longer, either.
- Everyone moving!
Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
"Dear Mr Bast, would you do us
"the kindness of stopping at
Wickham Place tomorrow at tea-time?
"We should be so glad to see you.
Your friend, Helen Schlegel."
How do you like your work?
My work?
- Yes.
- Oh, well enough.
Your company is the Porphyrion, isn't it?
Yes, that's so.
We were told the Porphyrion's
no-go. We wanted to tell you.
That's why we wrote.
I see.
A friend of ours did say he thinks
it is insufficiently reinsured.
And he advised us to tell
you to clear out by Easter.
He did not advise us. He said
it was bound to smash by Easter.
He did not advise us to say so.
You can tell your friend he's quite wrong.
Oh, good! Our friend, who is also
a businessman, was so positive.
And he advised you to clear out of it.
He's made quite a lot of money.
I'm not one of those who mind their
affairs being spoken of by others.
- Oh, I am glad!
- Men are so tactful. Women have no tact.
- Our friend is quite rich, you
see, and seems to have a hand in
all manners of concerns. - Quite so.
But I don't see why he should
know better than you do.
One can but see. As Ibsen
says, "Things happen..."
Mr Wilcox and Miss Wilcox.
- Hello!
- Oh, the dears!
We brought the little fellows round.
I bred them myself. This
is Ahab, and that's Jezebel.
Oh, really! Mr Bast, come
play with the puppies.
- Mr Wilcox, Mr Bast.
- I must be going now.
- Must you really?
- Come again.
No. No, I shan't.
- But...
- I call that a very rude remark.
Are we intruding, Miss Schlegel?
Or can we be of any use?
It's all right, Mr Wilcox.
I... Good day.
Helen, go after him.
Ought she to?
Can I help you now?
No, it's all right. Thank
you. I'm very sorry.
He's a nice creature, really. I
cannot think what set him off.
Where are you going?
What do you want to
turn on me like that for?
- You ask me why I turn on you?
- Yes!
What do you want to have me in there for?
To help you, you silly
boy. And don't shout.
Why should you help me?
Why should I not help you?
Because... Well...
I don't want your patronage.
I don't want your tea.
I was quite happy. What do
you want to unsettle me for?
But why should you say so?
What are you looking for?
- My hat!
- Annie!
Will you please bring Mr Bast his hat?
Yes, Miss.
When you asked me to tea, I...
Yes?
Of course, if there's
been a misunderstanding...
We did not have you here
out of charity. But because
we hoped there would be a connection
between last Sunday and other days.
- We thought... - It's no good. - But...
You don't want to discuss
books with me, or music,
- or any of the things that I like...
- Mr Bast...
And I can't discuss them in your easy way.
I don't know how.
But I suppose they mean ever
as much to me as they do to you.
We don't discuss them in an easy way.
You do! You think I am
a... comic character.
- I do not.
- Here you are, sir.
That's not mine.
Annie, you have brought the
gentleman Mr Wilcox's hat.
I'm sorry, Miss. I won't be a moment.
- We don't think you're a
comic character. - But you do.
You think I'm superficial if
I want to talk about books.
If I tell you about
Carlyle. Or... or, erm...
- Ruskin?
- Ruskin, yes. Or Dostoevsky.
- Oh. Yes.
- You don't care for Dostoevsky.
Well, I don't, no. But...
Dostoevsky? I mean,
does any body like him?
- Tibby, please.
- All that eternal fainting and screaming.
You can't cut a single page without
someone collapsing on the floor.
- Tibby, go away.
- Might I have my hat, do you suppose?
Yes, yes, I can't think
where's she's got to...
Would you be so good as to introduce
me to this gentleman, Helen?
I will not. Go away, Tibby.
- We have met before.
- Have we?
I can't remember.
You're one of Meg and
Helen's social experiments?
- Tibby!
- I'm sure I don't know.
I say! Are you that poor devil
of a clerk they have debates over,
- at the Chelsea Women's
Political Club? - He is not.
I'm sure I couldn't say.
I'm sure I should be honoured if I were.
Oh, that's all right, then.
Where do you chaps stand
on the suffrage question?
- We don't get much of the working man's view in
our circle. - Nancy! - I have no fixed opinion.
- Yes, Miss? - No fixed opinion?
- Can you find Annie, please?
- She has disappeared with the
gentleman's hat. - Yes, Miss.
If you lived with Meg and Helen you'd
have a fixed opinion, and no mistake!
A lot of footle, if you ask me. I
say the world's gone off its onion.
- Tibby, if you don't go this instant,
I shall scream. - All right, then.
Mr Bast, I...
Thank you for your advice
about the Porphyrion.
I am not a businessman, like your friend.
- He is not our friend.
- I am only a clerk. But even a clerk...
- No, it's useless.
- But we're not... We only...
- Your hat, sir. - Thank you.
- Annie! Whatever has been keeping you?
I'm sorry, Miss. I'd
got them muddled and...
Oh, it's all right.
Miss Schlegel...
All I can do is go.
Thank you for trying to help me.
Goodbye.
But who was he?
He was the young man we were
to warn against the Porphyrion.
We warn him and look!
Miss Schlegel, may I
speak to you as a friend?
- Yes, of course. - In that case,
well, oughtn't you to be more careful?
- Careful?
- You're too kind.
Yes, indeed.
You behave much too well to people,
and then they impose on you.
When I came in and saw that young man
I could tell straight away that
you weren't treating him properly.
I know the type. You have
to keep them at a distance
or they take advantage.
It's sad, but true.
Let me explain why we like this young
man, and why we want to see him again.
Oh, you shall never make me
believe that you really like him!
We do. We do.
I'm afraid that you and your sister...
We want to show him how he
may get upsides with life.
Something to relieve life's daily grey.
Ah, well, that that is where you make your
mistake, Miss Schlegel. And it is a great mistake.
- Yes, indeed. - Evie.
- Where? I mean, why?
This young man has his own life.
What right have you to conclude
it is an unsuccessful one?
- Or, as you call it, "grey"?
- Because...
- One minute. - Well... - One
minute! You know nothing of him.
He probably has his own
joys and interests.
A wife, children, snug little home.
I look at the faces of the
clerks in my own office.
I don't know what's going on
beneath, I don't presume to.
- So, by the way, with London.
- Yes? - What do you know about London?
Yesterday you were pleased to admire
the sunlight on the Thames at high tide.
Well, the tide is higher and the
sunlight more pleasant because
my fellow capitalists and I have
shares in the lock at Teddington
and now we've shortened the
tidal trough under London Bridge.
Result -- higher tides for shipping,
more sunlight on the water.
Yes, I see.
You do have a nice way of taking the
poetry out of everything, Mr Wilcox.
Why should you say so?
If your poetry means what you say it does,
why should it not be proof against
a piece of civil engineering
which means millions of pounds a
year in reduced shipping costs
for every sort of business under the sun?
Your mistake, Miss Schlegel,
is only to see civilisation
from the outside.
All I can say is that
we like this young man
and we see something fine in him.
Miss Schlegel, you're a
pair of charitable creatures,
but you really ought to be more
careful in this uncharitable world.
What about your brother? What does he say?
As the man of the house,
oughtn't he to take an interest?
Excuse me. I must see what Helen is doing.
Well! What about this?
Helen?
Why, you're all alone!
Yes, he's been gone some time.
But what happened?
It's all right. Such a muddle of a man.
I like him so much.
Well, come back to the
Wilcoxes and tell me later.
Mr W is much concerned,
and slightly titillated.
Oh, I have no patience
with him. I hate him.
You hate him? I thought
him rather splendid.
Only because you dissect him.
Why should you say so?
Don't you dissect Mr Bast?
- I don't. - You do. We both do.
We're always dissecting people.
It does sound rather disgusting
when you say it like that.
Come play with puppies. And don't
discuss Mr Bast with the Wilcoxes.
They don't understand him.
- Hello! Where have you been?
- Looking at houses.
I do wish you'd find something.
I can't bear to look at any more.
I don't know what I'm looking for.
What are we going to do
with all this furniture?
And father's books? We are
simply running out of time.
We are to go nowhere and be at home
for no-one until we've found a house.
It's from Evie Wilcox,
inviting me to lunch at Simpson's
tomorrow with her fiance, Mr Cahill.
"The three of us can have a jolly chat."
Egads.
It is kind of her to remember.
Perhaps I've misjudged her.
She is so excessively athletic.
Perhaps it blocks out her
other good qualities.
I don't see why she invites me and
not you. I thought she disliked me.
Perhaps it is a ploy to drive
you into the arms of her father.
Do you think so?
It would save us the
trouble of finding a house.
Yes, that's true.
Will you go?
Oh, I must.
Stalwart Meg.
Did I tell you Father
might be at the party?
Yes, there he is!
I thought I'd get round if I could.
When I heard about Evie's little plan,
I slipped in to secure a table.
Always secure a table first.
And tip the carver. That's the golden
rule. "Tip everywhere" is my motto.
Now, Evie, don't pretend you
want to sit by your old father,
because I know you don't. Miss
Schlegel, come round my side.
That's it.
- How's your discussion society
getting on? Any new utopias? - No.
My goodness, you look tired.
Have you been worrying
after your young clerks?
No, houses. Do you know of any?
- No, I'm afraid I don't.
- What's that, Father?
We must find a new home in May.
- Someone has to find it. I can't.
- Percy, do you know of anything?
Can't say I do.
- How like you! You're never any good.
- Never any good! Just listen to her!
Never any good. Oh, come!
Well, you aren't. Miss Schlegel, is he?
- Miss Schlegel? Gruyere? Or Stilton?
- Gruyere, please.
- Better have Stilton. Evie?
- Oh, Stilton, please. - Mr Cahill?
- Have you any Gouda? - Of course
they haven't any Gouda at Simpson's.
- He'll have the Stilton.
- I don't want Stilton.
You should have whatever
you like, Mr Cahill.
Don't let Evie bully you.
How about a nice bit of
Altenburger Ziegenkase?
- I beg your pardon?
- Altenburger Ziegenkase.
It's Saxon, or Thuringian,
depending on one's loyalties.
It gets a bit gooey in the warm
weather, but otherwise it's excellent.
- I suppose you've run out?
- I'm afraid...
Well done, Miss Schlegel! Very well done!
- I'll have the Gruyere.
- Thank you, sir.
Are you coming with us to the
Hippodrome, Miss Schlegel?
No, thank you. I must get
back to my house hunting.
Oh, but you must! It's
meant to be marvellous.
They release 300,000 gallons
of water on a village wedding
and sweep away the
huntsmen and all show folk,
and the entire wedding
party into oblivion.
I should be sorry to miss that.
They say it's very realistic.
Yes, but why put Aimee Roberts
on the stage only to sweep her off
again along with 300,000 gallons
of water and a lot of huntsmen?
Why come to Simpson's
to get a French cheese?
You see? You see how she chafes me?
How's your house?
Ducie Street? Much the
same. Comfortable enough.
I don't mean Ducie Street. I
meant Howards End, of course.
- Why, "of course?"
- Can't you turn out your tenants
and let it to us instead?
We're nearly demented.
Oh, we couldn't do that.
It's let for three years.
Can't you help us, Mr Wilcox?
We're merely looking for
a small house with large
rooms, and plenty of them.
I wish I could. A piece of advice.
Fix your district and your
price and then don't budge.
That's how I got both Ducie
Street and the house in Oniton.
I thought to myself, "I
mean to be exactly here."
And I was.
Thank you ever so much, Mr Wilcox.
Next time you shall come for lunch
with me at Mr Eustace Miles.
- Pleasure. - No, you'll hate it. It's
full of proteins and body-buildings
and people coming up to you
- begging your pardon, but you have
such a beautiful aura. - A what?
Do you know, I suspect Mr Wilcox
of planning the whole entertainment?
Not really? I meant that as a joke.
Yes, but if you reflect -- I
was very fond of his wife.
She really was an extraordinary person.
- You still think so, don't you?
- Oh, yes.
And he's always preferred me
to you, which most men don't.
Well, that's something
in his favour, anyhow.
Chaperone you and Mr Wilcox
at lunch at Eustace Miles?
Are you mad?
Yes. I want to ask him. He promised to go.
He promised to eat
proteins and body-builders.
But you don't really need
a chaperone at your age?
It may surprise you, Tibby,
to learn that I am only 28.
It does, rather.
I dare say you think of me as an old maid.
But I can't go to lunch with a single
gentleman unchaperoned, that's flat.
If you don't go, I can't invite him.
All right, then.
This is ghastly.
What do you think of it, Mr Wilcox?
I told you that you would hate it.
Not at all. Not at all. It
may not suit every taste,
but it's widely known to be
the healthiest kind of food.
Tell me, though, Miss Schlegel,
do you really believe in the supernatural?
Auras, and astral planes?
That's too big a question.
No, it isn't.
- Why's that? - Because although
I don't believe in auras,
and think theosophy may
only be a halfway house.
- There may be something there after all.
- Not even that.
It may be halfway in the wrong
direction. I can't explain.
I don't believe in all these fads,
but I don't like to say
I don't believe in them.
I'm a little out of my depth.
Do you talk rather like
this to your office boy?
I talk the same way to
everyone. Or try to.
I don't believe in suiting
my conversation to my company.
One can doubtless hit upon
some medium of exchange
that seems to do well enough, but
there's no nourishment in it.
You pass it down to the lower classes,
they pass it back up to you, and
you call this a mutual endeavour,
when it's mutual priggishness
if it's anything.
Our friends at Chelsea don't see this.
They say one ought to be,
at all costs, intelligible,
- and sacrifice... - You do admit there
are rich and poor. That's something.
But of course I do.
And you do admit that, if
wealth were divided equally,
in a few years there would
be rich and poor again.
- Everyone admits that.
- Your socialists don't.
- My socialists do. Yours mayn't.
- I don't care.
You've just made two damaging admissions,
and I'm heartily with you in both.
Do you know that this wretched
hash is called Reform Food?
Have you ever heard such a
monstrous combination of words?
I think you are too severe, Mr Schlegel.
I think one should try
new things occasionally.
Yes, but not this.
I find it quite good.
Yes, it's quite good.
"Dear Miss Schlegel..."
Perhaps we ought to give up for a while
and go down to the seaside for a month.
Oh, Margaret, do come!
London is so unhealthy
at this time of year.
It's from Mr Wilcox.
He is announcing an important
change in his plans.
- Who?
- Mr Wilcox.
- He says owing to Evie's marriage,
he has decided... - Not your Wilcoxes,
- surely, Helen. - They're
Meg's. - They are not!
"Owing to Evie's marriage,
I have decided to give up
"the house in Ducie Street..."
- .. and to let it out on
a yearly tenancy. - Where?
Ducie Street. Where Mr Wilcox lives.
- But I thought... - He writes, if
you and your family approve the rent,
please notify him at once --
that's underlined twice --
- when I can go over the house with him.
- He's in love with you.
Oh, really. It's a very
business-like letter.
- Why should he be in love with me?
- Why should he not be?
Good heavens, you're not going to marry
that old man from the protein restaurant?
Marry? Margaret is engaged to marry?
Why shouldn't I, if he asks?
Oh, Meg, you wouldn't. I'm only joking.
Well, I think someone might have told me.
There's nothing to tell, Aunt Juley.
I know he's been quite attentive...
The idea's appalling. He's a
beast. He has no human feeling.
He is not a beast. You
should have seen him
humbly eating his
protein-builders at Eustace Miles.
- No-one could have been kinder.
I was proud of him. - Meg!
- Of Tibby? Well, naturally. - It
was rather a strain. - Of Mr Wilcox!
I am sorry.
But what have I said?
Oh, honestly, Aunt Juley, nothing.
I'm only so anxious about
finding a place to live.
Well, how do I prevent you?
Oh, dear, you don't.
Now, children, what's it to
be? You all know Ducie Street?
Shall I say yes or should
I say no? Tibby, which?
I specially want to pin you both.
- Say no.
- Say yes.
That's decided, then.
This is awfully kind, the
house has not been built
that suits the Schlegel family.
- Have you come determined not to deal?
- Not exactly.
I hope she hasn't been hasty.
Well, well, well, all of you!
I do not intend to forget
these Schlegels in a hurry.
If I find them monopolising my
father I intend to put my foot down.
It's heartbreaking having
to leave one's old home.
I scarcely remember anything
before Wickham Place.
- Helen and Tibby were born there. Helen says...
- You, too, feel lonely?
Horribly.
You must write.
I'll write, I promise.
A man who had little money
has less, owing to us.
Helen, neither you, nor I, nor
the directors of the Porphyrion
are to blame for this
clerk's loss in salary.
No-one is to blame.
I am.
More and more do I
refuse to draw my income
and sneer at those who guarantee it.
Only connect.
That is the whole of my sermon.