Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (2015): Season 1, Episode 3 - Chapter Three: The Education of a Magician - full transcript

My government will assist
you in any way you wish.

Mr Segundus has it in mind to
establish a school for magicians.

I think this will suit
our purpose nicely.

You of all people should know that

Gilbert Norrell does not look
favourably on other magicians.

But you are his equal, Mr
Strange. You are his equal.

Look at what one magician
has been able to accomplish.

Only consider what two might do.

No, I must NOT go to sleep.

The doctors found nothing?

I'm sorry. Magic cannot cure madness.



'Send him to Portugal?'

I'm astonished you would
suggest such a thing.

Every man must be prepared to
make sacrifices for his country

in time of war.

Jonathan, when I saw Lady Pole
at Harley Street, I promised her

that I should tell you something.

~ What is it?
~ She told me that...

He awoke to find the carpet covered
in legions of tiny people

about two inches high.

They rode white polecats.

Lady Pole is not in her wits.

She hates Mr Norrell, Jonathan.

Mr Strange should know what kind
of a man he is dealing with.

What a strikingly attractive woman.



Sir.

The bargain is done. Half her life.

I have need of new companions.

Lady Pole!

LADY POLE!

Mrs Strange! Oh, do
you visit Lady Pole?

How very Christian
of you. How is she?

She's very well.

Sir Walter puts me off with
one excuse after another.

It is always the same - Her Ladyship
is unwell or a little better,

but never quite well
enough to see anybody.

Apart from you, it would seem.

If she is ill, then, of course,
the rabble must be kept away,

but I saw her when she was a corpse.

Oh, yes.

You know, some people think that
her resurrection has made her proud

and unwilling to mix
with ordinary mortals,

but I think the truth
is quite different.

I think it has bred in her a
taste for morbid experiences.

What do YOU say?

I beg your pardon, Mr Drawlight,

but I am quite unable to give you
the information that you require.

It'll be found out in the end.

I ALWAYS find it out.

Odious, odious little man.

I am cheered to see you
so occupied, my Lady.

This would look very pretty with
a little flower sewn on the sleeves.

You may cut up those dresses.

But they are so very fine.

Perhaps. I have a more
important use for them now.

Is this your wedding dress?

Cut it up.

M-My Lady, it may seem
a long time distant,

but you may have a daughter one day.
It would give you great sorrow...

I will have no daughter.

I would not offer up a child,
least of all a little girl.

They save up all their children
to pay off their tithes

to the Lord of Hell.

What does Your Ladyship sew?

Lost-Hope.

And who do you sew it for?

For you.

She is as secret as the grave, sir.

There is no gossip to be had about
Lady Pole anywhere in town.

I fear we shall never
discover her secrets.

There.

May I?

If you're done with me
relieving folks of letters,

I'll be off to see
a man about a school.

Mrs Strange.

Oh, Mr...

How is your husband? Is he still...

wherever he is?

I, er... I have not heard from him.

He is sure to be bored
at home, Madam,

as soon as he has tasted war.

Over here.

Excuse me? Excuse me?

Hello, I am the magician.

I wonder where in Lisbon
I might find Wellington?

LORD Wellington is not in Lisbon.

Well, where am I to find him?

Lord Wellington does not
stay in one place, sir.

Lord Wellington goes
wherever he is needed.

And Lord Wellington
is needed everywhere.

His Lordship's in the Lines, sir.

Ah, the Lines. Capital, capital.

Altogether, come on.

Can we get one of your friends and
find out what the Lines are, hmm?

Excuse me, my good man. Er...

Yes.

Er... excuse me, I say...

Winespill! The gunpowder! Winespill!

Yes, sir! Right away, sir!

Hello. I'm the magician.

Are you indeed? Winespill!

Yes, sir!

Do you, by any chance, know when
Lord Wellington will come back?

I do not. Lord Wellington is...

In the Lines, yes. Yes, I know.

They're only shooting squirrels.

Norrell was quite correct -

the position of magician is, by
no means, well enough respected.

Winespill!

I have them, sir.

Some idiot was sitting in front.

Attention!

My orders were perfectly clear. I
think you were to take the cannon

~ into the caves at Cartaxo.
~ In fairness to ourselves

~ and the Portuguese...
~ Senator Hawkins, ask him how he considers

~ we feed 200 men on eight chickens.
~ Yes, my Lord.

You and the Portuguese drew
attention to the convoy,

got my new artillery captured.
I had considered you my best

Intelligence Officer, Grant.

I'm gravely disappointed. Who
the devil do you think YOU are?

~ The magician, my Lord.
~ Norris?
~ Um, Norrell, my Lord.

But he is in London. I am Strange.

Indeed. Grant, talk
to Capitan Saornil

and the Guerrilleros.
Offer them as much gold

as they can fill their pockets with.

~ I must have those guns for the advance.
~ My Lord.
~ Er... my Lord.

What I chiefly require, sir,
is more artillery and more men.

~ Can you make them appear?
~ An interesting question, my Lord.

In the book De Generibus
Artium Magicarum...

I don't care about the book De
Generibus Artium Magicarum, sir.

~ Can you make them appear or not?
~ I can make it rain, my Lord.

It's rained all winter. It's
only just stopped raining.

You and this other gentleman
have been a great nuisance

to the army, sir. These visions
you've shown the ministers

have convinced them they know
how matters stand in Portugal.

They do not. Only I know what needs
to be done in Portugal, sir,

because only I am acquainted
with all the circumstances.

What I say is, I have no
need of a magician here.

I could bring down a plague of
locusts upon the French, my Lord.

~ Or frogs.
~ You'd do just as good to drop
roast chickens on them, sir!

Goodnight!

It looks very splendid, sir.

Childermass.

You cannot do this, sirs. You
must give up this notion.

He'll get to know, sirs.

And it would be better that you wind
up the business before he does.

I did not sign that agreement.

Do you think it matters? You
must choose some other business,

not a school for magicians.

The next time I hear that a lord

or a lady has need of such a place,

I will send them your way.

I do not want another
kind of business.

I'll be seeing you.

This is tyranny, sir. This
is tyranny, pure and plain!

Damn you, sir, and damn Mr Norrell!

This way of doing business
will come back and haunt him!

Well, my Lady, your tapestry
has come a long way.

It is for you... to show the freedom
that has been taken from me.

Come closer, I will show you.

This is Stephen. This is
Stephen, the king-to-be.

Here I am, with a rose at my mouth.

The reason I cannot
speak clearly of it.

Will you write to your
husband of this?

Well, I write to my
husband of everything.

I hope my letters cheer him.

One from him would
certainly cheer me.

We live in blackness and misery,
all the days of our lives.

My Lady, you are surrounded
by many wonderful things.

The love of your husband - do
you not consider it a blessing?

My husband's love has
never done me any good.

Never shortened a dreary
ball by so much as a minute.

Do you consider your husband's love

to have ever saved you from anything?

Well, I think I am more in
the habit of saving HIM.

Mr Strange is not the
most patient of men.

Often, when people hector
him about magic...

You will tell him. You
will write to Mr Strange.

If Your Ladyship wishes, of course.

Yes.

He is the King of Lost-Hope.

It's very striking.

I thought I had explained myself.
I am making it for you.

And I am very flattered...

It is not a present for you because
you are my particular friend.

It is because you are the
only person who will see me.

It is because your
husband is who he is.

~ My Lady!
~ Shh, Stephen!
~ Um... Perhaps I should, um...

Mrs Strange, if I cannot say
it to you, I must show it.

~ Lady Pole is there.
~ Mm-hm.

Tell your husband!
Stephen, does she see?

~ She doesn't see.
~ My Lady...

She doesn't see.

She doesn't see.

'It is not easy for me to ask,'

Sir Walter, I... I hope
you do not take it amiss.

But it is a very hard thing
for a lady, or anyone,

to fix their mind upon
cheerful thoughts

when their circumstances
are so enclosed and dreary.

Do you suppose I have not done
everything I can for my wife?

~ No, I merely...
~ She does not have the will to go out.

Bells, crowds, society - all these
things distress her. And if...

Forgive me, Mrs Strange, this is to
remain strictly between ourselves.

If she is allowed freedom
to go about the house,

she has more than once
hurt herself very badly.

Can you not speak to Mr Norrell?

Mr Norrell says that magic
cannot cure... madness.

She was not mad before the magic.

She was dead, Madam.

Perhaps there was some
irregularity with the spell?

I asked Mr Strange about that.

He could not bring himself to broach
the subject with his tutor.

Your wife has asked me to
write to my husband, sir,

and to tell him, well,
of the details of her...

To the world beyond the doors
of Harley Street, Madam,

beyond ourselves, Norrell and her doctors,
my wife is... merely unwell.

You made me a promise when you asked
if you might continue to visit her

that you would say nothing
of what she told.

I expect you to keep that promise.
Even between husband and wife.

Good afternoon.

Whatever are we doing here, sir?

This is the magician's house.

Why, to discover her heart's
desires, Stephen.

The very thing that she
would give her world for.

Sir, must you take people like this?

From the order of their house,
from those who love them?

Oh, who loves her, Stephen? Not the
magician, he has abandoned her.

Who loves Lady Pole with
her dreary disposition?

And who loves you?

No, it is best for you all to be
at my house, where it is known

you are of kingly birth
and no-one frowns at this.

I am so very tired, sir.

We must listen to her, Stephen.

We must pay very close attention
to what she says and what she does.

We must find the correct moment.

And when we have it...

.. we can carry her to Lost-Hope,
where she will be loved

and admired as no man has
loved or admired her before.

Evening, gentlemen.

Evening, Ned, Winespill.

~ A devil of a job keeping
the dust out of one's tobacco.
~ It is, sir.

Would you like some of mine?

Thank you, sir. Drink, sir?

~ Thirsty?
~ Thank you.

Winespill, what is it
that you chiefly desire?

What could a chap help you with?

I know it is an odd question...

Magic woman, sir.

Toasted bloody cheese.

Here, sir.

Oh, thank you, Jeremy.

Excuse me, sir?

Er... you're the fella with
all the books, isn't it?

Do... do you need... magic?

Er, no.

Sir.

"My dearest Ned.

"It pains my heart to say
it to you, my love, but..."

But what?

".. but I have spoiled
our wedding china

"by spilling a pan of jam upon it."

Bloody old bitch.

Who is it, then?

Thomas Potter, eh?
Bloody Thomas Potter.

Sorry, Ned.

I am expecting a parcel.

Does she not say anything
about me boots?

~ Boots?
~ I asked her to send new boots, sir.

I'm sorry, she... she
merely sends her love.

Damn Portuguese roads, they
tear a man's boots to ribbons.

What's the use in love, when
she could have sent boots?

Break it up, lads. Heads
down, heads down.

Goodnight, sir.

Goodnight.

.. Reverend Wilson called
out, "Vive la France!"

Ah, been sleeping in the mountains,
have you? Have some breakfast.

Thank you, my Lord.

How do you like the war, Mr... um...?

Oh, it was rather confusing at
first, but I grow used to it.

I have been robbed once.
I have been shot at once.

Once I found a Frenchman in the
tent and had to chase him out.

And once, the house I was
sleeping in was set on fire.

By the French?

No. No, sir. By the English.

It was a company of the 43rd,
who were very cold that night.

Set fire to the house,
to warm themselves.

Oh, that always happens.

Finest fellows in the
world, the British Army.

I heard Your Lordship refers to
them as "the scum of the earth".

Well, they're both. At
one and the same time.

We've been talking - arguing, rather
- about magic, how it's done.

Major Grant here says you and
this other chap have given

every word in the Bible a number.

And then you think of
words to make up a spell

and you add up the
numbers and then...

That... That is not
what I said, my Lord.

You have not understood, at all.

I'm afraid I've done
nothing resembling it.

It seems rather complicated and
I do not think it would work.

As to doing magic, my Lord,
there are many procedures,

as many, I dare say,
as for making war.

Good and evil.

Can a magician kill a man by magic?

I suppose a magician might...

.. but a gentleman never could.

This road, sir, which you have
been so good as to offer us -

what sort of road would it be?

Give me Stokesy, Jeremy.

Very good.

That should do it.

Come on, Jeremy.

No, really, I have hardly
any criticisms to make.

It's an excellent road.

Only, make it a little straighter
tomorrow, if you will, Merlin(!)

Er...not Merlin, my
Lord, if you please.

~ Why ever not?
~ Well...

Merlin, if indeed he existed,
was a very vagabonding type,

not the modern kind
of magician, at all.

Mr Norrell and I are endeavouring
to make magic respectable, my Lord.

You'll have a job, sir. This is war.

Besides, I've got to
call you something.

~ Strange?
~ Ah.

Merlin, it is, then.

What are you tutting at?

This post-boy, is he to be trusted?

I'm giving him a pound a week.
What does the letter say?

A deal about love.

He writes to her of love
and doggerel poems

and she writes to him of
heartache and dresses...

I'm not easy about this
business, Mr Norrell.

I have to say it.

There, you have said it.

I want to know what the matter is.

If you wish my assistance
in these matters...

These concerns are not frivolous
or prurient, Childermass.

I should think you knew me better.

I know you very well.

I am concerned Lady Pole m...

Well, as you know, she
is visited by Mrs Strange.

I am concerned that they talk.

Well, naturally they
talk. They are women.

What should they talk about that
might harm you, Mr Norrell?

If you tell it me,
it may be I can help.

There is something.

There's another encampment over the
other side of the forest, my Lord.

French soldiers of the 9th.
And they have with them

all of the armaments from Cartaxo.

My cannon? My pretty new artillery?

Exactly so, my Lord. Now, if we were
to take the 7th up along the hill...

No, that would take too much
time. I am in a hurry.

Where's the magician?

~ Here, sir.
~ I would counsel against
placing too much reliance...

Yes, Grant, I'm sure you
would. Ah, there you are.

There, the assorted gentlemen
of the 7th Division,

and here, General D'Erlon's French,
with their backs to us.

Now, if you'd be so kind as
to move this forest, I think

we might very well give them
an unpleasant surprise.

~ A forest, my Lord?
~ Hmm.

That is a different kind
of magic to that which...

~ It is not modern magic.
~ So?

It is not straightforward.

I would think one would have
to negotiate with the trees.

You've moved churches and rivers.
I cannot think it would be

so difficult to move a forest
- it is not so very large.

These are living things, my Lord.

They will have humours of their own.

They may not care for soldiers.

Perhaps we have reached the limits
of your abilities, Mr Strange.

Grant. Daylight, take a few men and
escort Mr Strange into the forest.

Do your best to see he's not shot...

~ at least till he's moved it.
~ My Lord.

We wait your convenience, sir.

~ Jeremy, pack my books.
~ Which ones, sir?
~ All of them.

Must you crunch and crackle
like that, Mr Strange?

I have no wish to disturb
the French. It is lunchtime.

They will not be happy.

I must find the oldest tree.

I can't see much of an age from here.

Perhaps we should cut them all
down and count the rings(!)

This one, perhaps?

Jeremy.

Heavensy.

Is he...

.. talking to the trees?

His Lordship asked you to move these
trees, not lead them in song.

Do your work quietly, sir.

I am trying.

~ Les Anglaises sont la!
~ Mr Strange!
~ Quiet!

~ You have drawn their notice!
~ Quiet!

Commence firing!

On your right, fire!

Steady!

Stand fast!

~ Mr Strange, move this forest!
~ Can I not call down a mist?
~ No!

They are turning their cannon
about. Follow your orders.

Jeremy, find me Ormskirk.

Artillery!

Argh!

~ Jeremy.
~ Oh, sir. Your books.

I'm sorry for it, sir.

Here is one... that's left.

Stand your ground!

Captain, let's fill this flank!

Hold your places!

Mr Strange. Mr Strange,
this mist - is it yours?

Mr Strange!

General D'Erlon and the
French have fled, my Lord.

Singing trees and sudden miasmas
seemed to be too much for them.

Taking my cannon with them. I
did not ask for mist, Merlin.

I asked you to move those trees.

I lost my books, my
Lord. I apologise.

I've exhausted everything I know.

~ I've a good mind to put you on a charge.
~ Well, do it!

You've made me rely upon you. I will
not have you let me down again.

I regularly demand the impossible
of my engineers, generals

and officers. I see no reason to
make an exception in your case.

~ I'm at the limit of my magic.
~ Find other magic!

Do not give yourself too much grief.

Your mist may have lost him his
cannon, but... it saved our lives.

Most of us.

Come. Mackenzie has a burial detail.
He'll see your man right.

How has she been, Stephen?

Madam...

I know it's not my place,
but may I speak frankly?

Of course.

I do not think it's wise for
you to visit Her Ladyship.

I thought you were my friend
in this, Mr Black.

I am your friend, please believe it,

but I fear there is danger for you.

Lady Pole. Madam, please,
will you help me?

Oh, God.

Get Sir Walter.

My dear, Sir Walter...

~ Er, Sir Walter. If you'd be so kind.
~ Please excuse me.

What is your distress, Madam?

I am sad for my friend.

Why in the world

would you be sad for her?

Because she is beset by such horrors.

Lady Pole has no horrors.

She merely has a rose...

at her mouth.

A rose?

Why, I could take that away...

as easy as breathing.

~ What do you mean?
~ That I could remove what they please to call

my Lady's...

.. madness.

And how would you do that?

I would need your help, Madam.

Your... assent.

But I should not ask for anything
that would not be exquisitely

desirable to you.

You ask for something in return, sir?

If you can do such a thing,

if it is with in your power to help,
then, for the love of God, do it.

But do not make a bargain
of my friend.

You will forgive me, sir.

We should not meet again
without my husband present.

General Caffarelli was intending
to bring the cannon to the French

at Vitoria. The good news is
that the cannon never arrived.

Caffarelli made up his escort of the
first 30 soldiers that came to hand.

10 of those 30 were Neapolitan.

~ Were they indeed?
~ It is my view that they killed the others

and will shortly try to sell the
cannon to the highest bidder.

~ Why have we not heard from them?
~ They have been sending messages

to their relatives in the French
army to desert and join them.

They believe that, with the money
they will get for the cannon,

they will all be able to sail back
to Naples together in a golden ship.

And they do not wish to return
home to face their mothers

and aunts without bringing their
relatives back with them.

Yes, I've always heard Italian
women are rather fierce.

But we cannot wait for
100 Neapolitans to desert.

All we need do is find some
Neapolitans and question them.

They will have been informed of where the thieves
are and where they have put the guns.

Unfortunately, the only
Neapolitans we've encountered

have been dead ones
on the battlefield.

Sir, make yourself useful.

I require a vision of some
Neapolitans and some guns.

As I said, my Lord, visions are
precisely the wrong kind of magic
for this sort of thing.

I must have the location
of my guns, by morning.

Kindly bend yourself to it.

Do you recognise anything, Merlin?

Olive groves and pine trees. Could
be anywhere within 100 miles.

Perhaps they're saying
something useful.

I do not understand the language.

It mostly concerns the food
they wish they were eating

and the charms of their absent wives.

Are you married, Major Grant?

A soldier has no business
marrying, sir.

It is unfair on the man
and unfair on the wife.

You did not think to come to war
for jokes and picnics, Mr Strange?

I did not consider it.

I'm sorry, Major Grant, I
can think of nothing else.

Perhaps you have some Neapolitans
among the prisoners?

No, sir, we do not. You might
expect that we checked.

We have some dead ones, for
all the good that will do us.

What? What is it?

The magic I will do this night
is not... modern magic.

In fact, it is very ancient.

It is the magic of the Raven King.

I do not wish it to be
mentioned in dispatches.

You have my word, Merlin.

Enough. That's enough.

Is that for the magic?

It is for the smell.

I thought I told you no-one was
to interfere with these corpses.

None of the lads has touched
them, Mr Strange.

I do not see they are so mutilated.
Does it matter if they are?

I suppose not. Only,
I have to look at them.

Sharp knife, please, Ned.

Borrowed life.

Borrowed life.

Borrowed life.

Dear God. What language is that?

I believe it may be one
of the dialects of Hell.

They've learnt it very quickly.
Can YOU speak this language?

~ Signore.
~ Is that Italian?

~ Be my guest.
~ Ah, that's more like it.

Come along, Grant, ask
them where our guns are.

Quindici cannoni - tuo amico ha rubato
dal Generale Caparelli. Dove sono?

Dove hanno viso i cannoni?

La chiesa... San Giacomo...

We have it, sir. It's in a
small town called San Giacomo

on the road to Vitoria. They've
hidden it by the church.

We shall have the guns by morning.

This is it, my dear Merlin!

That was easy. Come on.

Good man, Merlin.

~ You.
~ My Lady. You have murdered me.

No, that was not my intention.

Do you know what you did, sir?

Madam, I was tricked.

Were it not for the very particular
circumstances, I would...

What I did, I did to further
the cause of English magic

and to help win this war in which
innocent people must suffer, too.

~ What can be done?
~ I cannot free you of
this enchantment, my Lady.

No!

You have opened a door to Hell and
invited the devil into England.

Shh... I beg you.

I beg you to stop trying to persuade
Mrs Strange or anyone else

to understand your
predicament. Please, please...

Do not try to communicate using
tapestries or the like.

It cannot do you any good and
it may cause you further harm.

And it...

Further harm?!

How old are you, my Lady? Forgive me.

I am 19.

I may tell you that you
will live another 75 years

under these circumstances.

~ No.
~ I'm sorry.
~ No! Mr Norrell. Mr Norrell!

Mr Norrell! Mr Norrell!

Nothing at all has changed.

Thank you for your help, sir.

Nothing can be gained
by her excitement.

I understand that certain ladies
wish to occupy themselves

in what they consider charity.

But it seems to me that all that
has been achieved has been

to harm Her Ladyship even further.

I worry that these two ladies merely
exercise one another's emotion.

I would suggest that these
visits are curtailed.

Merlin?

Merlin? Merlin, where are you?

What the devil are
you doing up there?

I do not know how to
make them dead again.

Set them loose and let
them wander in the bushes.

We have the French on the
run and we need to press on.

His Lordship is asking for you.

We haven't seen you in days, man.

Look at them, poor wretches
- what do they say?

They, er... plead with you
not to send them back to Hell.

They ask you to send them home to
their little sons and daughters.

There is such power in this magic.

I cannot in any way reverse
it. I've tried everything.

Everything?

Merlin, oblige me by leaving
off trying to kill people

who are already dead,
cheering yourself up

and moving the bridge at
the end of the valley.

The bridge, sir - away from
General D'Erlon's French

and where my cannons may cross.

Victory is within our sights and
we may lance this Spanish ulcer

and return home to our
wives and mistresses.

That is an order.

At your command, my Lord.

Grant, lock these corpses
in and set the mill on fire.

~ They're distracting my magician.
~ My Lord.

I'll lead your horse around, sir.

Thank you, Winespill.

May I come in?

What is the matter, Stephen?

I am instructed that Lady Pole
is not to receive visitors.

~ Let me through, Stephen. This is ridiculous.
~ Madam, please.

Believe me when I tell you
that it is for the best.

~ Stephen...
~ Madam, in 1349 there was
a parson called Dundridge.

He was followed by a tiny
man that dragged him

into a pot to meet his many wives.

I'm sorry, madam.

You were right. It is
best she does not come.

I have been meaning to offer
you an apology, Stephen,

and an explanation.

No explanation is necessary, sir.

My recent concern for the magician's
wife has rather prevented us

discussing the matter
of you becoming a king.

But I have begun to realise how
very useful such a thing might be.

It has been the cruellest thing in
the world, how she has spurned me.

I cannot break her resolve.

The husband will soon return,
and I am sorry to say,

a magician is not an
easy thing to kill.

Especially not one who seems
intent on monopolising me.

But if you were to be a king...

Sir, I have been for some years

the king of my own little
land in Harley Street.

I flatter myself known amongst
the best servants in London.

If you wish to do me a kindness...

It is not unusual, Stephen, for
a slave to take his master's side.

The Raven King himself began
life as a nameless slave

in a fairy kingdom, and
rose to great heights.

I am not a slave, sir.

No man who stands on English
soil can be a slave.

Sir Walter's father
- he was kind to me.

He had me christened and educated.

Christened?

What was the name...

your mother gave you?

I...

I don't know.

Indeed.

Come.

Out of my love for you, Stephen,

I have prised guts out of dying men

to discover your future.

Magic cannot tell the future
but it can throw shadows.

It is said you are to kill
the king and take his place.

What is this place?

Why, this is the place
of your birth, Stephen!

There is your mother...

.. about to whisper your name.

My...

mother.

This is the ship of
Sir Walter's family,

where you were born a slave

and your mother died a slave.

This is what has been done to you.

This is what has been taken from you.

I can make you king.

Oh, madam!

What is it?

Mary?

I am home.

Oh...

Oh...

Oh, G...

Jonathan, I cannot keep my countenance
if you stare at me like that.

Sorry to disappoint you, but you
never do look at me so very often.

You always had your nose
in some dusty old book.

I had entirely forgotten how
quarrelsome you are, Mrs Strange.

Jonathan...

Beg pardon, sir. Mr
Norrell to see you.

Some water!

It's all very well for you, Henry,

you have periodicals to edit.

You're writing your book about him.

I need some new lorgnettes.

Answer some of his letters,
I will give you a guinea.

Tell them Mr Norrell does
not accept commissions.

~ What on earth are you doing?
~ Has Strange been here?

Of course he's not.

Where's Norrell? Someone
is doing magic here.

Childermass.

I'm so glad that you're home,
sir. I am so relieved.

Lascelles and Drawlight have
been in my house a great deal.

I'm sure of it.

But there is no talking
to them of magic.

No. No, you must come to my
house tomorrow. You must...

Thank you... You must
come for breakfast, sir.

And you can tell me in great detail
all the different types of magic

that you employed and
you can return my books.

Yes. Yes.

Your books.

It's in the square.

What on earth are you talking about?

What is in the square?

Magic!

What are you doing, man?

Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

It's Mr Norrell's carriage.

Madam!

Madam!

Wait!

Sir!

Mr Norrell.

Sir!

Oh!

No!