Sense and Sensibility (1981–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Episode #1.6 - full transcript

The sisters are to end their unhappy stay in London. Elinor is now as desolate as Marianne, as the secret of Edward's engagement is out at last and he intends to stand by it.


Mrs Jennings tells me
you are to leave for home tomorrow.

Yes, she is taking Mrs Palmer
and the baby to their home at Cleveland.

We shall rest there a day before going home.

Most wise.
Your sister is looking disturbingly frail.

I heard this morning…

of an injustice which your friend Mr Ferrars
has suffered at the hand of his family.

He is cast off merely for acting honourably
towards a decent young woman. Is that true?


The cruelty, foolish cruelty,
of so punishing a young couple

that are genuinely attached is terrible.

I agree.

I understand
that Mr Ferrars wishes to take holy orders.

That is true.

The living of Delaford, which is in my gift,
is vacant. I would like him to have it.

Oh, my dear Colonel.

It is but a poor living,
no more than £200 a year,

though I believe capable of improvement.

And the rectory is but a small one.

It will not be easy for a young couple
but it would be a roof over their heads.

- And it is theirs.
- I am delighted for them and with you.

You see, Miss Elinor,
I would like you to tell him.

I… Oh, I could not.

Why not? You are his friend.

Surely it is a task
you could best perform yourself.

I would rather not.

I have only met him a few times.

From me, it might seem a gratuitous act
of charity, offensive to him.

- No.
- Please, Miss Elinor.

Be his friend and mine. Speak for me.

I do not even know where he is.

I have his address. He is in London.

I would so much rather this came from you.

Do this for me before you leave?

- Elinor.
- Edward.

I am so relieved
that my note reached you in time.

I would not have intruded upon you
had you not written to summon me.

I hope you don't mind being shown in here.
The others are in the drawing room.

You must… know what has happened.

I had not intended to trouble you.

Oh, it is never a trouble to see you.

But it is painful to stand before you
at this of all times.

There is a matter on which
I had intended to write you at length,

but when I tried, it seemed easier to talk,
so I confined myself to asking you here.

Colonel Brandon was here today.
He says that as soon as you take orders,

he offers you the living of Delaford.

Colonel Brandon? But I hardly know him.

He means it as a token of his concern
at the cruel situation

in which your family has placed you.

Colonel Brandon offer me a living?

Can it be possible?

The unkindness makes
you think that there is no friendship?

No. I know I have yours.


You know I am no orator, but…

You are wrong, Edward.

I have no hand in it. You owe it to
Colonel Brandon's belief in your own merit.

No, you must have spoken for me.

I didn't even know that he had the gift
of a living, let alone that it was vacant.

Upon my word,
you owe nothing to any plea of mine.

Then Colonel Brandon is a wonderful man.

You will find him so,
for he will be your close neighbour.

By the way, he warned me
that the living is a poor one.

It is the saving of me.

Colonel Brandon lodges
in St James Street, I think.

At number 24.

I must hurry to thank him.

Edward, we are leaving tomorrow.


We are going home to Barton.

Then it must be goodbye.

For the present.


if it were consistent
with honour for me to speak… to…

When I see you again, you will be married.

May you and your wife be happy.

My dear one… God bless you.

Oh, thank you. Thank you.

Oh, now then.
Charlotte, you just get baby inside quickly.

Ooh, my legs do ache.

And you, Miss Marianne,
we must find a nice warm bed for you.

- It is only a chill.
- Leave her to me.

Very well, but see her warm quickly.

We must hurry. It is bitterly cold.

Oh, I feel better.

- Truly, it's just that foul coach.
- Come.

- This way, ladies, please.
- Thank you.

Shut the doors as soon as you can,
the wind's like a knife.

It is good to be back
at Cleveland, Mrs Wallis. Is all well?

Yes, ma'am.
And your room lovely and warm for baby.

May I see him? Oh, what a fine little man.

He has his papa's chin but your eyes, ma'am.

Yes, he has my eyes.

Mr Palmer has remained in London on business.

Colonel Brandon
shall be down tomorrow by post-chaise.

- Have a room ready for him.
- Very good, ma'am.

Now, Charlotte, take baby upstairs
and have him changed before he starts to cry.

My baby never cries, do you, baby?


Come along, there's a good girl.

That's right. Now then, Mrs Wallis,
these are the Miss Dashwoods.

And Miss Marianne here
appears to be not at all well.

I'll show the young ladies their room.

No, I will take them up, and you can send us
up some nice hot cordials.

And plenty of brandy in mine.

- I know your taste, ma'am.
- (LAUGHS) Come along, girls.

Help, somebody! Please!

Mrs Wallis,
I want a physician here and quickly.

Yes, ma'am, at once.


As I thought, Miss Dashwood,
the disorder has a putrid tendency.

- There is a widespread infection.
- An infection?

Yes, ma'am. Throughout the system.

We are due to leave for Devon tomorrow.

Young lady, there can be
no question of moving your sister.

The fever is high. The condition is serious.

- An infection. That is serious indeed.
- A congestion of the lungs may follow.

- Mother…
- I am sorry, Mrs Jennings, Mrs Palmer.

Fiddle-diddle! Stay here she must.

Fortunately, I have a preparation
that is most efficacious.

It has saved lives
that have been despaired of.

Miss Dashwood.

I'll be back in a minute, my dear.

Mrs Palmer, she is to be given
an eggcupful once every hour without fail.

- Every hour.
- No other food.

Cooling liquids, but in moderation.

- Yes, yes.
- All windows closed, of course.

- Indeed.
- I shall come back tomorrow morning.

Thank you, Mr Harris.

Mama, what are we to do?

Well, you must stay away
from the bedroom, certainly.

But it is a putrid infection!

I must take baby away within the hour.

- Where will you go?
- My cousins at Bath will take me in.

Come along, Mother,
we've not got a moment to lose.

What? All run away and leave the poor girl
untended in our house?

Mrs Wallis will be here. She's very capable.

Oh, Mother, we must think of ourselves first.

You go, my dear. As to me,
I took them away from their mother's care,

and their mother I must be.

But think of the danger.

My mind is made up.


- Elinor…
- My darling?

Am I going to die?

Of course not.

I feel I shall.

You must fight. Think of Mother. Think of me.


I still think of him…

and care not if I die.

Oh, Colonel, thank heavens you have come!

- Mrs Jennings, is something amiss?
- Amiss? Oh, Colonel,

the poor girl has been ill
for two days and may not last.

- Girl? What girl?
- Marianne.

- Marianne!
- A putrid infection.

- It may reach the lungs.
- Good heavens!

- Doctors! Medical care! What have you done?
- There is only Harris the apothecary.

- None other within 20 miles.
- I shall find one.

Mr Harris has sent for a physician from Bath.

- When will he be here?
- When he is found, Colonel.

- Is there nothing I can do?
- What can a man do?

Oh, Colonel,
so many of these cases are fatal.

I will not be an encumbrance here.

- I will stay close by, an inn.
- Oh, no, no! Please, Colonel, I beg you.

I must have a man about the house.

The hours go so slow,
even if only to play a game of cards.


Please do not
think me heartless, it's just…

That poor girl upstairs.

(SOBS) So near to her end!

- Mama!
- Shh! Shh! Shh!

Read to me, Mama.

- Mama is not here.
- Teach me the ABC.

Oh, where is Mama?

Tell her not to go by London
or she will go to the shops and not come.

How is she?

Her delirium is worse.
We must send for Mother.

We could, but it's two days there and back.

A messenger could be there and back
by tomorrow night.

- A messenger? Let me see…
- I know who will go.

Stay with her, Mrs Jennings.

Mama? Is that you?

Poor child.

Trust me. Drive on!

Hmm… Bronchia are bad.

The lungs are not yet reached,
but they may be at any moment.


The patient is seriously undernourished.

She has eaten no more
than a sparrow does for this past six weeks.

And not for want of my begging her.

Her health was already falling off you say?

She was in a sad state,
an affair of the heart.

A decline most serious.

There is no vital force left.
It would be useless to bleed or purge.

- That was exactly my conclusion.
- I concur with Mr Harris' treatment.

- There is nothing more to be done.
- But…

Nothing but to await
the dictates of providence.

I have another urgent case and
a long journey. Mr Harris will be at hand.

Thank you for coming.

Well, sir?

Good day, Mrs Jennings.

- Mrs Jennings!
- Oh, thank heavens. I'm so afraid.

Look at her.

Oh, Elinor, I fear it is the end.

She is burning away.

Your poor mother,
what she must be suffering.

- The Colonel promised to be here by ten!
- I'm afraid they will come too late.


She is going.

- There is less heat.
- Oh, the Lord giveth…

It still beats.

It is becoming a little stronger.

She is breathing.

Her breathing is light but steady.

Mrs Jennings,
I believe the crisis has passed.

She is asleep.

Pray God she is.

But I fear you may
break your heart with false hope.

I know that deceitful lull before the end.

The fever has almost gone
and her breathing is good.

Oh, Elinor, I do believe…

She sleeps.

It is the sleep that heals.

- Oh, my darling, sleep sweetly.
- The Lord be praised.


I am so relieved,
it has quite turned my stomach.

I shall be well enough here, my dear.

I'm so happy she's come through.

- You go and rest.
- No, look, you are worn out.

- I feel reborn, you go.
- Are you sure?

I will stay until Mother comes.

- It is only two hours.
- Oh, all right.

I shall sleep light-hearted tonight.

Goodnight, my loves.


They're here!



Mr Willoughby.

Miss Dashwood.

- Let me speak with your sister.
- You have no business here.

I entreat you!
Give me but a few moments with her.

- My sister is ill.
- She's ill?

She is out of danger,
but only now out of danger.

God be thanked. Then I beg you to hear me.
Give me but ten minutes. Less, if you will.

Then be quick. I have no time to lose.
Thank you, Roberts.

- Your sister is out of danger. What was it?
- Please waste no more time.

Do you think me most a knave or a fool?

I will not listen to this.

Kindly come here when you are in a fit state.

Oh, I read your thoughts.
Yes, I am very drunk.

- One pint at Marlborough was enough.
- At Marlborough?

I left London this morning,
and I have not stopped but for luncheon.

Mr Willoughby, after what has passed,
this requires an explanation.

I came to see Ma… your sister.

I came to offer some explanation,
an apology, for the past.

- And you are prepared to address me instead?
- Yes.

If I can make you hate me
one degree less than you do now.

I came to convince you that
although I have always been a blockhead,

I have not always been a rascal.

And what purpose can this avowal serve now?

To obtain forgiveness from your sister!

I am listening.

When I first met your family, I thought only
of passing my time pleasantly at Barton.

Your sister's lovely person
could not but please me.

At first, I had no design
of returning her affections.

- Mr…
- No, I insist you hear all.

I was loaded with debt.
I depended on my aunt.

What a fool I was!

I could have been poor
with Marianne and happy.

Then you did at one time
believe yourself attached to her?

The happiest hours of my life
were those I spent with her.

My intentions were honourable,
my feelings blameless.

I was determined
to avow myself openly to her.

But then a discovery took place.

If you wish to tell me that your aunt
sent you away to prevent the match,

I guessed that long ago.

Do you also know that…

I was called to London
by the disastrous turn of an earlier…

…profligate connection?

I know the name of Eliza Williams.

Colonel Brandon is my friend.

How you explain away your guilt
is beyond my understanding!

I do not justify myself, but you cannot
suppose that the girl was irreproachable.

Do not excuse your cruelty by her weakness.

Please believe me!

My only way out
was in a match with a lady of fortune.

My affection for Marianne and hers for me

could not outweigh… my dread of poverty.

My misery on that day I left Barton…

It calls for no sympathy, if you felt it.


And at that dreadful party
when your sister appealed to me…

- I was there too.
- I wished to die.

But then you sent her that letter,
your vile, cruel letter. Shall I quote it?

- My wife's letter.
- Your wife's?

It was in your handwriting.

I had only the credit of copying what
she dictated and the shame of signing it.

Nothing excuses me.

I have confessed my guilt.

When your sister is recovered,

will you relate to her what I have told you?

Will you tell her of my misery
and my penitence,

that my present life is my punishment…

…that my heart
has never been inconstant to her…

…that she is dearer to me than ever…

…and that I ask her forgiveness?

You must leave that decision to me.

There is no use staying here.

Mr Willoughby, why did you come here?

I could bear it no longer.

God bless you…



Synced by Peterlin