The Confessions of Frannie Langton (2022–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Episode #1.1 - full transcript

Follow me.

What is this?

Here she is.

What's going on?

Expecting us?

Madame? Get up.

Madame, wake up. Get up!

Our Father who art in heaven...

What do you want with me?

Get yourself downstairs now.

...thy kingdom come. Why?



...thy will be done.
You know why.

...on earth as it is in heaven.

Madame?

No, no, no, no. She's dead.

They're both dead.

Your mistress and your master, too.

No!

Which you well know,
since it's you who killed em.

FRANNIE SOBS

No, you can't be dead.

Please wake up. Come on!

No!

Look at what you've done.

VOICES CLAMOUR



What have you done to her?

I told her.

I warned her.

What have you done to her?

Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death...

I shall fear no evil,

for thou art with me.

Got the twitches, have you?

Take it off, then.

LOW HUM OF CHATTER

DOOR SLAMS

LOCK CLICKS

It won't rub off.

Now that you know, I'll thank you
to keep your hands to yourself.

Who do you think you are?

Remember...

DIALOGUE DROWNED OUT BY MUSIC

Miss Langton. Miss Langton!

Miss Langton.

Ah, Miss Langton, William Pettigrew.

I'm your brief.
Do you know what one of those is?

I have not instructed you.

The Society has taken
an interest in your case.

The scientists or the do-gooders?
What difference does it make?

So I'll know whether
you want to tame me or to rescue me.

WILLIAM CHUCKLES

Tell them you will speak with me.

Double murder is a hanging offence,
Miss Langton.

Do you have anyone else?

It's going to be difficult for you
to do your lawyering,

if you're not even prepared
to be in the same room as me.

HE SIGHS

Your reputation precedes you.

A-ah. If you start guzzling
this damned drug now,

I'll be unlikely to get any sense
out of you for quite some time.

I guarantee laudanum
will be more use to me than law.

Well, I shall do my best to provide
a useful quantity of both.

But first, I need some information.

I don't know what happened.

You were arrested
in your mistress's bed.

It's where I slept.

It's where I always slept.'

I didn't know she was dead.

I loved her...

...and she loved me.

You loved her?

Love isn't what you were expecting.

Fucking, maybe.

But not love.

I can't help you unless you give me
something to help you with.

I was sleeping.

And so was she.

That's all I remember.

I'm sorry.

Tell me what happened
before you went to sleep.

She wasn't well.

She wasn't up to hosting.

But Mr Benham wanted a party.

He insisted on it.

Whenever he said jump,

everyone in that house
said, "How high?"

So, she went.

And then?'

Then...' GLASS BREAKS

...she and I had a...

...a set-to.

A set-to?'

This is death.

There's a rather
long list of witnesses

claiming you threatened the Benhams

last night
in front of their guests.

Who? Who is saying that?

They've got a statement
from the victim's cousin.

Miss Hephzibah Elliot.

She's saying you formed an unnatural
attachment to your mistress.

Then there's Mr Olaudah Cambridge?
Him?

Ask him where he was
when she was dying.

And the housekeeper says
you had to be locked in the attic

after threatening the mistress.'

This is death!

I didn't threaten them.'

You think George Benham
was some kind of god?

Some great scientist,
England's finest mind.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please pay no attention.

He had you all fooled.'

Well, that's quite a thing to say

about the man who took you in,
gave you shelter.

You don't know a thing about him.

Didn't he take you in

when John Langton brought
you here from Jamaica?

I've been told he sent you
into service with him.

John Langton did not
send me into service.

He GAVE me to George Benham.

I will play no part
in slandering George Benham.

There won't be a juror in England
who'd be persuaded by it anyway.

Maybe I could set up
a proper argument in mitigation.

I think we should weave
your own history into it.

What does my history
have to do with this?

The fact that you were enslaved
in Jamaica.

We can use your background
to your advantage.

You want a slave story?

I can only imagine
what you must have suffered.

You are making assumptions.

The effects of the environment
you were raised in.'

That horrible institution.

You were inculcated in violence.

You want me to say I did it?

We could run it alongside
another argument.

You were intoxicated,
so addled by laudanum,

you weren't aware
what you were doing.

We could find a doctor
willing to swear to it.

You have it all decided already.
I'm trying to help you.

The thing you need to understand,
Mr Pettigrew...

...is that I'm fed up
of people like you

deciding who I am, or what I am,

as soon as you take one look at me.

And I will not confess to something
I don't believe I have done.

FRANNIE: This is my story.

And it's a story of love,

though everyone expected it
to be a story of murder.

In truth, no-one ever expects

any kind of story
from a woman like me.

No doubt you're thinking

this will be just another one
of those slave histories,

all sugared over
with misery and despair.

It won't be...

...because if you don't know by now

what went on
in all of those West India estates,

then you haven't been
paying attention.

This isn't a story about that.'

What took you so long?

This is a story about me.'

I hope you made sure
it was hot this time.

Good girl.

Hmm.

Make sure my papers are in order.
They're in order.

Don't worry.

I want to take them to George

as soon as we get off
this fucking ship.

To who?

Son of a bitch
thinks he can just toss me aside.

You're going to Benham's house?

You're going, too. SOFTLY: No.

That man's house is the last place
on Earth I want to set foot.

Go on your own.

Get dressed.

HE GRUNTS

No. The green.

HE GRUNTS AND GROANS SHARPLY

HE PANTS

I don't want to go there.

You will go where I tell you.

Wait here.

No-one would believe that
I was the one who followed him.

That I didn't run as soon
as I set foot on English soil.

But what would I do?
Where would I go?'

Be very careful with this one.

Come.

Sir.

This won't end well. It won't.

It did not end well with the boy,
yet here we are again.

Where do you think you're going?
I beg your pardon?

She's impudent.

That will have to change.

Go with her.
How long will you be?

DOOR SLAMS

Langton, I thought
I'd made myself clear?

My house burned down.

Where else did you think I would go?

I'll take the girl.

But you must find somewhere else
to lay your head.

Don't worry about me.

Whatever association we may
have had, Langton, is at an end.

Just read it.

First thing you will do
is scrub your hands.

Is this how your guests are treated?

SHE SCOFFS

I suppose you'll soon learn
how our guests are treated,

but for now you'll learn
how our hands are treated.

Kettle. Hot water.

Soap.

Wash yourself. If you know how.

I will not abide strange smells.

I won't make any.

Oh, pity's sake.
Where do you think you're going?

Let me quote Locke,

in the hope that his words
might drill through to you,

"Whatever I write, as soon as
I discover it not to be true,"

"my hand shall be forwardest
to throw it into the fire."

How dare you.

Whatever happened
to the little albino boy?

Another casualty of your fire?

You shall not roam
the house at will, girl.

You shall learn
to do as you are bid.

The albino was the last straw.
It was your idea!

Gentlemen, I do beg your pardon,
she would not settle downstairs.

Langton,
I am treated like a servant here.

You are a servant here.

SHOUTS: Charles. What?

Do not embarrass me.

You're leaving?
And you're staying.

I'm not staying here.
I am not staying here!

Langton!
I said do not embarrass me.

It's a havey-cavey business
if you ask me.

Tipping a woman
onto a man's doorstep.

No-one ever asks me.

You people think
you can just come here

and snatch the bread
from an Englishman's mouth.

Is he coming back?

I like this arrangement
even less than you do.

But we serve a common master now.

Mr Benham is our superintendent,
just as God is his.

There are many English girls
who would give their eye-teeth

to serve as housemaid
to George Benham.

No...

Enough.

Follow me.

You will sleep in the scullery.

I will not take any chances on you
roaming the house while we sleep.

No-one will force you, girl.

We don't deal in
that kind of savagery here.

You must make your own choices.

LATCH JANGLES

BANGS ON DOOR

Hello.

Open this door!

FRANNIE BANGS ON DOOR

Hello?

Let me out!

Door's unlocked.

If she'd quieten down for
just one minute, then she'd see...

...that there is quite simply
no need for all this fuss.

Porridge is under the fire cover.

The yellow bowl on the table
has been set aside for you.

Don't use any of the others.

Do you know how to use a spoon?

Are you serious?

You will address me as ma'am.

I am well aware of the customs
of English dining.

Ma'am.

There's a rush light for you there.
Make that one last the month.

Soap you'll get
on the same schedule.

Change into that.

I've never seen a blacky
this close before.

The little Black boy was here
before my time.

Did you really not know
he was going to leave you here?

That must have been a shock.

Quite the chatterbox, aren't you?

I suppose it's good you are quiet,
after the fuss you made last night.

I can't stay here.

I can't.

You should try
to just get on with things.

Any house can be strange at first,
but you get used to it, don't you?

Give no bother and you'll get none.

You'll get your wages at Michaelmas,
same as the rest of us.

Every second Sunday off for church.
And the master's kind enough.

As for Madame...
she's very beautiful,

but French... which Mrs Linux
can never forgive her for.

Each of them on their own is fine.

It's marriage that seems
to bring out the worst in them.

He can never be
exciting enough for her,

but she can never be
tame enough for him... Frances.

All over the Almack's.
Not even discreet.

Morning, ma'am... Madame.

And you are?

The new girl, ma'am.
From the Indies.

Frances Langton.

Hm, I see.

Meg, come along.

Something new at last
in this old boneyard.

And how are you finding us, Frances?

A shock.

SHE GIGGLES

I suppose we are, aren't we?

Milton.

You know of it?

"The mind is its own place,"

"and in itself can make
a heaven of hell..."

BOTH: "..a hell of heaven."

DOOR CLOSES

And the tinderboxes
are kept in here.

"The African is sly."

"Lascivious, lazy."

"What would such a person do
with freedom?"

"Freeing them would only put
the devil in their heads."

Where did you get that?

You know very well where I got it.

What are you doing
going through my things?

Your Mr Langton wrote this?

"Furthermore, we can prove,
using the scientific method,"

"that the negro is well-suited
to the work"

"he's been given in the West Indies."

"He is contented with it."

"He neither needs,
nor desires to be freed."

"And the limits
of any man's achievements"

"lie at the limits of his desire."

Eat it, since you want to read it.

Langton's girl.

Stay.

Sir?

I'd like a word with you.

It was my idea, you know,
your education.

To see if we could make
an English schoolboy out of you.

Only we spared you
the flogging and the fagging.

You did not spare me anything.

Perhaps Langton didn't.

And I wish I'd known what
he'd been up to in that regard...

...but please, take a seat.

Now, our original intention
was to engage in a study

of the natural mental endowments
of each race of men, that was all.

But...

...Langton, he was the one
experimenting on human beings.

I was sponsoring him
for science not savagery.

And now that he's here,
my name is being dragged

into all of the gossip and
speculation concerning him alone.

I told him repeatedly
not to come here.

He took it too far...
SPEECH FADES.

Until I sat face to face with him,

it hadn't occurred to me
that he would simply lie.

That he would pretend
he had no idea

what Langton had been doing,

that he had not been the one
who put him up to it.'

I want to know everything
that happened there.

Every last thing.

The truth.

I was his scribe.

That's all.

But, of course, I was lying, too.'

Mm-hm.

You want me to confess
Langton's sins?

Oh, I think we both know a thing
or two about man's imperfections.

About atonement?

Very well.

While you're here, would you mind...

...taking down your hair?

What?

Not that. What do you take me for?
I only want to study it.

For so many years, I told myself

that if my path ever crossed his,
I'd make sure he felt it.

And then my courage failed me
when I had the chance.'

May I?

All that I had been through
at Paradise.'

55.

All that I had done

had been because of George Benham.'

Ten and a half.

Had been because
he had pulled Langton's strings.

And then to find myself
in his house,

having to sit there
while he toyed with me.'

You know, I think
we should speak frankly.

It would assist us both.

It was, at times...

...more than I could bear.'

DOOR OPENS AND SLAMS SHUT

FLASHBACK: Can this last?

Run away with me, please.

Become your own woman.'

KEYS JANGLE

Frannie.

What have you done to yourself?

Sal?

Oh, my sweet girl.

Me bring you this.

You going to have to look
presentable

when them take you to court.

And me bring you this for now.

Sal was always rescuing me,
this time was no different.

If there was anyone who could bring
me comfort at my lowest point...'

Let me see. '..It was her.'

Oh, beautiful.

Sal...

What am I going to do?

Oh, come here.

We could start by fixing your hair.

What's wrong with my hair?

Sorry.

What me tell you?

Something like this
was bound to appen to that man.

Him finally get what him deserve.

I would a told you to kill
all two of them long time.

If I thought you had it in you.

One ting I know for sure...

hell would have to freeze over
before you could kill her.

We argued, Sal.

Just before their guests arrived.'

I said some truly awful things.

A foolishness ya talk.

You never kill anybody.'

And where you get that?

Thank you for my hair.

Me come here to help ya
and you not even help yourself.

You just a slipped right back
into that poison. Ku paan yuh.

Frannie, no more of this.
You hear me?

You have to try to remember.

You have to think.
We have to fight this.

Please, Frannie, please.

Or them are gon' kill you.

She's dead, Sal.

They are going to kill me.

And no amount of love talk
goin' help you.

Maybe.

But I have nothing left.

It's all I have.

It's all I had.

It's all I wanted.

DOOR OPENS, CLOSES

Are you just going to stand there?

Ma'am, I beg your pardon.
Madame.

Please don't "ma'am" me.

You're a writer?

Writer?

SCOFFS I'm a wife.

My husband would say

that is occupation enough
for any wife of his.

But you're making notes.

I find it hard to read

without scribbling
my own thoughts alongside.

I do that, too.

I think everyone should be
prescribed a poem a day, don't you?

Though Byron here is proof,
if ever it were needed,

that a man is merely spoiled
by his vices...

...while a woman is soiled by hers.

I've always wanted to write.
Hmm.

Not such a straightforward ambition
for a woman.

No.

I think that men write to separate
themselves from the common history.

Women write to try to join it.

SHE CHUCKLES

English maids are
not so well-spoken as you are.

Nor as well-read.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

What do you think you're doing?

Did I not tell you
to be seen and not heard?

Surely I can decide who I wish

to see or hear in my own house,
Mrs Linux?

The girl was only
answering my questions.

And while we're at it,
I think I should dictate

the sleeping arrangements
in my own house also.

I'm sure there is
more than enough room

for Frances upstairs with Prudence.

As you wish.

In any event,
it was you I came to see, Madame.

You've not responded
to my inquiries this morning.

That is why I came up.

Your inquiries are tiresome.

That is why I did not come down.

I thought perhaps Prudence
had not delivered my messages.

She did.

Very well.

There is still
the matter of the portrait.

The master is wondering
why it is back on display.

I put it back. By yourself?

He made the boy disappear...

...and now he wants
the painting to disappear also.

Be that as it may, Mrs Benham,

this sort of thing
is not so much in vogue now, is it?

I have asked Charles to see to it.

Thought I'd give you fair warning.

PRUDENCE: ..this afternoon.
MAN: Delicious.

I was worried I'd made it
too dry again. It's very nice.

Don't get up. Please.
I beg your pardon.

Were we disturbing you, madam?

Oh, no.
Mr Casterwick, please, do go on.

I'm sure I won't be playing
what you're used to.

It's the violin, Mr Casterwick.
Whatever you play will be a lament.

Where is Mr Benham?

Your husband, Madame?

Your guess is as good as mine,
Mrs Linux.

Trying to locate the master
of this house after nightfall

is a fool's errand.

It's Madeira, Madame.
Baked this afternoon.

Shall I have Prudence
bring you up a slice?

We should have a dance.

Why not?
Our own little kitchen ball.

Come on, Charles, move the chairs.

Allez. Hurry up. Vite, vite.

Now, Mr Casterwick, might you have
something a little less, er...

funeral-like in your repertoire?

Certainly, ma'am.

HE PLAYS A JAUNTY TUNE

Frances? We're a man short.

You or I must play
the breeches role.

I'll count, don't worry.

Now round!

And change.

Arm.

Now come here.

MEG SHRIEKS

BREATHLESS: Good night.

Love didn't do a ting for you
back then,

and it will do
even less for you now.

They are going to say
I'm a murderer anyway.

Sal...

A thief.

A whore.

How can I fight it?

If they point the finger at me,

who's going to believe
someone else could have done it?

I have done many terrible things.
You know that, Sal.

I have been many terrible things.

But I was hers also.

They cannot tell me what I feel.

Neither can you.

It wasn't just love.

It was all the things
WE aren't supposed to feel.

Need, want, anger too.

Anger and want.

Equal as butter and sugar
in a pound cake.

I let myself want something.

And I let myself imagine
she might want it, too.'