Howards End (2017–2018): Season 1, Episode 4 - Episode #1.4 - full transcript

I am asking you
to be my wife.

I know.

My letter's about, er,
Howards End.

We ought to go and
see the place sometime.

Well!
I took you for Ruth Wilcox.

If we can't live at Howards
End and you don't want to
live on Ducie St,

- where do you propose
we live?
- Oniton.

I do not intend to forget
these Schlegels in a hurry.

If I find them monopolizing
my father,

I intend to put my foot down.

They're starving.
I found them starving.



Dempster's Bank reduced their
staff and now he's penniless.

- Helen, are you mad?
- I want to see Mr. Wilcox.

I will talk to Henry
in my own way.

Don't take up that sentimental
attitude over the poor.

I mean to dislike your
husband and tell him so.

Henceforward,
I am going my own way.

Madam. You'll be more
comfortable at the hotel...

Why, it's Henry.

I believe in personal responsibility.
Don't you?

So that woman
has been your mistress?

Ten years ago. I have the
honor to release you
from your engagement.

My dearest boy.

This is not to part us.

It is everything or nothing,
and I mean it to be nothing.



It happened long
before we met

and even if it had
happened since,

I should be writing the same,
I hope.

I do understand.

Dear Mr. Bast,

I've spoken to Mr. Wilcox
about you

and I'm sorry to say
he has no vacancy for you.

Yours truly, MJ Schlegel.

Helen, give him this.
Basts are no good.

I've had a room
got up for you here

and will you please
come round on getting this?

I may go round to the Basts'
myself in the morning

and do anything
that is fair. M.

Henry, dear.

Henry, dear, look at me.

No, I won't have you
shirking. Look at me.

There, that's all.

You're referring
to last evening.

And I have released you
from your engagement.

I could find excuses,
er, but I won't.

No, I won't.

It must be left at that.

Well, leave it where you
will, my boy.

It's not going to
trouble us.

I know what
I'm talking about.

- It'll make no difference.
- No difference?

No difference when you
find out that I am not
the fellow you thought?

I'm not worthy of you.

Had I been worthy, I er...

I can't bear to talk
of such things.

We'd better leave it.

You and your...

..your sheltered life and
your...refined pursuits.

Friends. Books.

You and your sister,
women like you.

How can you guess at
the temptations that lie
around a man? I know...

by bitter experience
and yet...

you say there can be no
difference.

Not to me.

Am I the last one down?

Did Helen come?

She didn't send any messages
or anything?

None that I've heard.

Will you ring the bell,
please?

What to do?

- Why, to enquire.
- There is no bell.

The bell pull is broken.
There wasn't time to fix it.

I've, er, brought a little...
gong.

- Have you?
- Yes, it's...

Did you bring it
from London?

- Yes.
- Where did you find it?

Dolly picked it up
at Harrods.

No doubt you find our
pretensions amusing.

I don't. You mustn't
think of me that way.

You're certainly at liberty
to dictate terms.

You mustn't talk to me
like that either.

I'm scarcely in a position
to argue.

But you are.

Sir?

Please, Mr. Burton,
have you discovered,

did my sister stop here
last night?

No, Miss. Miss Schlegel slept
at the George in the village,

so far as I've heard. May I
send someone to enquire?

Or I can go round myself.

I'll go. Thank you, Burton.

It's a very simple story.

Ten years ago, in
a garrison town in Cyprus.

Afar from...
good influences.

Far, even, from England.

I was very, very lonely.

And longed to hear
a woman's voice.

That's enough. I've said too
much already for you to
forgive me now.

But I've already forgiven
you, Henry.

Tibby?
- Yes? What is it?

- It is I, Tibby.
- Helen?

Come in. Qing jinlai.

I got your telegram. I...

- Shall I serve lunch now?
- Rather.

Very good, sir.

- Are you alright? I, I didn't
know where you'd got to.
- Yes, very well.

What did you say to me
when I came in?

I? Um...
"Qing jinlai."

It's Chinese for,
"Come in, please."

There are five ways to say
"Come in" actually.

If you leave off the "Qing"
it's simply "Come in"
without the "please."

Or nearly. Then there's
"Qing jinlai ba."

Tibby...

You look rather a fright.
Anything wrong?

- I've come from Oniton.
- Oniton?

- But I thought...
- I've come from Oniton.

There's been a great deal
of trouble there.

Who's for lunch?

I don't know what's to be
done, Tibby.

I'm very much upset
at a piece of news
that concerns Meg

and did not
want to face her.

I stopped here
to tell you this.

I...mean to go to Munich
or Bonn.

As regards my share
of the furniture,

- you and she are to do
exactly as you like.
- But...

My head is rather wretched.

Has anything gone wrong
at Evie's wedding?

Not there.

It's Annie with the cutlets.
They're rather spoiled
by waiting.

Do you mind her coming in
or I can get them from her
at the door?

Could I bathe my eyes,
Tibby?

Annie? Can you come back
in a moment?

Very good, sir. Are you
quite well, Miss Helen?

Yes, quite well, Annie.
Thank you.

Leonard knew about it
all along.

Meg cannot have heard it
yet, I think.

Let them marry.

There remains the question
of compensation.

I don't see who is
to pay it if I don't.

This part is in confidence.
Meg must not hear about it.

As soon as possible,
I am placing £5,000
to your account

and when I am in Germany,
you will pay it over to Leonard
and Mrs. Bast.

Good God alive.

What's the good of
driblets?

To, to go through life having
done one thing,

to have raised one person
from the abyss?

I doubt people
will think me extraordinary.

I don't give a damn
what people think,

but it is half
of what you have.

Not nearly half.
I have far too much.

What I give will bring in
115 between two to live on.

It isn't enough.

I didn't expect you
to understand me.

I? I understand no one.

But you'll do it?

- Apparently.
- Thank you, Tibbykins.

You're being
very good to me.

Mr. Theobald Schlegel,
2 Wickham Place.

While mindful of the
generosity

which prompted
her kind offer,

I enclose Miss Schlegel's
check for £5,000,

being in no need of money

and beg you
return it to her.

Dear Helen,

Mr. Bast has returned me
your check

for which he claims
he has no need.

Dear Tibby, In that case

you must go to South London
yourself

and you must find the Basts

and make them
take the check.

Dear Helen, After taking
a great deal of trouble

to hunt up your client's
domicile in Lambeth,

I have tried time and again
to find Mr. Bast and his
wife,

but they seem to have
disappeared off the face of
the Earth.

I must admit,
in the fullness of my heart,

that considering the
temptation offered him,

your Leonard Bast
seems to me

a monumental person
after all.

Dear Tibby,
You must find them.

It is insupportable that
they should be homeless

and that I should be
the cause.

Dear Helen, It's no use.

I'm afraid you'll have to
abandon

your philanthropic venture

and reinvest your money in
some sensible concern.

On the advice of our new
future brother-in-law,

I myself have lately bought
shares

in the Nottingham and Derby
railway

and consequently become
rather richer than I was
before.

I suggest you do the same.
Tibby.

Dearest Helen,

Henry and I were married
Tuesday.

Tibby and Aunt Juley were
there.

Also Charles and Mr. Carhill
to represent the Wilcoxes.

After Oniton, I didn't mind the
smallness of the ceremony

but I did wish my dear Helen
had been there as well.

Henry and I wonder about
coming to visit you in
Innsbruck.

I'm really longing
to meet you

if you're
stopping there still.

Dear Meg, I plan on
leaving for Lake Garda

where I mean to stop
for a few weeks.

But I'm afraid my plans
are uncertain

and had better be ignored.

"Although I shall most likely be
spending the summer

in Italy, possibly Naples.

H."

What an unsatisfactory
postcard.

Do you know, I believe she
fled Innsbruck

because we suggested coming
there.

I suppose she dislikes
meeting you.

Well, I'm sorry for that.

Certainly I bear her
no ill will.

Why should you not?
She's lost all self-control.

It's maddening and not like
her, Henry.

I suppose if there is a war,
Helen will have to come back.

Mind the Schlegels
don't repatriate

back to Prussia
when it comes.

I shall not allow you
to go with them.

No fear of that, my boy.

The Schlegels are English to
the backbone, as my Aunt
Juley says.

Of course,
she only says that

when she suspects us
of being unduly German.

We should ask your aunt
here to Ducie Street soon.

Henry, why don't we invite
her to Oniton instead?

- She's longing to see it.
- Whatever for?

I've only just
let the place.

Let Oniton?

- Henry...
- Yes?

But I thought...you said
we were going to live there.

Did I? No.
It's no good, you know.

Why wasn't I consulted?

Well,
I didn't want to bother you.

Besides, I've only just heard
for certain this morning.

Well, where are we to live?

Why isn't it good? I love
the place extraordinarily.

Well, it's the wrong part
of Shropshire for one thing.

I didn't realize
when I bought it. And er...

For another,
the house is damp.

This is news. I never
heard until this minute

that Oniton Grange was damp.

My dear girl, have you not
eyes? Have you not a skin?

I thought I had.

How could it be anything other
than damp in such a situation?

The grange is built on clay.

And there's that detestable
little lake steamer...

- Detestable?
- Well, detestable's
perhaps too strong a word,

but you know what I mean.
These Shropshire valleys are
notorious.

- Why did you go there,
then?
- Because I...

Well, why...why do, why do you
want to go to Innsbruck

- if it comes to that?
- To visit Helen, Henry.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, but one
might go on asking questions
indefinitely.

The truth is that I... I took
Oniton on account of Evie.

She was so keen
on a country wedding,

wouldn't wait for me
to make proper enquiries
about the shooting.

She was afraid it would be
snapped up.

Well, there is no shooting
at Oniton Grange.

There isn't a grouse or a
partridge within five miles
of the place.

Well, there's no harm done.
She had her country wedding

and I've got rid of my house
to some fellows

who are starting a
preparatory school.

Won't the boys be damp?

Well, that's their look-out.

I've told the fellows the
condition of the place. They've
been through it themselves.

Where are we to live?
I shall enjoy living somewhere.

I've not yet decided.

Well, it's not yet May. So
suppose we camp out here
in Ducie St

for the moment, then look
for somewhere in the summer.

Somewhere permanent, Henry.
We leave Wickham
in a few weeks.

No fear. There are rooms
enough here

for your brother and your
sister Helen, too.

That's not what I mean.

Then what?

- May I?
- Certainly.
- Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Dearest Helen,

Today the last box was
packed.

The last of the
furniture wrapped,

and the last van has rumbled
away from Wickham Place.

I don't know
if I should mind so much

if another family were to
move in once we've gone.

But the house is to be torn
down with the others

to make room for a new block
of flats.

I am glad, though, that
you never saw the house

with the life gone from it.

But it seems so odd
to say goodbye to our home
without you.

Henry would say it is only
sentimentality,

as Tibby is no further away
than Ducie Street

and you no farther away
than ever.

Which, Helen, is too far.

Henry has most kindly
offered Howards End

as a warehouse.

Until he re-lets it, we are
welcome to stack our
furniture

and books in the garage
and lower rooms.

They've been entrusted
to the guardianship
of Miss Avery,

whom, you will remember,

lives at the farm
down the road.

Meanwhile, after
much discussion,

we have decided to go
down to Sussex and build.

The plans will not be ready
until the autumn.

Dear Helen, Do tell me
when you are coming home

or command me
to ask no more.

Tibby says you are inside
the Triple Alliance

and feeling encircled.

I told him you were to move
south to Italy...
Dear Helen,

Dolly and Charles who have
had their latest baby

have had to give up their
motor car.

Why Charles has not more of
the Wilcox fortune

I cannot fathom.

I urged Henry to give them
all he can,

but he says a man must make
his own way in the world.

I do miss you terribly.

I wish you would write me
a proper letter.

- Dolly! How are you?
- I'm well. How are you?

Good. How are the boys
and the baby?

The boys and the baby
are well.

Yes. Um...

There's the plans.

- Does it matter
me seeing them?
- No, of course not.

Um, how's Helen? Is she never
coming back to England?

Everyone thinks it's so awfully
odd that she doesn't.

- So it is.
- Helen is odd, awfully.

But hasn't she any address?

A poste restante somewhere
in Bavaria is her address.

Do drop her a line.
I'll look it up for you.

No, don't bother.

Have you heard the news?

Miss Avery's been unpacking
your packing cases.

Why's she done that?
That wasn't necessary.

Ask another. I supposed
you ordered her to.

I gave her no such orders.

Perhaps she was
airing the things.

It was far more than air.

The floor stands covered
with books.

Charles sent me to know
what is to be done,

- for he feels certain that
you don't know.
- Books?

Dolly, are you serious?
She's been touching our
books?

Hasn't she, though!
What used to be the hall's
full of them.

Dolly, I'm much obliged.

I must go down about them
at once.

Some of them belonged to my
brother and they're quite
valuable.

Well, she has no right
to unpack our cases.

I say she's dotty.

Miss Avery?
It's Mrs. Wilcox.

Are you there, please?

Miss Avery?

Well, come right in,
Mrs. Wilcox.

Thank you so much.

I didn't know...

Come right into
the hall first.

But...

This is my father's sword.

I didn't know if it was best
hung with the scabbard or
without.

Miss Avery, I'm afraid
this isn't what we meant.

Mr. Wilcox and I never
intended our cases to be
touched.

When you kindly undertook
to look after these things,

we never expected you
to do so much.

The house has been empty
long enough.

I dare say
we didn't explain it.

It's a mistake. Very likely
our mistake.

Mrs. Wilcox.

It has been mistake upon
mistake for 50 years.

I don't know.

I really don't know
what's to be done.

I dare say...

Thank you very much,
Miss Avery.

Yes.

That's alright.

It's delightful.

It's delightful.

There's still the parlor
and the dining room.

It's all a mistake.
It's a misunderstanding.

Mr. Wilcox and I are not going
to live at Howards End.

Indeed?

We've settled on building
a new home for ourselves
in Sussex.

Part of the furniture,
my part,

will be going down there
presently.

You think you're not
coming back to live here,
Mrs. Wilcox,

but you will.

That remains to be seen.

We have no intentions
of doing so presently.

We happen to need
a larger house.

Circumstances...

Of course, some day...
One never knows, does one?

"Some day"? Don't talk about
"some day"!

You are living here now!

Am I?

To Miss Helen Schlegel,
Poste Restante, Munich.

Aunt Juley ill. Stop.

Come at once to Swanage.
Stop.

Love. Stop. M.

Aunt Juley? Darling?

Dear children.

You see, Doctor?

These are my sister's
children.

I said all the time
they would come.

And now they're here.

But we've been here
for days, Aunt Juley.

You say the same thing
every morning.

- Do I?
- Tibby, hush.

It doesn't matter, darling.
You've been ill.

- What's the matter with me?
- It's only a chill.
- You've got pneumonia.

She has got pneumonia.
You've got pneumonia,
Aunt Juley.

Pneumonia?

You caught a chill and it
developed into pneumonia.

But the doctor says
you may be getting stronger.

Where's Helen?

We telegraphed her to come.

Got a telegram from Munich.

She'll be in London on the
morrow,

- down by the first train.
- There are three of them.

You see, Doctor.
Such eccentric children,

but loveable,
very loveable.

Not to everyone, you know.

But I'm very partial
to them.

Especially the girls.

I think perhaps
your aunt should rest.

Truth is, she seems
to be getting stronger.

Bit of luck,
she may yet pull through.

I do hope so.

Margaret.

Could you not take some
steamer expeditions

when Helen comes?

The weather is so beautiful.

And Tibby
can do his Chinese.

Helen won't be able to stop,
Aunt Juley.

She telegraphed that she
could only get away just to
see you.

She must go back to Germany
as soon as you're well.

Really? Helen is odd.

Helen is odd. Very.

Read this letter
she's written me.

She doesn't mean
to come down at all.

Her London address will be
care of the bankers

and we're to write
or wire her there.

"Is our furniture still at
Howards End?

I should like to take out
one or two books.
The rest are for you.

- Your loving Helen."
- What does it mean?

- Perhaps she's mad.
- Tibby!

If you write to her that Aunt
Juley is still in danger,

she is sure to come down.

You wouldn't even lie to
Aunt Juley about pneumonia.

I didn't consider that
Aunt Juley was unbalanced.

- And you consider Helen is?
- You said so yourself.

I said she was
out of balance.

What?

I don't know what to think,
Tibby. I don't.

It's been ever so long.
I'm dreadfully worried.

We'll tell her to meet us at
the bankers in London.

If she wants us to tell her

where to find her bloody
furniture.

Let's try that.

I was so sure she'd turn up.

What now, Tibby, love?

It's extraordinary. Why
don't you ask Mr. Wilcox?

Henry? Why?

Well, you know best,
but he is practical.

Margaret's point is this,
her sister may be mad.

- Surely not?
- Charles, come in.

Charles,
can you help us at all?

- We are again in trouble.
- I'm afraid I cannot.

What are the facts?

Surely you don't mean
she really is mad?

The facts are that Helen has
been in England for three days

and she will not see us.

She has forbidden the bankers
to give us her address.

There are other facts, but
these are the most striking.

- Has she never behaved like
this before?
- Of course not.

She's grieving us deeply.

That's why I'm sure
that she's not well.

Mad is too terrible a word,
but she is not well.

Well, it's perfectly easy.
Leave it to me.

You want to get hold of her,
she wants her books,

so we send her down to
Howards End, tell her she
must unpack them herself

- and you meet her there.
- That's just what
she won't let me do.

Of course you won't tell her
you're going.

- It's quite impossible.
- Why?

It doesn't seem impossible
to me.

- Nor me.
- It's impossible,
because...

..because it's not the
particular language

- that Helen and I talk,
if you see what I mean.
- I see.

- No, I see.
You have scruples.
- Yes.

Sooner than go against them

you would have your sister
suffer alone

because she wishes it?

She may be ill, she may be
mad as you fear,

- but your, your scruples
forbid a deception.
- I deny it's madness.

My dear, do you want
my help or not?

- Yes, but not in this way.
- Pater, we may as well
keep Howards End out of it.

The whole house
is at sixes and sevens.

Who's "we", my boy?
Pray, who's "we"?

I'm sure I beg your pardon.

I appear always
to be intruding.

Now then, if you want
my help, you have it.

Meg.

- Yes, alright.
- Good.

I will dictate.

"Dear Helen, The furniture
is all at Howards End

but can be seen on Monday
next at 3:00pm

when a charwoman
will be in attendance.

Margaret."
Or what you will.

And after luncheon,
Henry and I

will ambush Helen
in the garden

and then pack her away
to the madhouse, I suppose,

if she doesn't appear to be
overjoyed when she sees us.

Tibby...

Mi...

Anything wrong with you,
Charles, this afternoon?

No, Pater.

But you may be taking on a
bigger business than you
reckon.

How so?

Don't ask me.

Well, she's at the house.

I went round to
the livery stable

and they say a lady arrived
after lunch, took a cab
to Howards End.

I can't make it out.

- Finish your coffee, dear.
We must be off.
- Yes, Margaret.

You know you must
take plenty.

Yes.

Margaret, you're not fit
for it. Let me go.

Let me go alone.
I know exactly what to do.

Yes, I am fit. Only most
frightfully worried.

There.

We'll be off.

There's a gentleman downstairs
after Mrs. Wilcox.

- She's not here.
- He's in quite a state.

Tell him she's
at Howards End.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox have
taken a car to Howards End.

- When will they be back?
- Mr. Schlegel doesn't know.

By accounts, she'd have
already arrived at Howards End

and our first move will be to
send her down to wait at the
farm.

Now, Crane won't drive in
but he'll wait a little
short of the front gate

just behind the laurels. You
have the keys to the house?

- Hen, Henry, really...
- And if we don't find her
at the porch,

then we can stroll round
into the garden.

Our object...

- Why have we stopped?
- Pick up the local doctor.

- Is that the doctor?
- He's a very good man.

- He's scarcely
older than Tibby.
- She needs to see a doctor.

We can take her to see
an older one if we
get the chance later.

Margaret, you've asked me
to help, so I'm helping.

- Good afternoon, Mansbridge.
- Good afternoon, Mr. Wilcox.
- May I present Mrs. Wilcox?

- Margaret, this is Mr.
Mansbridge, the doctor.
- How do you do?

On we go, Crane.

I was saying to my wife,
Mr. Mansbridge,

that our main object should
not be to frighten
Miss Schlegel.

The trouble's evidently
nervous. Wouldn't you
say so, Margaret?

I must ask if the girl has
had any sort of shock.

No, no. Nothing like that.

Is there anything hereditary
or congenital?

She was always highly strung.
Tendency to...spiritualism,

that sort of thing.
Nothing, nothing serious.

Musical, literary, artistic,
that sort of thing.

But I should say normal.

Charming girl.

- Please wait here for me.
- Margaret, I insist.

- I'll go in first.
- Margaret...

Margaret!

Margaret!

Meg?

My darling.

- Is the truant alright?
- Yes, yes, alright.

My darling, forgive me.

Margaret? You look upset.
Let me come inside.

- I want you to
wait in the car.
- Go away, Henry.

Give me the keys. What have
you been doing with Helen?

- Dearest, you go away.
I will manage it.
- Manage what?

- Stop that at least!
- Stop? Stop what?

Stop what? Come,
this is an odd beginning.

I cannot help it. Please,
all four of you must go now.

- Mr. Wilcox.
- Stop!

We are relying on you
to help us, Mrs. Wilcox.

Could you persuade your
sister to come out?

On what grounds?

Come, come, Margaret.

This is an appalling
business.

Doctor's orders.
Open the door.

- Forgive me but I will not.
- You need us, Mrs. Wilcox.
And we need you.

- Quite so.
- I do not need you
in the least.

Nor does my sister, who is
still many weeks from her
confinement.

- Margaret. Margaret.
- From whom do you pretend
to hide this dreadful secret?

- Mrs. Wilcox...
- You are not qualified

to attend my sister,
Mr. Mansbridge.

- Henry, send your doctor away.
What possible use is he now?
- I must ask you to be calm.

For one sensible remark,
I will let you in.

But you cannot make it.

You will trouble my sister
for no reason.

I will not permit it. I will
stand here all the day sooner.

Perhaps not now,
Mr. Mansbridge.

Now, Henry, you.

Go away now, dear.

I sh-shall want your advice
later, no doubt.

Helen and I will stop here.

Forgive me if I've been
cross, but you must go.

Come now,
Mr. Wilcox.

But why go at all?

Helen, I must speak to
Henry. He is my husband.

This is his house, not ours.

- Charles may say no.
- Well, then we
won't consult him.

Expect me back before dark.

Dolly has not been told.

- Has she not?
- No.

Margaret, you are come!

Er, will I bring tea,
Mr. Wilcox?

No, thank you, Dolly.

Will you wheel the
baby inside, please?

But the diddums can't listen.
He isn't six months old.

That's not what I was saying.
We desire to be alone.

Desires us to be sent away!

Well, we'll go inside
together, diddums.

Yes, we will!

Can I bring you nothing,
Margaret?

Nothing at present.
Thank you, Dolly.
You're very kind.

Will you sit, my dear?
You must be very tired.

Thank you, I'm well enough.

Er, is it what we feared?

Yes.

My dear girl, there is
troublesome business ahead.

And nothing but the
most absolute honesty

and plain speech will do.
Now, I am...

As you know, I am not one
of your Bernard Shaws

who consider nothing sacred.

We are husband and wife,
you and I, not children.

I am a man of the world

and you are...you are a
most exceptional woman.

Was your sister wearing a
wedding ring?

No.

I see.

I am now obliged to ask
the name of her seducer.

- Seducer?
- Yes.

I don't know her
seducer's name.

She would not tell you?

I never even asked her
who seduced her.

- That is singular.
- Why?

It is in Helen's interests
that we are acting.

- Who is "we"?
- I thought it best to ring
Charles.

He's at once gone to
call on your brother.

- That was unnecessary.
- It is still not too late
to save her name.

Are we to make her seducer
marry her?

- If possibly, yes.
- Henry.

Suppose it turns out
that he is married already?

One has heard of such cases.

If that is the case, then he
should be thrashed within an
inch of his life.

And as for Helen staying
the night at Howards End,

I think that is...I think
that is highly inadvisable.

I will take her to London
tomorrow.

She cannot stay in England.

She will go to Munich
until the child is born.

I only ask that she and I
be permitted

to spend one night
amongst our own things

before she goes.
Will you give us leave?

- I cannot.
- Why?

Would her condition
depreciate the property?

My dear!
You're forgetting yourself.

Helen commands my sympathy
as your husband.

I...I will do all for her
that I can,

but I cannot treat her
as if nothing has happened.

It is my request and the
request of an unhappy girl.

Tomorrow she will go to
Germany and trouble you
no longer.

Tonight she asks, we ask...

..to spend one night
in your empty house,

a house you do not
care about,

a house that you have not
occupied for a year.

May she?

Will you give my sister
leave?

Will you forgive her
as you hoped to be forgiven?

As you actually have been
forgiven.

As I actually have been
forgiven?

Yes.

I have my children

and the memory
of my dear Ruth to consider.

I am afraid that your sister
had better sleep at the
hotel. I'm sorry.

But see that she leaves
my house at once.

- You mentioned Mrs. Wilcox.
- I beg your pardon?

A rare occurrence. In reply,
may I mention Mrs. Bast?

You have not been yourself
all day.

No more of this, Henry.
You will see the connection
if it kills you.

You have had a mistress,
I forgave you.

Helen has a lover, you
drive her from the house.

I've had enough of your
unweeded kindness.

You have been spoiled
long enough.

All your life
you have been spoiled.

Mrs. Wilcox spoiled you.

No one has ever told you
what you are.

You are muddled.
Criminally muddled.

Don't repent.

Just say to yourself,
"What Helen has done,
I have done."

- The two cases are
different.
- In what way different?

You have betrayed Mrs.
Wilcox, Helen only herself.

You remain in society,
she can't.

You have had only pleasure.
She may die.

You were lonely.
You were lonely.

You have the insolence
to talk to me

about differences, Henry.

I do not give you
and your sister leave

to sleep at Howards End.

If a man played about
with my sister, I'd send
a bullet through him.

- But perhaps
you don't mind!
- I mind very much.

You're hiding something.

When you saw her last, did
she mention anyone's name?

- Yes or no?
- Er, Wickham Place.

She mentioned some friends,
called the Basts.

Great Scott. One of the
guests at the wedding

told me about some ragtag.

- Was she full of them when
you saw her?
- Excuse me?

I ask you, was there a man?
Did Helen speak of the man?

- Have, have you had any
dealings with him?
- See here, Wilcox.

She is my sister
and whatever she's done

I'm not to be bullied, not
even in your father's house.

I see.
You're in his confidence.

They met at your house in
Wickham Place or, or she spoke
of them.

I know nothing of the matter
and have nothing more to say.

What a family!

What a family.
God help the poor pater.

Are you sure we won't
be evicted before dawn?

Quite sure.

I do hope so.

I'm so tired, Meg.

But I am steady now.

Shall never rave against
Wilcoxes any more.

I understand how
you married him and...

will now be very happy.

My Helen.

Poor Leonard.
He was not to blame.

Right up to the end, we were
Mr. Bast and Miss Schlegel.

I was very lonely.

I want never to see him
again.

Though it sounds appalling.

He would have gone on
worshipping me.

Meg, the little that is
known about these things.

Except Mrs. Wilcox, dearest.

No one understands
our little movements.

Can I do anything for you,
sir?

I can't sleep, my boy.

I think we had better have
a talk, get it over.

I cannot let this kind of
thing continue.

I shall do all I can for
Helen, but

on the understanding that
they clear out of the house.

You see?

Then at 8.00 tomorrow
I may go up in the car.

8.00 or earlier.

And, of course,
use no violence, Charles.

Hello, Len?

What ho, Len!

What ho, Jacky!

I'm going out for a bit.

Going out? What time is it?

It's early yet.
Go back to sleep.

I'll see you again later.

I really must
insist you leave at once!

It wouldn't do
for others to see.

Our family's quite the most
respected in the village

and so if anyone, God forbid,
should see you...

Mr. Bast.

Is he here?

I'm not surprised.

Now I shall thrash him
within an inch of his life!

Mrs. Wilcox,
I've done wrong...

No!

- Charles!
- Where's a stick? Damn you!

Charles!
Charles, no, no!

Helen!

Leonard, come away!

- No! Stop it!
- Please stop!

No!

Leonard?

Leonard...

Thank you for coming.

- Did you get my message?
- Message? No.

I'm going to Germany
with my sister.

I must tell you now I shall
make it my permanent home.

I...I'm unable to forgive
you and I'm leaving you.

Here are your keys.

I...I have something
I'd like to tell you.

I don't want to hear it.
My sister is going to be ill.

My life is going to be with
her now.

- Where are you going?
- Munich.

We start after the inquest.

- After the inquest?
- Yes.

Have you realized what the
verdict at the inquest
will be?

Yes.
Mr. Bast had heart disease.

He had not long to live.
The...what happened

only brought on the
inevitable.

- That's what the doctor
said.
- The verdict...

at the inquest will be
manslaughter.

Manslaughter.

There can be no other.

I've spoken to the police.

I've spoken to
the magistrate.

I've used all my influence.

But Charles
will go to prison.

I dare not tell him.

I don't know what to do.

I'm...I'm broken.

I'm ended.

But...

I wish Henry was out here
to enjoy this.

This lovely weather.

To be shut up in the house,
it's very hard.

Meg, is he ill?
I can't make it out.

Not ill. Eternally tired.

He's worked hard all his
life and noticed nothing.

Most people collapse when
they do notice a thing.

Meg, may I tell you
something?

- I like Henry.
- You'd be odd if you didn't.

- I usen't to.
- Usen't...

I do hope it will
be permanent, Meg.

Two years ago, I should
never have guessed.

- You did it all, sweetest.
- I?

Yes. Though you're far too
stupid to see.

You picked up the pieces
and made us a home.

Can't it strike you
even for a moment

that your life
has been heroic?

No, darling.
It's not like that at all.

But it is.

Take care.

The conclave's breaking
at last. I'll go.

My father has asked for you.

We have been talking
business,

but I dare say you knew
about it beforehand.

Yes, I did.

Is this going to suit
everyone?

'Cause I don't want you all
coming here later on

complaining that
I've been unfair.

- It's apparently
got to suit us.
- I beg your pardon, my boy.

You have only to speak
and I shall leave the house
to you instead.

And what would I do with the
house when I'm in Africa?

Well, you may not be in Africa
for much longer, my boy, the
way things are looking now.

Nevertheless,
I shan't want to be here.

This arrangement suit you,
Evie?

- Of course, father.
- And you, Dolly?

Perfectly splendidly.

I thought Charles wanted it
for the boys

but last time I saw him
he said no

because he cannot possibly
live in this part of England
again.

Charles says we ought to
change our name

but I cannot think what to,

for Wilcox just suits
Charles and me.

And I can't think
of any other name.

Then I leave Howards End
to my wife, absolutely.

And let everyone
understand that.

And after I am dead,
let there be no jealousy

and no surprise.

In consequence,
I leave my wife no money.

That is her own wish.

All that she would have had
will be divided among you.

She intends after she dies

to leave the house
to her...her nephew,

down in the field.
Does everyone understand?

"Down in the field."
Come...

Paul, you promised
to take care.

Goodbye, old girl.
Don't you worry about me.

- Goodbye, Dad.
- Goodbye, Mr. Wilcox.

It does seem curious
that Mrs. Wilcox

should have left Margaret
Howards End

all that time ago, and yet
she gets it after all.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Bye, Dolly.

So long, Father.

Bye, my boy.

Always
take care of yourself.

Goodbye, Mrs. Wilcox.

Goodbye.

Could you tell me, Henry...

..what was that about
Mrs. Wilcox leaving me
Howards End?

Yes, she did.

That is a very old story.

When she was ill and you
were so kind to her,

she wanted to make you
some return and...

not being herself, she...

she scribbled on a piece
of paper, "Howards End."

I went into it thoroughly
and...

as it was clearly fanciful
I set it to one side,

little knowing what my Margaret
would be to me in the future.

I didn't do wrong, did I?

You didn't, darling.

Nothing
has been done wrong.

Who's that?

Here they are at last!

Dear! Sorry, darling,
I'm sorry.

Helen, what is it?

The grass is coming up
like mad.

We've seen to the very end

and it'll be such
a crop of hay as never!