Lovejoy (1986–1994): Season 5, Episode 3 - A Going Concern - full transcript

Because Felsham Manor is attracting many curiosity seekers based on its impending sale, Lovejoy uses the opportunity to stock the house with antiques, both real and reproduction, to sell to well-to-do customers. Beautiful Charlotte Cavendish, the "Son" in Cavendish and Son objects to Lovejoy's occupation of the house prior to auction, and is relentless in her efforts to get rid of him. As a sidebar, Lady Alfreson, an octogenarian aristocrat apparently suffering from senility, is hounded by her son-in-law, a ruthless compulsive gambler, as he plots to have her institutionalized so he can take over her considerable estate.

I'm house-sitting until the auction next
week, looking after potential house buyers.

They grunt.

You show them things
and they just grunt, "Hm."

You show them
a unique marble fireplace. "Hm."

You show them some
armorial stained glass. "Hm."

You show them a statue of Diane and Acteon,

some Versailles rococo plasterwork,

Elizabethan oak paneling
with linenfold decoration.

They just grunt.

I suppose you're wondering
what's in it for me.

- A value-added scam.
- Yeah, but he doesn't pay VAT.



We're taking other dealers' stock
and showing it in Felsham Hall.

Thereby adding value.

Yeah, but the auction's in a few days.

- Jane wouldn't mind, Eric.
- No, but the auctioneers might.

Cavendish & Son?

For a crate of whisky, Sam'd let you stable
a herd of elephants in the master bedroom.

Yeah. But the question is, can he sell
Felsham Interiors as a going concern?

Course, I blame you, Lovejoy.

You should never have let Jane go.

- Hello?
- You should have talked to her.

- Eric.
- Excuse me.

Yes?

You say you have this table here
for generations?

Yes. It was a gift
to the family from Beau Brummell.



Hm.

I'll take it. Now, is that 800 marks
or ?800, Lord Felsham?

Guineas, actually.

And here, Mr. Crawley,
from the drawing room,

you have a magnificent view
of the great copper beech and...

- Huh?
- You grunted.

Huh?

- You grunted at the view.
- Sorry.

You also grunted at the unique marble
fireplace and the armorial glass.

Sorry.

You won't like the statue
of Diana and Acteon

or the Versailles plasterwork.

What do you like?

Attics.

Oh.

Come on, then.

You wouldn't like to grunt at some Elizabethan
oak paneling on the way, would you?

No, I just want to see whether
it's suitable for a loft conversion.

Why would anybody want to do that
to a beautiful Queen Anne house?

Increase office space, of course.

If Felsham Hall's gonna be
my company's new headquarters,

I'll need all the office space I can get.

- What business are you in?
- Loft conversion.

I'm the biggest loft
converter in East Anglia,

not to mention stone cladding
or double glazing.

This is a listed building, you know.

It's not what you know, it's who you know.

This isn't a display.

It's a jumble sale.

I mean, what goes
with a Queen Anne chair?

Well, those don't, for a start.

We should spread it around a little.

It's still got to be in sympathy
with the decor, though.

I mean, you can't have a Regency desk
up against rococo boiserie, can you? Huh!

It's a type of wall paneling.

Oh, yes, I know what it is, Eric.

There just isn't any of it in this house.

It's been converted already.

In 1790, when they added the cornice.

Hmph! There were some cowboys about
in the 18th century.

You call these dormer windows?

Take out the solid parapet, you'd get
another hundred square foot of space.

Tinker!

Oh, strewth! I'll do it myself.

All right, all right!

- Yes?
- Mr. Lovejoy?

Er... no, I'm Eric Catchpole.
I'm his interior-design consultant.

Camilla Alfreston.
I've come about a commode.

R... Eh?

Yes, well...

"I knew you'd find this eventually.

"Don't forget me.

"Love Jane."

Good Lord! We've done a whole Moet.

Jane? What are you doing?

I'm in the attic, Alexander.

Drinking champagne with a total stranger.

Funny place to keep
champagne, in the attic.

It's a gift from a friend.

Well, it's a bit early in the day
but I think I could force something down.

I think I can too.

The stairs are this way.

Louis XVI.

Ormolu.

Some kind of veneer.

Flaking with age.

Marble top.

Probably not Reisner.

Possibly Foullet.

Well, it's the funniest-looking commode
I've ever seen.

Commode is French for "convenient".
It just means a useful piece of furniture.

Oh, right. Like when we use
the word "convenience".

Convenience!

Sorry.

There's one thing I can't quite place.

The color of this veneer.

- Well, perhaps it's ebony.
- But ebony doesn't fade to brown.

Perhaps it isn't wood veneer at all.

Perhaps it's something
completely different like horn.

- There's an easy way to find out.
- How?

Well, horn gives off a terrible smell
when you burn it.

Cor, strewth!

There's your proof. Ha.

- So it is ebony.
- Eh?

- What about the smell?
- Varnish. That would account for the color.

Yeah, but you can't prove
it's not horn, can you?

Oh, yes, I can. In two ways.

One, it isn't a snuffbox.

It would take a whole herd of rhinoceros
to cover a thing this size with horn.

- And two...
- It's a reproduction.

Fits nicely.

You'll get your money.

I'm about to come into a sizable fortune.

Of course I'm not betting with anyone else.

I can't afford it.

It's the family business.
We're disposing of assets.

Honestly! Did it sound like a greyhound?

Camilla! Can you do something
about those damn dogs?

Um... Camilla's gone out, dear.
It's her day for antiques.

- Then why didn't she take you?
- No, I'm all right.

- My son-in-law's around here somewhere.
- I'm right here.

- Er... sorry about this, Tommy.
- You'll have to wait, I'm afraid.

Um... he's on the telephone.

What the hell are you doing?

There's a man for you, rather coarse.

Yes. Yes, it's me.

No, just my mother-in-law.

- Have you been listening to this?
- One of them's a bookmaker.

Er... look. I'll...
I'll have to get back to you.

Do you realize what you've done?
That blood-sucking swine could ruin me!

Yes, well, I once knew a Lady Alfreston.

She organized the local land girls
during the war.

- That's Mummy.
- Really?

You must have been a late baby, Camilla.

Maybe I'm just older than I look.

Unlike your furniture.

How did you know
it's a reproduction so quickly?

The top matches the base.

It's still a beautiful piece, though.

- What's it modeled on?
- An Antoine Foullet at the Wallace Collection.

- Did you make it yourself?
- I run my own workshop.

I was hoping you could show
a few pieces for me.

Sale or return, we take 20 per cent.

Fine. I'll deliver in the morning.

Hang on. Haven't we got
enough to deal with as it is?

You've got to admit,
it does add something to the room.

It's a fake.

Reproduction, Eric.

Well, how does that add value?
I don't see the attraction.

And you ruin the whole display
if one piece is out of place.

You're right.

Would you like to make a cup of tea, Eric?

We agreed sale or return.

Lovejoy did the deal himself.

Hook, line and sinker.

You didn't grunt.

Huh?

You didn't grunt at the fa?ade.

Are you kidding?

It is magnificent.

It'd be a real honor to own
a piece of genuine heritage like this.

I just, uh... worry about the auction.

Ah, think of it as a poker game
with higher stakes.

I'm just a farm boy from Wyoming, Lovejoy.

I... I never did ride the poker trail.

- You really like it, don't you?
- Mm. It's all I could ever want.

- Wait till you see inside.
- I don't want to see inside.

- Why not?
- 'Cause all I want's the fa?ade.

Don't tell me you're gonna ship it
back to your ranch in Wyoming.

No.

I'm gonna bring my ranch here.

Ormolu...

on some kind of veneer.

Yes. Ah.

Yeah, that's flaking with age.

Mm, marble top. Matching base.

How much?

It's not a Reisner, Charlie.

Horn?

No, no.

Varnish.

Of course. The original finish
would have been marquetry. Hm?

But this piece has obviously
been re-veneered in ebony

to suit the, er...
fashion of the 19th century.

Yes, the varnish has yellowed with age,
the veneer's turned brown.

Restored to its original black and gold,
I would say this piece would fetch...

a nice price in New York.

- Except the top matches the base.
- And what's wrong with that?

Why go to all the trouble
of getting a beautiful black finish

if you're going to spoil it
with a brown marble top?

I'll be damned.

I would have replaced that too.

In black. Or white.

Marquetry is hard to fake

but ebony is easy.

Then you just sit back and wait
for someone clever enough to come along

and make the right wrong connections.

So this piece is a...

- A reproduction.
- Mm.

Fresh out of the workshop.

Flaking with age, eh, Lovejoy?

Lovejoy?

This is a Regency rosewood card table,
madam, with guinea pockets.

A gift to the 14th Earl from Beau Brummell.

- What about the organ?
- Ah, yes, the organ.

Now, that has been in the family
for generations.

Handel himself
used to give Lady Fitzpercy lessons.

Do they have provenances?

Only their long association
with the hall itself.

Er... excuse me.

- What are you doing?
- Valuing it.

- For what?
- The inventory, of course.

- What inventory?
- The inventory for the auction.

I thought Cavendish & Son
were handling the sale.

We are.

- So where's Sam?
- My father has retired.

If he's sloppy enough to leave a house
full of furniture off the inventory,

it's not a moment too soon.

It says Cavendish & Son. Where's the son?

I'm the daughter.

Who's this? Beau Brummell?

- This furniture is not part of the house.
- What?

- When he implied that it was, he...
- He was lying?

Look, I'm warehousing it
for a friend for a few days.

- You're running a value-added scam.
- It's an empty house.

Sam wouldn't have minded.

But I do.

And I'm the auctioneer.

I want this furniture out.

And then I want you out.

They say she's a first-rate auctioneer.

What would you expect
from a daughter of Sam Cavendish?

An open palm.

That's true. Sam was always prepared
to listen to reason, providing it crackled.

- Do you think it's in the blood?
- Only if you can freeze it.

She trained at Christie's,
you know, Lovejoy.

How long was she there?

Just long enough to get snapped up
by the New York branch of Sotheby's.

You mean we're taking on the fine-art
establishment of the entire Western world?

I predict a knockout in round three.

- To who?
- The one with the gavel.

Your interior-design consultant
won't take any more of my stock.

- My who?
- Lovejoy!

I can't take any more of this stuff.
I haven't got time to check it over.

What for? Woodworm?

It's only 20 minutes old, Eric.

We've got enough on our hands
with the real stuff.

I... I can't be bothering
with reproductions.

Eric, I made a deal with this lady
and I'm gonna stick to it.

Yeah, but it'll be out of place, Lovejoy.
It isn't even distressed.

- They're not doing business with you, Eric.
- But...

Camilla, sorry to keep you.
It will not happen again.

Oh, that's quite all right.
I wasn't doing anything for dinner anyway.

- It's not even lunch time.
- I'm still not doing anything for dinner.

Kate. Don't tell me
they're changing secretaries as well.

Lovejoy, I haven't seen you for years.

They had to keep me. I'm the only one
who understands Sam's accounts.

So, Miss Moneypenny survives
even though old 0077's retired.

Lovejoy, if Sam were James Bond,
the KGB would have taken over years ago.

- They've recruited his daughter, though.
- Charlotte's a lovely hard-working girl.

She's just what this firm needs.

- Of course, she's still finding her feet.
- Oh, I've found them right there.

- Is Rosa Klebb in by the way?
- I wouldn't go in just now.

- Don't worry about me, Kate. Peace offering.
- ?300.

Do I hear ?300?

Three hundred. Three-fifty.

Four hundred. Four-fifty.

Five hundred. Five-fifty.

Six hundred. Six-fifty.

Seven hundred. Seven-fifty.

Eight hundred.

Done. Lot number 12.

Staffordshire lion under a flowering tree.
Formerly one of a pair.

Who'll start me off at ?300?

Done!

How about the other one?

Lovejoy. And what brings you here?

I can't resist a bargain.

I take it you heard what was going on?

Yeah. Don't be shy on my account.

Practice makes perfect.

We're testing the acoustics.

Are you gonna auction to music?

- What did you say?
- I said, are you going to auction to music?

It's very popular in the States.

Aren't you thinking of supermarkets?

I'm thinking of sales.

If we had a loading bay
and another two floors

we could take delivery of antiques
from all over Europe.

Here's one from France.

I don't take bribes.

Thank you, Barry.

I'm at Felsham Hall
with Jane Felsham's permission.

- Send her the champagne, then.
- She gave it me.

So you even deal in second-hand bribes.

- Was there anything else?
- You've, um... got a fax here, you know.

Junk mail.

- Definitely male.
- Definitely junked.

I know how he feels. What did he do?

- Squeeze from the wrong end of the tube?
- It's none of your business.

Nothing is where you're concerned,
not even my own business.

Look,

if you're auctioning a house and you find it's
full of rubbish, you put the rubbish out.

Well, lucky old Jonathan.

When do I get the chance
to "miss you madly"?

Soon!

Fax me.

Look at these homes in Southwold.

Look at this lovely house by the sea.

Mm.

- Who lives there?
- You could. That's what I'm telling you.

No, dear. No.

I live here with you and Camilla.

I bet you don't know who you live with
half the time.

I don't gamble.

This house is too big for you!

You get lost going from the sofa
to the coffee table!

- I can't remember that.
- You don't remember anything.

At least at those places
you'd have a trained staff.

They know how to deal with people like you!

What? People that don't like Southwold?

I wonder if they have
old people's homes in the Orkneys.

But who would manage this estate?

I would.

In that case,

I don't think you should bother with these.

It's not a good time to buy, dear.

We don't want you to buy it. Just move in.

Oh, no.

I'm much too old to be a squatter.

It's a retirement home, for God's sake!

If you won't do it for me,

do it for Camilla.

Has Camilla retired?

Oh, dear.

It seems only yesterday
I was at her wedding.

Not to me.

Were you there too?

Of course I was there too.

I'm her husband.

Well, why do you want to move to Southwold?

Customs & Excise. We've had a tip that
somebody's using this building for business.

We'd like to inspect the premises
and see the books.

We think it might be a VAT scam.

You know, I've just come to collect a bill.
What, is he still away?

- Either that or he's out in his pickup.
- Yeah.

If you see him,
tell him we'll be back tomorrow.

- Move all the stuff out of the house.
- What?

Miss Cavendish has shopped us to the VAT.
They're coming back tomorrow.

But where are we supposed to put it?

Now what?

Yeah.

I'd love to help you guys.

- Well, where are you going?
- I've got a dinner date.

Thank you, madam.

- Good evening.
- No more wine for me.

I have an important delivery
tomorrow to Felsham Hall.

I'd have a lie-in if I was you.

I've got to be out all morning.

VAT people want to see me.

It'd be so much more convenient
if they came to you.

Well, they are.

Lovejoy. Twice in one day.

What a delight.

Ah. Um... Charlotte Cavendish,
this is a business associate of mine...

Now, now, Lovejoy. We agreed
we wouldn't discuss business over dinner.

By "associate" I take it you mean someone
who dumps furniture at my client's house?

You must be the auctioneer
Lovejoy's been talking to me about.

If you've any property at Felsham Hall,

you might like to reclaim it
before the bailiffs do.

Would you excuse me? Miss Cavendish,
may I see you a moment, please?

Excuse us just a moment. Thank you.

- Is everything all right?
- Everything is fine, Tom.

You reported me to the VAT.

Sorry. Had to think of
the firm's reputation.

- What about my reputation?
- No problem. They'd never heard of you.

You could have put me out of business.

I could understand if there was a reason,
but we are total strangers.

Not quite, Lovejoy. I've been
finding out a few things about you.

You've no bank account, no fixed abode,
and no visible means of support.

- So you found out a load of nothings.
- And you've got a criminal record.

Well, so? You've got five A levels,
a Cambridge First,

a degree from the Courtauld Institute, a New
York apartment, and you speak five languages.

- So?
- So, we're not total strangers.

- I hear you claim to be a bit of a divvy.
- I don't claim it. It's a fact.

- Prove it to me. Divvy something.
- Oh... we're in a restaurant.

What do you need?

A crystal ball and a
pair of Gypsy earrings?

I'll tell you something
about your earrings.

24-carat gold, English, about 1890,
with a single Burmese pearl.

Did they come in a leather pouch
about the size of a matchbox?

- Where did you get them from?
- I inherited them from my grandmother.

Ah.

- Any fool can recognize Victorian jewelry.
- Except they're not earrings.

So what are they? Candlesticks?

Nipple rings.

All the rage in the 1890s.

My grandmother didn't mention that.

Would you wear them if she had?

I suddenly feel everyone's looking at me.

Well, they probably are.

I mean, they're extremely valuable.

Complete pair of sleepers and pearls.
Adds thousands to the value.

Perhaps now you'll stop
trying to bankrupt me, hm?

Let's not rush things.

- Who was your friend?
- Was?

Bring me the bill, Tom.

- The lady paid on her way out.
- Oh.

- She didn't leave a tip.
- Huh!

I was just passing
and I thought I'd check up on a few things.

I could call round tomorrow
if it's not inconvenient.

Traffic building up on the M25...

between junction 28, that's the A12...

We have an appointment
to see the house.

And this is the yellow room.

Notice how empty it is.

- You seem proud of the place's emptiness.
- Yes, it is.

It is very empty, isn't it?

Make sure you tell that
to Miss Cavendish when you see her.

Still, all this emptiness
is an advantage to us.

There's no better way
to assess a building's karma.

- Oh, karma?
- Absolutely.

If we're going to make Felsham Hall
our new meditation center

we want to be sure that
it has the right karma.

The wrong karma, you see...

could interfere with our yogic flying.

Oh, yogic flying.

All right!

How dare you shut the door
in the face of a buyer?

You've gone too far this time, Lovejoy!

I hope all your stock's gone.

You're not wearing your earrings.

John? Bill? We'll leave that
in here till the auction. Thank you.

Just a minute. You're the VAT men.

Pity you can't divvy people, Lovejoy.

That bloody auctioneer woman's here again.

She's got a nerve,
seeing as she shopped you to the VAT men.

Well, she didn't shop me to the VAT men.

- Eh?
- She scammed me. There were no VAT men.

- It was just to get us to clear the house.
- Us?

Well, you are gonna fill it up again
and I'm gonna get some more stuff.

What? Ow.

Oh, God.

Tinker!

Tinker!

Tinker!

Thanks, guys.

Ah, Lovejoy.

That Alfreston woman's
just dropped off another load!

- Is that one of the pieces?
- Yeah. Yeah, look at it all.

I don't know what they see in it.
It's only reproduction.

And it's not up to the standard
of her other work, if you ask me.

I mean, look at this veneer.
It doesn't even reach the edge.

- Camilla sent all this?
- Yeah.

Don't you recognize it?
This is just like the other one.

Well, not quite, Eric.
This one's 200 years old.

Eh? But you said that 'cause the top
matched the base it was a repro.

In that case it was.

This stuff...

is the real thing.

What, all of it's genuine?

Well, no wonder it's selling well.

You sold some of it? How much is gone?

Well, about this much again.

Eric, you idiot!

You have just lost a fortune.

Don't blame me. It was all priced up when it
arrived and I didn't have time to check it.

You told me not to.

I didn't know she was selling us
half the palace of Versailles.

Well, you shouldn't be so trusting.

Maybe she was using these to copy from
and got 'em mixed up.

Nobody would be that stupid, would they?

Nobody except you. Phone the dealers
and tell them there's been a mistake.

Thanks a bunch. And they're gonna say,
"Have it back," aren't they!

If they don't,
I'll send you to work for them.

Ha-ha-ha. And what are you gonna do?

I'm gonna tell Camilla about the mistake.

Hello, Lovejoy. Are you back?

So, it lives.

- Lovely Empire chairs.
- Oh, God.

Chairs! Chairs!

There used to be chairs here!
Surely you remember that? Ten of them!

Eight singles and two carvers.
They were here this morning.

Yes, round the table.

Right, we're getting somewhere.
If we could find the bloody table!

Do you realize how long
those chairs have been in your family?

I... I think Father had them.

A hundred and thirty years!

Longer than you, you old bat. How would you
like it if we sold you to a rag-and-bone man?

Is there...
No need to shout at the lady, you know.

- Who the hell are you?
- I might be able to help you.

Not unless you can cure senility.

This daft old woman's just sold the finest
collection of family furniture in England!

For next to nothing!
To some crook called Lovejoy.

I keep telling you, Godfrey...

Geoffrey! My name is Geoffrey!

I've been married to your daughter for 15
years and you can't even remember my name!

I keep telling you I don't know any...

Who?

- Lovejoy!
- Lovejoy?

- I'm Lovejoy.
- Oh!

Hello!

We've just been talking about you.

I don't know how you've got the damn nerve
to show your face in this house

after what you've done!

I suppose it's some sort of accomplishment
in your business!

- What do you call it, a sting?
- A mistake.

Now, if I could just speak to Camilla...

Yes, of course.

- Camilla will explain everything.
- Camilla!

Camilla!

Yes?

Just run this past me one more time.

Let's get this straight.

You say the furniture was delivered
by Lady Alfreston's daughter?

No, no, no. By someone
I thought was Lady Alfreston's daughter.

Because you'd never seen
the real Camilla before.

That's right.

This other Camilla just happened to have
a truckload of Lady Alfreston's belongings.

- No, I didn't know that either.
- All right, then.

A truckload of 18th-century antiques
which you... hmm... bought...

- Was that a grunt?
- I'm sorry?

No, I didn't buy them.
I took 'em on sale or return.

At less than one per cent of their value.

I thought they were reproductions.

Then I realized they weren't reproductions
so I gave them back.

To the same Lady Alfreston
whom you had no idea was the owner?

- No, her daughter.
- Who didn't know you from Adam.

That's right.

How much have you made out of all of this?

Nothing.

Lady Alfreston's lost her furniture,
the insurance company's lost a fortune,

even the mysterious Camilla who is not Camilla
has lost, if these were your sale prices.

- No "if" about it.
- There's no truth in it either, is there?

According to you,
no one's made a penny out of all this.

You've just disappeared a lot of priceless
goods to keep your saleroom ticking over!

What were they? A loss leader?

You bought the stuff from the old lady,
flogged 'em on at a huge profit,

and then invented this fake daughter
to cover your tracks.

- You gonna charge me?
- I have a witness.

Are you gonna charge me?

Just as soon as I can get Lady Alfreston
to remember who you are,

and who she is,

you'll be back.

Tom, the woman who didn't give you a tip.

- Huh?
- You forgot to give me her credit card slip.

- Did I?
- Yeah.

- What do you want that for?
- Her name.

You should get 'em to wear a
badge, Lovejoy.

Camilla!

Camilla! I brought some
of your furniture back.

I'm not sure I should accept it
after what you did to Mummy.

I'm as much as a victim as you are.

How do I know it's ours?

Do you think I make a habit of giving away
other people's Louis XVI furniture?

Well, all right, I'll take it,
only don't tell Geoffrey.

- Camilla, do you know a Mrs. Webb?
- I don't think so.

- She gave me your mother's furniture.
- It still doesn't ring a bell.

Well, could she have worked for the estate?

You'd have to ask Geoffrey.
My husband's in charge of everything now.

But he's out.

- Do you think your mother would know?
- Well, that's...

- Could I ask her?
- A little difficult.

She... she's not here any more.

Where is she?

- Lady Alfreston?
- Hello! Lovejoy!

Lady Alfreston! You remembered.

No. No, I can't remember anything.

I just knew.

I'm senile, you see.

That is why I'm here.

Well, you seem perfectly rational to me.

Hm.

But I don't let it show
in front of other people.

Well, not so far anyway.

Touch wood.

Come in!

I don't think anyone's
there, Lady Alfreston.

Ah, but I can't trust what you say.

You swindled me, didn't you?

- Are you sure that's what really happened?
- Of course I am.

Camilla told me.

- Am I in the wrong room?
- No, no, no. This is your room.

Then why did I knock?

Lady Alfreston.

Do you remember selling me any furniture?

No, I do not.

I wouldn't dream
of doing business with a swindler.

The police think you did.

Oh, I've no memory of that.

But then I'm senile, you see.

Oh, dear.

I think I've told you that
already, haven't I?

Lady Alfreston, do you know
any friends of Camilla's

or... or Geoffrey's?

Let me think. Geoffrey.
Geoffrey, Geoffrey. Geoffrey.

Your son-in-law.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Oh, how stupid of me.

Do... do you know if he knew a Mrs. Webb?

Mrs. Webb?

- Mrs...
- Mm.

Well, you know, it's all so difficult
with these names when you're 85.

And you say that, um...

who is this Lovejoy?

Oh, no, no, that's my name.

Oh, yes, yes.

And I just wondered
if Geoffrey, your son-in-law,

had ever mentioned a Mrs. Webb.

Oh, dear me. Webb.

- Mrs. Webb.
- No, no, Lady Alfreston.

I'm sorry I disturbed you.
Please, please forget I said anything.

- Just a minute. Just a minute, Mr. Lovejoy.
- Yeah?

What was Geoffrey's mistress's name? Hm?

Mrs. Webb?

Geoffrey's been carrying on for years.

Lady Alfreston knew all about it but
didn't want to say anything to her daughter

because she thought it
would break her heart.

That doesn't prove he stole the furniture.

She gave me a description
of who he'd been carrying on with.

Camilla? No, no, Mrs. Webb.

A description?
Well, she can't be that ga-ga, then.

Lady Alfreston is as sane...

as she ever was.

She didn't give her furniture away.

No, but if her son-in-law
could make out that she had

he could claim that she was senile.

- And spend all her money on his mistress.
- And his gambling debts.

I couldn't figure out who profited.

Geoffrey doesn't mind
giving away antique furniture

as long as he gets control of the estate.

The only one who loses out
is poor old Lady Alfreston.

- Well, and her daughter.
- And me.

You'll have to go to the police, Lovejoy.

No, you won't.

Got a fatal attraction
to other people's houses, Lovejoy.

- What do you mean?
- The retirement home.

A man answering to your description
was seen entering Lady Alfreston's room.

If you're not gonna charge me,
you're wasting your time.

If you weren't so guilty
you wouldn't try and nobble my witness.

- Has Lady Alfreston made a complaint?
- She's too gone in the head. You know that.

I went to see Lady Alfreston
to see if she knew a Mrs. Webb.

- Who?
- Mrs. Webb.

The name the woman used
who impersonated Camilla.

Oh, she's gone alias now, has she?

I bet you and Lady Alfreston
had a high old time.

You see people who don't exist.
She can't see the ones who do.

She's sane.

It's perfectly logical.
A woman with no face and two names.

She describes her face perfectly.
It belongs to her son-in-law's mistress.

Well, why would he want to convince people

that his mother-in-law was selling
furniture off for next to nothing?

To convince people like you that she's
insane so he can get control of the estate.

Assuming this reproduction Camilla
really exists.

- Yeah, Mrs. Webb.
- Hm.

Yeah, well, are you gonna charge me?

Hm?

What do you think you're doing?

I'm moving all this furniture into storage.
You can't be trusted.

You lied to me.
You never set the VAT on me.

- I was doing you a favor.
- Well, don't do me any more.

Where have you been all day?

You've found out everything else about me.
Work it out for yourself.

I see. In trouble with the police.

Well, you needn't think
I'm paying to store your goods.

I shall bill you.

In that case, hold everything, lads!

- I'll store it myself. Won't we?
- We?

Just make sure they're gone
by this time tomorrow.

- This time tomorrow I could be in jail.
- It won't help.

I shall just bill your suppliers.

I have a friend in the police who's
traced them all from their license plates.

I'm sure they're not registered for VAT.

- All?
- Yes.

Traced them all?

Including your charming dinner companion
with her tasteful Louis XVI reproductions.

Terrific!

Power of attorney.

- So the estate's yours?
- Ours.

Now I can sign the checks. You're my sleeping
partner. I even got the furniture back.

That only leaves your divorce.

It looks suspicious to rush things.

And you're sure the old lady's past caring?
She's not going to get lonely?

Course not. Couple of years,
I'll stick the wife in with her.

To premature senility.

To us.

Camilla.

Meet Camilla.

I'm impressed.

To clear a house this big.
That's a lot of work for three people.

- Three?
- Yeah, it would have been.

You sure it's empty?

To the floorboards.

So don't try claiming anything
after the new owners move in.

Thanks for clearing out.

What did you do with it all?

I didn't ask you
what you'd done with your earrings.

No.

- Wouldn't tell you anyway.
- No.

Neither will I. Thanks for helping trace
Camilla. You got me out of a lot of trouble.

It won't happen again.

I, er... wouldn't be too sure about that.

HM Customs & Excise.

We hear there's an unregistered business
in these premises.

This house is empty.

Down to the floorboards.

Oh, the flowers are beautiful, Godfrey.
Thank you so much.

Mummy, this is Lovejoy.
Geoffrey's going to prison.

- Whatever you think best, dear.
- I'm divorcing him.

- He was having an affair, you know.
- I know, Mummy.

He was trying to have you
declared unfit to manage the estate.

I love dogs. I've always loved them.

I used to have some.
I don't know what became of them.

Mummy, they're yours.
I think we should find them a good home.

Yes, but don't send them here, dear.
They don't even take us for walks.

- Come on, Mummy, let's go.
- Yes, I'd like that.

Thank you, Lovejoy.

Come on.

Oh, there is one thing
I'd like to ask you...

- Mr. Lovejoy.
- What's that, Lady Alfreston?

Um...

why did you steal my furniture?

Hm?

I'm pleased to announce
the sale of Felsham Hall,

built in 1720 by Sir William Cordell,

seat of the Lords Felsham since 1721

and lovingly maintained
by them until recently.

Well, look on the bright side.

Some of those loft conversions these days
can be very stylish.

I'll convert your loft in a minute.

A Queen Anne period house of rich red brick
believed to be Dutch.

Walling is of cream-colored stock.

Pilaster strips alternate with downpipes
bearing the family crest.

What if that terrible American buys it?

- At least we'll know the fa?ade's safe.
- Hm.

A great copper beech,
one of the largest in the county,

stands to the right of the front gates.

At one end of the terrace...

an old ruined folly stands on a mound
which is currently being replanted.

Mind you, those yogic fliers are nice guys,
you know.

They say they're gonna put the house
back to its original condition.

Yes, with a landing pad for UFOs.

Ladies and gentlemen, who will open
the bidding for me at ?700,000?

Do I have ?700,000?

Thank you, sir. Do I have 750?

750. 800.

850.

Do I have ?900,000, ladies and gentlemen?

900.

- One million.
- One million.

One-one. One-two. Thank you, sir.

One-three. I have one-three
bidding against you, sir.

One and a half million pounds.

Any advance on one million,
five hundred thousand pounds?

I have one million...

seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds

on the telephone at the back.

Bidding against you, sir.

I am selling, ladies and gentlemen,

at one million, seven hundred
and fifty thousand pounds.

Going once.

Twice.

Sold to the gentleman at the back
on the telephone. Thank you.

Oh, I hope it's an aristocrat.

Well?

Oh, yes, Miss Cavendish,
I've got big, big plans for Felsham Hall.

Ah! Lovejoy. You play your cards right,
you can be part of them.

I'd rather take up yogic flying.

That's a great pity.
That's a great shame. It makes me very sad.

However, my sadness
is tinged with some pleasure.

You're fired.

- What?
- You can't sack us!

Felsham Interiors was
sold as a going concern.

That's right, and you're going.

But you can't just chuck us
out of our workshops!

Where are we gonna put our stock?

Where did you put the stuff
you had in the house?

It's in storage.
Charlie, you cannot kick them out.

All right, Lovejoy. I'll do you a deal.

If you pay rent...

if you pay rent,

I might give you use of, um...

The stables might make
a good antiques warehouse.

If they're in good condition.

Yes.

And if you lend me use of the boys
whenever I need them,

and don't use the front entrance.

It's a deal, Charlie.

This calls for champagne.

Yes.

Mm.

I think I like you, Lovejoy.

We were wondering where you had got to.

Lovejoy?
What are you doing up there?

Drinking champagne, Charlie.

With a total stranger.