Sense and Sensibility (1981–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - Episode #1.4 - full transcript

(CARRIAGE RUMBLING)

- How do you like your room, girls?
- It is delightful.

It used to be Charlotte's.

You have a good rest
after that dreadful journey.

- That's what I'm going to do.
- Thank you again.

(MRS JENNINGS)
That's right, Clay, in here. Thank you.

(CLAY) Your luggage, ladies.
(ELINOR) Thank you.

Trunk over here. Hand baggage here.

Has any letter arrived
or word for Miss Marianne Dashwood?

- No, ma'am.
- If any message comes,

at any hour,
it is to be brought to me immediately.



Certainly, ma'am.

This is luxury.
Mrs Jennings has thought of everything.

Let me write to Mother first,
you can write in a day or two.

I'm not writing to Mother.

(CLOCK CHIMES)

You must eat, my girl.

- I've had enough.
- Whatever will I say to your poor mother

when she sees how thin you've got?

Shall I send for a doctor?

I'm well enough, Mrs Jennings.

- Oh, for me?
- No, ma'am, for my mistress.

Oh, thank you.

Aye! Bless me!

It's from Lady Middleton.



The rest of the family have arrived.

The Miss Steeles are with them.

My daughter has a cold,
and they won't call on us,

but we'll see them all soon enough.

I'll send an answer later, Clay.

Very well, ma'am.

Well, isn't that good news, girls?

Losing your sleep and health
will not bring him.

Leave me alone.

I know it is hard to bear with admonitions,
and though you will not confide in me…

- You never confide in me!
- I have not the gift of confiding.

- (BELL RINGS)
- But you must make an effort.

I sympathise, but your moods
are a great strain on Mrs Jennings,

and she is our hostess!

Colonel Brandon.

Miss Dashwood.

Colonel Brandon, I am delighted to see you.

And I you, Miss Dashwood. Are you well?

- Quite well, thank you.
- And Miss Marianne?

She's somewhat…
The excitement, London, overfatigue.

Yes.

It is an unexpected pleasure to see you.
You left us somewhat suddenly.

Yes. It has not been
in my power to return to Barton.

However, I am glad to welcome you to London.

- And…
- And?

And… When am I to congratulate you
on the acquisition of a new brother?

What do you mean?

Your sister's engagement
to Mr Willoughby is very generally known.

It cannot be so,
when her own family does not know it.

I beg your pardon.
I see my enquiry has been impertinent,

but I had not supposed there to be secrecy.

Their engagement is spoken of universally
by many who have heard it, as I have,

from Mrs Jennings,
the Palmers and the Middletons.

Oh, dear.

Is it finally settled?

Is it impossible?

I… I have no right.

And I would have no chance of succeeding.

Forgive me, Miss Dashwood,

I believe I have been wrong in saying
so much, but I hardly know what to do.

Tell me if it is all absolutely resolved on.

Colonel Brandon, I cannot.

I know the present strength
of her affection for Willoughby,

but they have never told me
of the terms on which they stand. Never.

I can tell you no more than this.

Then to your sister
I wish every imaginable happiness,

and to Mr Willoughby
that he may endeavour to deserve her.

Shall you be at the Woolcombe's party?

Yes, Mrs Jennings
will be attending Mrs Palmer,

who is near her time now, but we hope that
Lady Middleton will have us in her carriage.

Then I'll look forward
with pleasure to seeing you there.

- Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne, there we are.
- Thank you, sir.

Hello! Excuse me, my dears.

I'm not for dancing.

I agree, Lady Middleton.
I think we shall rest for a while.

Ah, there are the Lloyds.

Perhaps they will join me
in a rubber of casino.

Marianne!

- So you're Mr Robert Ferrars?
- I am, Sir John.

I met your elder brother recently,
Edward, down at Barton.

I hope you do not fancy any resemblance.

- I beg your pardon?
- I'm not proud of my brother, sir.

He seemed a decent young man to me.

Yes, if you can stand a fellow
who dresses like a funeral mourner.

Now, I must have everything just so
for each occasion - shirt, hat, gloves.

Choosing the right clothes
is the labour of my life.

- I can believe that, Mr Ferrars.
- Edward has no ton.

- What?
- No polish. He is gauche, awkward, clumsy.

- Shall I tell you why?
- Pray tell me, Mr Ferrars.

Because my mother would send him
to a tutor when a boy.

- And you?
- Public school, sir. Westminster.

I said to my mother,
"Edward is past saving now."

Look at him. Look at me. See the difference.

Ah, there are two young ladies
I would like you to meet.

My dears, this is Mr Robert Ferrars.

Miss Dashwood,
Miss Marianne Dashwood.

Mr Ferrars is the younger brother
of your friend, Mr Edward Ferrars.

- How do you do?
- Ah, there's Mr Mason.

Pray excuse me.

- Please.
- (SIR JOHN) Well, my dear fellow…

You reside in Devonshire, I think?
Near Dawlish.

Near Exeter, Mr Ferrars.

Indeed. Edward did mention something
about calling at your cottage.

- Yes, he did visit us.
- I adore a cottage.

My friend Lady Elliot protested
that one would have no room to entertain.

"My dear Lady Elliot,"
I said, "do not be uneasy.

"The dining parlour will admit 18 with ease,

"Card-tables may go in the drawing room.

"The library may be open for tea,
and let supper be set out in the saloon."

A commodious cottage.

I adore the simple life.

I am promised for this next dance,
but perhaps later.

Do not feel unduly pressed.

And that is Edward's brother!

- He's here!
- Marianne.

Oh, good heavens! He's here! He's here!

- Why does he not look at me?
- Compose yourself!

- Why cannot I speak to him?
- Do not betray what you feel to everyone.

Oh, he's looking this way.
He must have seen us.

Good God, Willoughby. What does this mean?

Miss Dashwood.

Have you not received my letters?

Will you not even speak to me?

Yes, of course.

Tell me, for heaven's sake,
what is the matter?

Yes, I did have the honour of receiving
the information that you were in town,

which you were so good as to send to me.

My compliments, Miss Dashwood.

Excuse me. We are awaited.

Marianne.

Go to him, Elinor. Force him to speak to me.

- Marianne, my darling, please.
- I must see him.

There must be some misunderstanding.

- You must be calm.
- Go after him!

- Miss Marianne.
- I must see him!

Miss Marianne, come.
I'll take you home in my carriage.

(SOBBING)

Marianne, what are you doing?

May I not ask?

No, Elinor. Ask nothing.

- You will soon know all.
- You cannot write to Willoughby again.

- I must know what has happened.
- Nothing that…

I beg you, for the world, do not speak to me!

Lord, you don't hear a word, do you, girl?

Your egg is stone cold.

- I shall send for another.
- Please do not.

You haven't told me yet
how it went off last night.

I do wish I could have gone.

- Was Mr Willoughby there?
- Yes, he was.

Upon my word, I never saw a girl
so desperately in love as your Marianne.

- How is Charlotte?
- As strong as a horse, my dear.

I do hope your sister won't be kept waiting
too long to be married.

- She looks so ill and forlorn.
- Does she want a boy or a girl?

I want a girl, my dear.
A little doll of a girl I can dress up.

- What is it, Clay?
- For the young lady, ma'am.

Oh!

Finish your breakfast, my dear.

- Her appetite'll come back after marriage.
- What marriage?

You did an unkind thing
in spreading that report!

But everyone knows.

(SOBS)

"Dear madam,

"I am much concerned to find

"that anything in my behaviour last night
did not meet with your approbation."

He is at a loss to know
how he could have offended you.

"Begs forgiveness…"
"Perfectly unintentional…"

"If my esteem for your whole family has
given rise to a belief of more than I felt,

"I reproach myself for not
having been more guarded in my conduct.

"That I should ever have meant more
you will allow to be impossible

"when you understand that my affections
have long been engaged elsewhere

"and are pledged for life."

Elinor, I want to go home.

- Are you sure that is wise?
- I want to go tomorrow.

We can't go in such haste
when Mrs Jennings has been so kind to us.

Her kindness is not sympathy.

All that she wants is gossip.

Just see. You will recover, my love.
I would rather you did before Mother saw you.

Recover? You don't know how I suffer.

You have no idea of suffering.

- If you only knew.
- You must be happy.

Edward loves you.
What can do away with that?

- Many things.
- No.

As long as he loves you,
you can have no grief.

My misery will never end.

You must master your feelings.
You must not talk so.

Leave me, then! Leave me if I distress you!

Hate me, forget me,
but do not you tell me to master my feelings!

Very well.

Thank you.

How is she, my dear?

Poor thing.

Aye, it is all true enough.
He has made a match with a Miss Grey.

Mrs Taylor told me of it earlier in Bond
Street. Good-for-nothing fellow!

"Well," said I, "All I can say is he has used
a sweet young lady abominably,

"and I wish his wife
may plague his heart out."

If ever I meet him again,
I shall make him sorry he was born!

£50,000 he gets with Miss Grey, and it won't
come a moment before it's wanted,

for they say he is all to pieces,

owing for his hunters,
owing for his curricle. (SCOFFS)

Well, there's one comfort - he is not
the only man in the world worth having.

And with her pretty face,
your Marianne will never want for admirers.

- Colonel Brandon.
- My goodness me. Ain't that Colonel Brandon?

'Tis an ill wind that blows him no good!

He shall have her at last, aye.

Mind me if they ain't married by midsummer.

And a much better match too.

A fine estate, 2,000 a year

and the little love-child
can be apprenticed out of the way.

Lord, how the Colonel must be chuckling!

Colonel! 'Tis a pleasure to see you,
but I'm busy now so you must excuse me.

Marianne is very upset.

Understandably.

It is painful even
to refer to the events of last night,

but they compel me to lay before you
certain facts concerning Mr Willoughby.

Pray let me hear them.

When I quitted Barton… You remember?

Yes, the day of the excursion.

Hard to know how to begin.

You have heard talk, perhaps,
concerning a young lady who is in my charge.

- Yes.
- She is my ward,

though I am aware that the world
imputes a closer relation to us.

She was given into my care when
she was three years old, by her dying mother,

a young woman that I had loved,
but she was forced to marry another,

a faithless man.

This orphaned child, Eliza,
is very dear to me.

I understand.

As a soldier, I had to put her to school.

She's now 17.

Last year, a school friend invited her
to stay with her family at Bath.

Sometime later,
I heard that she had disappeared.

Her friend's father
had been unpardonably lax.

And so had I in trusting him.

The girls had been allowed out
unescorted in Bath.

It was there that Eliza met Willoughby.

- Willoughby.
- There were secret meetings, intimacies…

I can add no more.

You have no need to.

She wrote to me when her condition
could no longer be concealed.

I was at Barton,
and when the letter arrived

on the day of our excursion
to Whitwell, I left immediately.

She implored my help.
She was in London, alone and penniless.

The poor creature.

Willoughby had seduced her, then left her,

leaving no address, only false promises.

He neither wrote
nor returned nor relieved her.

This is beyond everything.

And Eliza, how is she?

I thank you.

She and the child are well.
I have placed them in the country.

But it is Willoughby that brought me here.

It is his character that is now before you.

I have known and kept silent.
I did not think I had any chance

of prevailing against his success,

even of being believed.

I even thought that perhaps
your sister's goodness might reclaim him.

He is even now engaged to another.

I heard this morning. I decided.

I hoped for your sister to know
the truth of what she has escaped may,

in time, console her.

You will use your discretion
in conveying this?

Of course.
I cannot thank you too profoundly, Colonel.

She has done no wrong.

She merits no shame.

What she needs now is…
friends to stand by her.

I know.

- My dear Elinor.
- John!

- How long have you been in town?
- Two days.

I very much wished
to call upon you yesterday,

but little Harry
would see the Tower of London.

Fanny is still exhausted after her exertions.
She sends her… regards.

May I introduce Colonel Brandon.
My brother, John Dashwood.

- How do you do, sir?
- Sir.

And how are you, Elinor?

- I am well.
- Mm-hmm.

And Marianne? Enjoying the town?

She's in bed. A nervous complaint.

Oh, I am sorry.

At her time of life
an illness takes the bloom off a girl.

She might be lucky to marry,
what, £600 a year.

Miss Dashwood,
may I call and enquire after your sister?

I hope you will, often.

Please let me show you out.

I can find my own way downstairs.

The Colonel, is he a man of fortune?

He has a property at Delaford in Dorsetshire.

Did you say Delaford?
Good heavens! I've heard of it.

It's a fine estate.
He seems a thorough gentleman, Elinor.

- You are lucky to have attracted him.
- What do you mean, brother?

I saw. I saw. What's his income?

- I believe about 2,000 a year.
- 2,000 a year!

I can assure you he has
not the slightest wish to marry me.

You are wrong, sister.
A man knows about these things.

A little trouble will secure him.

How pleased we would be.
And Fanny's mother too, Mrs Ferrars.

It would be something droll
if I could marry you off

and she married Edward off
at the same time.

Is Mr Edward Ferrars going to be married?

It is not actually settled,
but Mrs Ferrars is active in the matter.

And who is the lady she has chosen?

The honourable Miss Morton,

only daughter of a great fortune.

- I have never heard of her.
- She has £30,000.

And is she Edward's choice too?

Well, she is his mother's choice,
and her word is his law.

He must know that by now.

My dear, I am so glad about, er… Brandon
and that you are taken up by Mrs Jennings,

so affluent and generous a hostess.

No doubt your expenses continue to increase?

Hmm? Oh, atrociously.

It is such a relief
that you will be provided for.

Even in Mrs Jennings' will, perhaps.

I shall invite her to our family dinner.

Yes, and the Colonel too.

- Your dinner?
- The object of my call, dear sister.

Friday night. You and Marianne will have
the honour of meeting… Mrs Ferrars.

Synced by Peterlin