Picnic at Hanging Rock (2018): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript

Good morning, girls.

Good morning,
Mrs. Appleyard.

Some of your companions...

Irma Leopold, Marion Quade,

Miranda Reid...

and your poor, dear teacher
Miss McCraw

have managed to lose themselves
at Mount Diogenes.

A search is being undertaken
to retrieve them.

Edith Horton is recuperating
in the guest room.

She is not to be disturbed.

I have decided that
you may rest this morning.



You will go straight up
after breakfast.

You may read.

You may sew.

You may not worry your parents
by writing letters home.

Am I understood?

Yes, Mrs. Appleyard.

Gentlemen,

the girls have spent
all night out here.

They'll be frightened.

So when we find them, go easy.

Miss McCraw!

Cooee!

Irma!
Miss Leopold!

Irma!



This is the colonel's nephew,

the Honorable
Michael Fitzhubert.

How do you do?
Call me Mike.

You were both here yesterday.

Yeah, the girls
came straight past us.

Yes, I-I followed them,
but not far.

Why?

I don't know.

They were so determined,

as if they were on a mission.

And the leader,

she was completely
in her element.

It was marvelous to see her.

Then, suddenly, they...

they disappeared.

The eyes can
play tricks out in the bush.

- I know what I saw.
- Leave this to the locals, sir.

The gentry aren't much use
in these matters.

Irma!

Cooee!

Miranda!

Miranda!

Miranda!

Hey. What's that?

Look.
The nig-nog's found something.

Ask him what it is.

I don't need lessons
in police work,

and if you have to
come sightseeing,

keep away from the edge.

No time to rescue you as well.

Cooee!

I heard they use this place
for initiations.

Boys to men, that sort of thing.

Those girls have been ate
and shat out by now.

There's no need
for that sort of talk.

They're ladies.
Show some respect.

Irma!

Cooee!

Tom, lock the gates,
including the side gate.

We don't need any nosey parkers
prying into college affairs.

Pardon me, ma'am, but there's
a meat delivery today.

Then, Mr. Whitehead,
you may work by the front gate

so that you can hear
the butcher's cart.

- Yes, ma'am.
- Dismissed.

Close every window.

Lock every door.

If this is a prank, there will
be serious repercussions.

Greta would never agree
to a prank.

Greta McCraw is both rational
and dependable.

Rare traits in a woman.

She's probably spent the night
out there, searching.

It horrifies me to imagine it.

Let's find out
why Edith screamed.

Sit up.

Tell us exactly what happened.

My piece of cake
was the smallest,

so I had a bit of Myrtle's.

Mm-hmm. Speak up.

I never had two whole pieces.

It was a pretty cake, yes?

It had flies on it.

Miss McCraw
said we should have gone

to the Bendigo Museum instead.

Edith, did you
and the other girls

attempt to climb Hanging Rock?

They made me.

And what happened?

My tummy hurt.

I went to sleep.

It's true.

We all did.

Then they left me there.

Where did the others go?

Speak up, Edith!

They left me
all alone there.

Have you told my mum?

I want my mum!

Too much sun.

She needs to recover her senses.

Ahh.

Ugh.

Irma!

- Marion!
- Hello!

- Marion!
- Miranda!

Cooee!

Miranda!

- Irma!
- Cooee!

Keep moving, gentlemen.

Cooee!

What's wrong?

Must be getting late.

Same as yesterday.

A disturbance
in the magnetic field.

The blacks won't stay out here
after dark.

Why not?

They believe it's haunted.
Right, Joe?

He can jump you.
Then you carry that ghost.

What ghost?

Tomorrow at first light.

Anyone who can spare
another day.

Get some rest, Edith.

When you arrived,

was there anyone else about?

Only the Fitzhubert party
and the two horsemen.

What?

- Two horsemen?
- Oui.

With no couth.

What does that mean?

Well, they stared at the girls.

They were wearing strange hats.

The fashion of a bygone era.

Why didn't you
tell me this before?

They left as we arrived.

Irma!

Girls?

You say y-you were at your post,
uh, the entire time.

You didn't even go to the privy?

Mrs. Fitzhubert and I
are camels.

We hold our water.

As I said, I was reading.

I might have dozed off
for a few minutes,

but no more than that.

How long would you say

Mr. Fitzhubert
was up on the Rock?

- Oh, couldn't say.
- Come on, mate.

One hour?

Three hours?

Two days?

When you first
got to the picnic ground,

was there anyone else there?

There were two horses tethered.

Stock horses.
Fine specimens.

Chestnut and a bay.

And the riders?

Can't recall seeing them,
now you ask.

Could these two riders
have frightened the girls?

No, it... it was
a joyous picnic.

In my opinion, they have tried
to leave the Rock

and became lost on the road.

I'm interested in facts,
not opinions.

Opinions are not gonna solve
this case.

When did our misfortune
become a case?

Well, if we don't find them
by the end of this week...

Then get back out there.

I have a couple more questions,
Mrs. Appleyard.

Find them now.
There is only one question.

Where are they?!

Colonel
Fitzhubert's been kind enough

to lend his best hound.

Miss Irma's.
Miss Miranda's.

Miss Marion's.
Miss McCraw's.

Here you go.

Here, boy, come here.
Come on, let's go.

Down.

What's he got there?

I was bringing it to you.

Why didn't you bring it
to me yesterday?

- I didn't want to stand accused.
- Of what?

We're wasting our time here.

Sit down, Mr. Fitzhubert.

- Cooee!
- Marion!

Cooee!

You ever read
Sherlock Holmes stories?

Science?
The new world?

It's gonna change policing.

All men are equal
in the eyes of science...

rich, poor, lowborn, highborn.

You know, out here, there's this
thing called the bush telegraph.

I'm Melbourne born,
a city man like yourself.

But my wife, she's a local.

And she heard,
on the bush telegraph,

that you were
in some sort of strife,

sent here for your own good.

Must have disgraced yourself
good and proper

to be sent this far.

I think you'll find there's
no science to gossip, Sergeant.

Why would you keep a stocking?

As a lucky charm.

She was so free.

I don't expect you
to understand.

Go back to Lake View,
Mr. Fitzhubert.

Cooee!

Cooee!

Marion!

Cooee!

Joe and I'll go up.
You wait here.

I've been tracking a long time.

This doesn't make sense.

There are no tracks here,
nothing.

But I found that
down at the bottom.

- Do you own a pocketknife, sir?
- I say!

It's fine.

I have nothing to hide.

Obviously my nephew
knows nothing

about this unfortunate business.

Why is it obvious?

He's a Fitzhubert man.

Be careful not to rise above
your station, Sergeant.

Good day.

We're all wondering

what has happened
to our missing companions,

and we're all thinking
the worst.

Let's think about Jesus instead.

Nails through his hands

and through his precious feet.

A crown of thorns

jammed onto his head.

His body left hanging

out in the weather for days.

Put in a dark cave

called a sepulchre.

A stone rolled across
the entrance of that cave...

...and it was dark as pitch.

Dark as a grave.

Dark as the Hanging Rock.

Shut up, you evil goblin!

Jesus have pity on you, Sara.

Mary went to the sepulchre.

Suddenly, dead Jesus

was standing right behind her.

Believe in Jesus,

and the dead,

they will rise again.

Girls, I would like you all
to welcome Miss Irma Leopold.

How do you do,
Miss Leopold?

How do you do, ladies?

I hope we shall soon be
the best of friends.

- Morning, Miss Leopold.
- How do you do, Miss Leopold?

Hello, Miss Leopold.

You'll soon fit in.

Hello.

I'm Miss Miranda Reid,
and this is Miss Marion Quade.

This is my ward, Sara Waybourne.

Welcome, Sara.

I do hope we shall soon be
the best of friends.

Mr. Cosgrove.

You've chosen a busy day
to arrive.

Might I make a suggestion?

I believe it would be beneficial
for Sara to share a room

with an older girl.

Uh, what about
Miss Miranda Reid's room?

Um, space for one more?

She can't make you move
out of our room.

Please don't go on my account.
I-I'll find somewhere else.

Oh, please.

You may be sharing
with Miss Reid,

but don't think that entitles
you to any seniors' privileges.

Unpack and then come
straight downstairs,

receive your timetable
and your roster of duties.

- Yes, Miss Lumley.
- Good.

Poor stray puss.

It's not your fault.
It's how things are here.

There's oodles of space
in my room.

- Really?
- Yes.

Mrs. Appleyard
would never agree.

She'll do whatever I want.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

I can always tell about people.
As soon as I meet them.

Truancy.

Bare feet like a slum child.

Left hand.
Palm up.

Both hands.
Palms up.

Good night, Sara.

Go.

Go to your room.

Miranda will sleep
in here tonight.

I-I know where Mrs. Appleyard
keeps her special brandy.

For the pain.

Thank you, Sara.

Now, good night.

But...

- I found...
- I said good night, Sara.

I had
an exciting adventure recently.

I visited Mount Diogenes.

Why people set sail
to visit temples and churches

when we have miracles like this
right on our doorstep?

Have you ever visited
the Sistine Chapel, miss?

I have, as it happens, Irma.

Not in a golden carriage,
of course, like yourself.

I tramped from one end
of Italy to the other.

There's no denying
it's heavenly.

But I have a fondness for rocks.

My sister and I
visited Stonehenge

when we were your age.

We made a sacred vow
to the bandrui...

ancient priestesses.

They were young ladies
like yourselves,

but they lived in the forest,
and they hunted wild animals.

They could tell the future
by reading entrails.

What are entrails?

- Animal guts.
- Eww.

Are there bandrui
at Mount Diogenes?

We live in modern times.

The druids were ancients.

But the Hanging Rock
is even older.

Is that what it's called,
the Hanging Rock?

Heaven knows what went on there.

All great rocks
have their stories.

And did your vow come true?

A vow is not a wish, Miranda.

It is a promise you make
in front of a sacred witness

to your secret self,

and woe betide you
if you break it.

Miranda!

Irma!

Marion!

I'm calling it off.

Day seven.

Small search party
of trusted souls

retrace our steps
for the umpteenth time.

Nothing.

I am ending the official search

as of the 21st day
of February, 1900.

Missing.

Presumed dead.

Watch your step.

Albert said
they stopped searching.

It's over.

Rum business.

Shocking.
Surely there's still a chance.

It's been a week.

If it had been
a hardened man, perhaps,

but four young ladies?

About this soiree, do...

Do you think, given
the circumstances, that...

We can't cancel.

It's an event.
People come up for it.

More people than ever
this year.

Semper progredi.

It seems heartless.

"Always go on."

Yes.

I understand, sir,
but don't you think...

Canceling won't help anyone.

Michael, I don't know
what happened at Cambridge

with that other chap,

but now you have an opportunity
to prove you are

an honorable young man.

Being falsely accused
hit you hard.

And now this strange business.

But we go on.

That's who we are.

Do.

The rest will follow.

Do what?

Your aunt has invited
the Spracks.

They're out from home.

Their daughter's a fine filly.

Angela Sprack?

Your aunt says
she's lost the puppy fat.

Perhaps the intermediate girls

might take their classes
with the seniors.

One's eye is drawn
to the empty chairs.

We need to keep them busy.

I was wondering if the girls
might learn about federation.

- Politics?
- Mm.

The colonies united
under one rule of law.

It's thrilling.

We're becoming a nation.

It's a new beginning
and opportunity to do better.

Better than what?

Appleyard College
promises tradition.

The search has been called off.

Thank you, Tom.

Dianne?

I am to blame.

It was me who told them
about the Rock.

We have to look after
these girls.

No one else will.

Yes.

Here comes the widow Appleyard.

- Lady Appleyard, any word?
- Mrs. Appleyard?

How you bearing up, ma'am?

Off to the Fitzhuberts' do,
ma'am?

That's cold, that is.

I don't know about this one.

There goes tomorrow's headline.

Yeah, right.

It's all quiet.
There's no one about.

- Shh. Quiet.
- Are they coming?

Let's go see her.

- Her room's this way.
- Before they find us.

- Shh. Shh.
- Quietly.

Edith.

- Tell us what happened.
- Yes, tell us.

- Edith, quickly, tell us.
- Are you okay?

- What's wrong?
- What's happened?

We want you to tell us.

Mrs. Appleyard said
I could have a baby.

What?

That's the thing of it.

I still feel awful.

Is it morning sickness, Edith?

Must be.

A scream woke me.

It was the vilest sound,

like fingernails
scraping down a blackboard.

I called out.

"Marion?"

"Irma?"

"Miranda?!"

I ran.

There was something
following me.

I could hear it in the bushes.

Branches and leaves
and stones going everywhere.

And the panting.

I could have broken my neck.

But I daren't,

because then
it would have taken me.

Don't touch Miranda's things.

Don't creep about
like an oyster!

You remember Miss Sprack.

To be lost in the bush,
where there is nothing.

Or worse.

Nothing is worse than nothing.

If the Rothschild is being held
for ransom, then...

Then God help the others.

Had you met them?

At church on Sunday.

A more motley collection of
girls you could not imagine.

Oh.
How brave of you to come.

I thought my husband
only invited you

to chaperone Miss Leopold.

Mrs. Appleyard is here
as my special guest.

Oh.

Allow me to introduce you
to the governor's wife.

I'm so sorry.

There's worse in the world
than second-rate snobs.

You must be my spy, Aiden.

Perhaps our gracious hostess
caught sight of the two riders.

Who were they?
What were they doing there?

The Hanging Rock
is an attraction of some renown.

It could have been anyone
from anywhere.

Leave it with me.

"Daughter,
the news of your posting

weighs heavy upon me.

Better you had drowned at sea

than be led once more
by... by Satan

into those fierce friendships

with the weaker sex

to which you are prone"?

Friends,

Melburnians,

Mount Macedonians,

lend me your ears.

Welcome to our first soiree
of the new century,

a century which will be thrown
at the feet

of our great monarch, Victoria,

empress of India

and queen of Kingdoms United.

Victoria!

Victoria!

And to your own good health.

Fancy a dip?

Better not.

Well, beer, then?

Did you ever want to
be something?

Like what?

I don't know.
Like a butler.

I always wanted a racehorse,

but that's a bit more
of a fancy.

I'm expected to be something.

I'd have thought
being a Fitzhubert was enough.

Is being Albert Crundall enough?

Oh, I wouldn't even know
if my name is Crundall.

Dad used to change it every time
we got into a tight spot.

How extraordinary.

Here, sit down.

I got 'em off a Japanese sailor.

Wow. Uh...

Have you traveled much?

Oh, here and there.

Born locally, though.

Dragged up in an orphanage
in Bendigo for a while.

Oh.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Ah, ten fingers and toes
and all me faculties.

Yes.

Yes, that's the ticket.

In honor of someone?

Oh, I left a sister behind.

You have had a tough time of it.

That day.

Out at the Rock.

You were gone a while.

Yes, I...

I kept going in circles.

There's no landmarks
in the bush.

You don't believe me.

I didn't say that.

I want to go back.

Tomorrow. No police.
Just you and me.

That is, if you're willing
to show me the ropes.

People suspect
I had something to do with it.

I was the last person
to see them.

I-I should have realized
something was wrong.

- It's been a week.
- I know, but I...

I have this feeling.

Every inch of that rock's
been gone over

with a fine-tooth comb.

My whole life I've been expected
to be something,

to do something, but now I...

I want to do
what I believe is right.

The girls are gone.

Fine.

I'll go alone.

Thank you for the beer.

Two riders
in the hats of a bygone era.

You and your hats, Arthur.

You're here at last.

I thought
I'd got away.

Fuck.

Where the
fuck are you?!

Jesus! Hester! Hester!

Get out.

Come on.

Get a fucking move on.

Don't suppose
you brought any tea?

No.

Food?

No.

Chaff for the horses?

Bloody hopeless, you.

Plenty of landmarks.
You just have to look for them.

Ah.
Thought you got lost again.

Well, let's push off.

You know, Albert,
back home, one's future is set.

One is baptized with the family
crest above one's head.

It's on the family crypt,

as if one could be baptized
and buried in the same day.

But it's not like that out here.

This place is timeless.

The past might be written
in stone, but w-we're not.

We can be anything, Albert.

You've had a touch of the sun.

Come on.

There's still time for a pint
at the Woodend Hotel, I'd say.

Not for me, I'm afraid.

The girls
must be here somewhere.

Um...

...where will you sleep?

Yeah, what do I tell your uncle?
I could lose my job.

No, that won't happen.
I promise you.

You're not
making any sense, Mike!

Sod off!

Go on!
You tell them what you want!

Tell them
I've gone off my lolly!

I don't care!

But, Albert,
those girls were young, like us!

All right, all right, all right.
Calm down. Look, uh...

We could say, uh,
your horse picked up a stone

and you're held up in Woodend.

I'll leave you
the rest of the tucker.

Ah!

Stop! Stop!

Hyah! Hyah!

Good morning.

Some of the girls are saying

Edith has been boasting
about a secret.

Secret?
What secret?

We must question Edith again.

All right,
so we will climb together.

First, across a creek.

I jumped.

Yes, you are courageous.

Now we walk along the path.

What path?
There isn't even a track.

Mike!

Whoa, whoa.

Hey, hey, hey.

Hey, hey.
Shh. Shh, shh, shh.

Whoa.

Cooee!

Miranda!

There is a cloud.

A nasty, red cloud.

A sunset cloud?

No.
Bright red.

And that vile noise.

But a cloud can't scream,
can it?

Someone screamed?

Who?

I run,

but I can still hear it
even after I pass Miss McCraw.

I press into the Rock
to let her past,

but she tells me to wait.

Wait. Wait.

But I'm too scared.

Scared of what, Edith?

Of her.

She isn't wearing her skirt.

What do you mean?

Just drawers.

Not even a petticoat.

She looks rude.

Whoa.

You're all right, mate.
We'll get you home.

She... She...

she's here.

She's here.