The Duchess of Duke Street (1976–1977): Season 2, Episode 4 - Winter Lament - full transcript

Got you at last, little chap.

Come on, dainty chap.

Let's take you to meet my mum.

You come along with me and
take a look at the big house.

You'll like it. I know you will.

WOMAN: Lottie?
Lottie, where are you,

you little devil?

How many times must I
tell you to stay in kitchen?

Where is that child?

Lottie!

Oh, Louisa!



Oh.

Ha ha!

Oh, Lou... down, down!

Go on, go on!

What a treat it is to see you.

Yeah. You, too, Charlie,

especially after
that journey I've had.

Blimey, I thought
I'd never get here.

Oh, the trains are simply awful!

The trains are all right.

It's the passengers
I can't stand.

You look wonderful.

It's the country air I've had

blowing down me
neck the last few hours.



Oh, it's a nice,
modest sort of place

you got here, Charlie.

Blimey...

Oh, but, Louisa,
you're cold, my dear.

Yeah, I am a bit.

Oh, Pickering, see to
the fire, will you, man?

The wretched thing's
practically dead.

Yeah, but I didn't come
all this way just to gawp.

I've got a hotel
to run, remember.

You are sweetness
itself to come all this way.

Yeah, sweet I may
be.

Salt's better for you.

What am I here for?

Couldn't make head
nor tail of your letter.

Well, Margaret and I
both needed a tonic.

Who more obvious
than you, Louisa?

All right, you fine
country fella, you.

Now I'm here, you'd better
show me over the family ruin.

A pleasure, ma'am.

LOUISA: I'd hate that bloody...

CHARLES: Well, yes,
it is one the problems.

There are many problems.

Nanny, can I introduce
you to Mrs. Trotter?

Louisa, this is my
beloved old nanny,

but you're forbidden
to talk to her

because she'll tell you
the most fiendish lies

about my youth.

Oh, dear.

Here you go.

CHARLES: Life's quite
different here, of course,

like turning the clock back.

Partly childhood
memories, I suppose,

partly the style of the place.

Oh, I thought I heard something.

Actually, digging up the
past has become my passion.

Digging it up?

Yes. Oh, literally, I mean.

You know, with
an ax and a shovel.

Oh, blimey, that
sounds a bit nasty.

Not a bit of it. No,
as a matter of fact,

the local vicar is
something of an expert.

LOUISA: Well, Charlie...

Margaret...

Oh, you look lovely,
my sweet, but...

..but won't you be cold?

MARGARET: Why ever
should I be cold, Charles?

Louisa, how very
nice to see you.

The point is, Louisa, you
understand Charles so well.

Now that the shooting
season is over,

he's getting frightfully bored.

Oh, dear. Poor
love. What a shame.

And to go without
shooting pheasants and...

slaughtering woodcock
4 times a week

is a great hardship for a man.

But of course.

What's got into you Charlie?

If you ask me, you're
bored because you're boring.

Oh, you're probably right.

Getting to be just
like father, I suppose.

Oh, good God, if you'd
told me that a few years ago,

I wouldn't have believed you.

And if we told you now,

you'd shoot us.

Yeah, but only in season.

PICKERING: What the devil...

WOMAN: The next time I catch you out there,

I'll skin you!

Now, you'll have naught
but bread and milk for supper,

you gormless child! Come on!

Now, sit down there
and don't move!

Do you know where I found her?

Oh, don't let her trouble you.

The times I've told
her to stay in kitchen!

But will she listen? No!

Come on. Get your tea.

There we are.

Aye, now...

Who is she?

Well, she's no friend
of her ladyship's,

that's certain.

Where she sprung from, then?

Old friend of Lord
Haslemere's, most likely...

If you know what I mean.

No!

Well, why not?

Oh, yes. I know right enough.

Hee hee hee!

Was it the summer of 1908
when I first came here, Charles?

I think so.

I remember...

The house was simply
swarming with people.

It was one of those
heavenly house parties

your mother used to give.

I was quite dazzled.

In the afternoon,

Charles and I went
out on the lake.

Ohh...

And Charles's mother,

frightfully regal in
a cream lace gown,

stood on the
terrace calling us...

But we didn't come in.

Well, don't you
remember, Charles?

Well, no, I don't.

You've mentioned it before,

but I honestly haven't
the slightest recollection

of that afternoon.

I think I'll go to bed.

Yes, of course, my
dear. It's quite late.

Good night.

Good night.

Louisa...

I'm so awfully glad
that you could come.

Nanny! Nanny, where are you?

NANNY: All right. Here I am.

Well...

Good God, I haven't seen
Margaret half so jolly for months.

She's excited to
see you, Louisa.

Yeah, but she looks
so white and pasty.

Yes. Well, she's not been...

..tiptop for some time...

sickness, headaches,
that sort of thing.

Has she seen a doctor?

Oh, yes. Yes,
yes, the local chap,

but she detests him.

Come to think of it,

he never did father
much good either.

Oh, but there's...

There's nothing seriously
wrong with her, you understand.

I mean, well, she hides
herself away too much,

and there's no one she's
especially taken to up here,

except the vicar.

He comes and chats,

reads to her when she's
stuck in bed, that sort of thing.

He's a good chap.

We go on digs
together, he and I.

Oh, yes. I told you.

But, you see...

Well, Margaret has
no close woman friend.

And what have you
been up to, my boy?

Nothing you
shouldn't have, I trust.

I have been the model
of domestic virtue.

Oh, Louisa...

It's so good to see you...

To see you here.

Yeah, it's good to be here.

It's a bit odd, I'll tell you.

I know.

I thought you and Margaret might

like to amuse yourselves
having a go at this place.

How do you mean?

Well, look at it.

I mean to say,

it's hardly the model of
fashionable good taste, is it?

No. Now you come
to mention it, it isn't.

Dash it all, Louisa.

We need to be woken from
our time-honored stupor.

Yeah, you need a
new cook and all!

Shh! She's irreplaceable.

But, Charlie,

what that girl needs
most of all is babies,

and I can't help you there.

What are you doing
in here, you little tyke?

Go on! Get out! Out!

What you waiting for? Out! Out!

Mrs. Trotter.

Good morning.

I thought I heard something.

Yeah, there was
a little girl in here.

I don't know who she was.

- Do with a good hiding.
- Elsie's child.

Oh, she gets under
everybody's feet.

I'll speak of it.

The hours I spent in here
when Charles was little...

Happy hours and all...

- Wicked, though, he was.
- Was he?

Oh, aye, wicked as they come...

And he thought
he'd only got to smile

to get away with it.

It's a shame they
ever have to grow up.

Oh, I don't know. I prefer
men to boys, meself.

God forgive me.
Even his lordship and

— I love him well enough —

still, sometimes I wish
he were not a man.

Why? What would you have
him be instead...a mermaid?

Oh, no, no, no.

I just wish he were
a little chap again.

Lady Haslemere's
not well, is she?

Poor dear.

Doctor no good, is he?

He's good enough.

...There's naught a doctor
can do for her complaint.

Come on! Come on!

That's a boy! That's a boy!

Come on! Yeah, yeah! Come on!

Hmm...

Oh, you do it, Louisa.

Well, that's not the point of
the blooming exercise is it?

You feeling all right?

Yes, perfectly all right.

Charles exaggerates
dreadfully, you know.

Where's Charles?

I don't know.

Out.

He's always out.

Oh, come on, let's get
out of this bloody morgue

before we take root!

LOUISA: So, when I was a kid,

I wanted to be a schoolmistress,

but I didn't have the chance.

No money.

So I left school when I was 12,

started off being
a maid of all work...

..a shilling a week.

It was terrible, really.

Still, I hated home so much,

I'd have done anything —
well, almost anything —

to get away.

I had a long, fat plait
down me back then.

Oh, I hated wearing
long dresses,

but I loved that plait.

Dodo, giddy!

So, what did you want to be?

I think I just
wanted to be free,

to get out into the world.

But brought up as I was, Louisa,

respectable alternatives
were few and far between.

Then when I met Charles,

I just wanted to be his wife,

which was apparently all right.

Here you are, Dodo.

Hang on, hang on!

Get it! Oh.

So, what do you want now, then?

Oh, to be happy, I suppose.

Well, that's no good, is it?

Well, happiness isn't
impossible, Louisa.

No, but you can't go into
a shop and buy it, can you?

It's the sort of thing
that creeps up on you

when you least expect it,

sometimes when
you don't even want it.

Louisa, look!

That little boat over there.

Yes?

It's the one we used

when we went out on the lake.

Do you remember me telling you?

Yeah.

Charles rowed right
out into the middle,

though, of course, we...

couldn't agree on
where the middle was.

Then he put up the oars,

and the boat drifted.

It was warm...

Very sunny.

Every now and then,
a moorhen called,

but, otherwise, not a sound.

Nothing...

No one. Just us...

Drifting.

Oh, Louisa...

Where have all the happy,
innocent times of my life gone?

Do you think I love
Charles too much?

I very much doubt it.

They do say love is more
important to a woman.

Only if she's got nothing
else to think about.

In my opinion, there's
a load of rubbish

talked about love.

Oh, if ever you really get it,

don't try making
it last for always.

You want to stop
it quick, frame it...

And you always have
it to look back on, fresh.

Can't get on with the
real business of life

till you done that.

You know what I mean?

Yes, I do. I do.

Thanks, Gaspard.

CHARLES: Hello.

What are you two
so cheery about?

We've been talking about love.

Well, I never knew that ladies

found love a laughing matter.

Well, you know me, Charlie.
I don't take nothing seriously.

♪ Lead us, heavenly
Father, lead us ♪

♪ o'er the world's
tempestuous sea; ♪

♪ guard us, guide
us, keep us, feed us, ♪

♪ for we have no help but thee; ♪

♪ yet possessing
every blessing, ♪

♪ if our God our Father be. ♪

♪ Savior, breathe
forgiveness o'er us: ♪

♪ all our weakness
thou doest know; ♪

Which one's Lottie?

Second from the right.

♪ ...thou didst feel
its keenest woe; ♪

♪ lone and dreary,
faint and weary, ♪

LOUISA: I mean,
look at that baby.

It's a nice enough little baby.

I don't love it.

It could be anyone as
far as I'm concerned.

ALL: ♪ Amen ♪

LOUISA: What do you think
you're doing in here, you little tyke?

VICAR: This morning,

I want to say something
about the need for all of us

to observe carefully,

to look and listen well

before jumping to all
sorts of fancy notions

and silly superstitions.

In conversation
recently with a neighbor,

the old chap remarked
that it was clear to him

that the cock starling
is an habitual bigamist.

Now, I have been on
intimate terms with starlings

for some 40 years,

and I have observed no
serious symptoms of bigamy.

The starling is slandered,
and the cause is simple:

believing something without
fit or sufficient evidence.

LOUISA: There's nothing like religion

for giving you a healthy appetite.

Mind you, I've never heard
a sermon like it in me life.

Bigamy's not common
around here, is it?

Well, it's not the local
vice so far as I know.

No, I think the old
chap was moaning on

about superstition and
bigotry. He often does.

Mind you, he's
fighting a losing battle.

Old habits die hard.

You may have noticed
this area is not remarkable

for its advanced thoughts.

Why should they change?

Well, change is sometimes
altogether desirable,

don't you think?

You don't feel sick,
do you, Margaret?

Not in the slightest.

All I can see of you, Margaret,

is the top of your lovely head.

To be honest, I'd rather
hold a conversation with you

than a bunch of oranges.

Louisa, I do wish you wouldn't!

You seem to forget that...

what are you doing, Louisa?

When did you last have
a proper meal, Margaret?

Look at you! You're
skin and bone!

WHISPERING: I can't eat.

What?

I can't eat!

Why the hell not?

I mustn't! It makes me
ill. When I eat, I'm sick!

Well, it's small wonder

she don't eat the muck
your cook serves up.

CHARLES: It's not that bad.
It's not the food, I tell you.

Besides, I'm sure
she usually eats it.

- She doesn't look so bad.
- She looks bloody awful.

Small wonder she
don't have babies,

carrying on like this!

I should never
have married! Never!

Never! I'm no good as a wife!

I'll never be any good
as a wife! I know it!

CHARLES: Nanny? Nanny,
come here at once, will you?

NANNY: All right,
all right. I'm not deaf!

What is it, my little love?

Oh, never mind, love.

Nanny's here.

NANNY: Take Mrs.
Courtney's oldest.

That child's no more
her own than he's mine.

They couldn't have none...

So they thought.

But the minute that
little lad was theirs,

she fell for one of her own.

Ha! And she's gone
on year after year!

No, it's the...

It's the fretting and
the worrying over it

that stop you having babies.

Now, then...

Look what I've got for you.

The trouble I went
to getting that for you!

You'd never believe it.

MARGARET: You're
very kind, Nanny.

What about the Richards' child?

NANNY: Lottie?

That little thing is as always

scuttering in the yard
where she has no business.

Yes, Lottie.

I've heard it said
that she's adopted.

Ah, she is that.

Mind you, with them,
there's been no more.

Mind you, that one's
such a little devil,

I don't suppose they'd
thank you for another.

How did they come to find her?

Ohh...

I don't know, love.

I think his lordship knew
of an orphan in London that...

..no one wanted.

But I'll tell you this...

Unwanted babies
are easier to find

than a proper witch stick.

A witch stick with power
must be cut from a rowan tree

you've never seen
in your life before.

MARGARET: It's
not true! It's not true!

NANNY: Oh, love!

Ohh, poor...

She's just the wrong
sort of woman to have.

She's a superstitious old bat.

She's been absolutely
marvelous with Margaret.

Marvelous? This has been
going on for weeks and months

and she's said nothing
and done nothing.

Nanny is loyal and kind.
You don't understand, Louisa.

She's part of the family.

Well, she's still a
superstitious old bat.

She was my nanny.

You know what they say:

"Spare the rod,
spoil the child."

Oh, look, to return
to the present,

Margaret isn't exactly a child.

Well, she looks like one
from where I'm standing,

and I'm going to
treat her like one.

I'm going to make that girl
better if it's the last thing I do.

From now on, I'll prepare
all her meals meself.

That old cat in the
kitchen can like it or lump it.

That's what Margaret needs:
good food and fresh air,

a bit of fun, and
more loving attention

from His Blooming
Lordship! Right?

Right?

Right.

Mind what you're doing
there! Butterfingers!

Well, Charles...

Your turn, Charlie.

You see, I mustn't eat.

I mustn't.

What in hell am I supposed
to do with a woman like that?

What is it she wants?

Do you know? Because
I'm damned if I do!

You're right, Louisa.

She isn't a woman anymore.
She's a spoilt, demented child!

I'm sick to death of her!

LOUISA: All right, Mrs. Ord.

I'll sit with Lady Haslemere.

...all right if I speak
my mind, Margaret?

Of course.

I don't think you're ill.

I think you're just
letting yourself go.

I feel so tired.

Now, what's gone wrong
between you two, eh?

I don't have to talk to you.

Given half a chance,

you'd just turn your face to the
wall and give up, wouldn't you?

Now, if you want to get well,

we're going to have to
work at it, my girl, together.

"He holds her with
his glittering eye...

"The charming guest stands still

"And listens like
a three years child.

The master hath his will."

Lie down again.

I feel like a ghost...

At night, sitting here alone.

Somehow I never imagined
being in this place alone.

I can't get used to it.

This house has
always meant parties,

friendly faces everywhere,
voices, children.

Now look at it.

Listen. Not a sound...

Except the bloody wind.

Oh, well, what the hell.

And you, my dear Louisa...

What of you?

Oh, I don't know. I feel...

..jumpy, bad-tempered.

Couldn't sleep.

You don't think Margaret
knows about Lottie, do you?

Why?

Well, there's always gossip.

You're blaming Nanny
again, aren't you?

Yeah, all right.

Seeing Lottie again

makes me remember things

I haven't thought of in years.

Oh, what sort of things?

Being that age meself...

What I thought
I'd do with me life.

Then I look at her, and I think

what can she do with her life,

poor little blighter?

I mean, what sort of choice

has a kid like
that got, Charlie?

What sort of choice
did you have at her age?

Well, I knew what I wanted.

Well, maybe Lottie
knows what she wants.

Maybe not.

Either way, it's her own life,

and it's the only
life she knows.

And don't go putting ideas and

memories of your
own into her head.

I can't help it.

Look, I know how
you feel, Louisa.

But neither of us can step in
and play fairy godmother now.

We both gave up that right

when Lottie was
only a few weeks old.

The Richards are a
decent sort of people,

and Lottie's a
tough little thing.

She'll be all right.

I sometimes wonder
what sort of choice

Margaret had, anyway.

Oh, you mean
marriage or...marriage?

Yes.

But not motherhood.

No.

And how's it worked
out in bed, Charlie?

It hasn't...

Not for a long time.

I've said nothing
about it partly out of...

Well, loyalty, I
suppose, to Margaret,

partly out of wounded pride.

I never did take
kindly to rejection.

Well, you see the
irony in it, I'm sure.

...resigned myself to
losing our daughter...

Set all my hopes in Margaret...

and our life together,
the estate, children.

Thought of nothing
else, and then...

..my divine and loving young wife

became disgusted by
the thought of making love,

disgusted by me.

I am made of flesh and blood,

and she, apparently,
is made of air.

My God.

Well, look at the way she
was brought up Charlie...

By a stuffy old uncle
who thought she'd

wilt if anyone so much
as looked at her.

I know, I....

I bore it all in
mind. I was, I hope,

gentle and considerate, but...

I honestly think
Margaret believes

sex is some lunatic,
perverted invention of my own!

It's a miracle to me
the upper classes

haven't died out altogether.

But, Louisa, most
upper-class young ladies

have a highly
developed sense of duty.

They grit their
teeth and bear it.

Margaret, poor
girl, just vomits.

Oh, God only knows
what's wrong with her.

This afternoon, I wanted
to turn her upside down

and shake her like a kid
what's swallowed a nail.

Then when the nail fell out,

she'd be all right again.

What's this, Charlie?

I don't know. Why?

A piece of wood, isn't it?

Yeah, I suppose so.

I just found it somewhere.

Not important.

Oh, well...

What the hell, eh?

One thing I do know, Charlie:

no matter what sort
of doctor we bring in,

Margaret's not
going to get better

unless she believes
you love her.

I see in the paper this morning

there's a cruise in
May... P and O line.

Sounds awfully good.

Calls at Sicily, Venice, Corfu.

Wouldn't that be the
most tremendous treat?

If you're fit enough by then.

Uh, Margaret, I...

I want you to see
another doctor.

Louisa knows of a nerve
specialist in London.

No.

Please, my dear.

This can't go on forever.

I won't be looked
at and questioned

and told what to do.

Besides, what do I want to
see a nerve specialist for?

Look at you!

What are you trying to do?!

You're like a little girl

spoiling her favorite
doll out of sheer spite.

Why are you doing it?

Oh, God. I don't know, Charles.

Help me.

You're like a little bird,

so frail and tiny.

Why won't you eat, my darling?

I don't know. I
can't explain it.

Even when I'm hungry,
the food disgusts me.

But I need you,
my dearest heart.

- I need you well.
- Yes.

I need you with me again.

Yes.

You must get better.

I will.

I will get better.

But, Charles...

..don't make me
see another doctor.

I'll get better.

VICAR: Oh, hoo hoo! What
an absolute beast of a day!

CHARLES: Well worth
a bit of a soaking, eh?

VICAR: It certainly
has, it certainly has.

The remarkable thing is,
in all my years of digging,

a blank day has been
virtually unheard of.

NANNY: Well, you both
catched your death of cold

out there today, I suppose.

I don't suppose you noticed it
till you were soaked through.

Oh, you're worse
than a couple of kids.

Don't be such a
silly old hen, Nanny.

Oh, Mrs. Trotter,

what news of our dear patient?

Is she to join us later?

Of course. She's much improved.

Oh, I'm so very glad.

VICAR: How can we celebrate
St. Valentine's day without her?

Oh, Louisa has been
working wonders, Alec.

Her cleverness knows no bounds.

LOUISA: Yeah, I may be clever,

but my cleverness
can't make head nor tail

of this little thing.

Don't go, Mrs. Ord.

Why, it's a witch stick.

Oh, might have guessed.
What's a witch stick?

It's quite harmless...

Just a piece of rowan tree.

But under the
proper circumstances,

it's supposed to be a
powerful charm against witches.

I should keep it if I were you.

And how did this bit of nonsense

come to be at the end
of Lady Haslemere's bed?

I put it there.

And who in hell is supposed
to be the witch around here?

Who or why, I don't ask...

But her ladyship's
been wasting away

for no reason a body
could understand,

and nobody's been doing
aught as made any difference

as far as I could see.

- This is a madhouse.
- No...!

Not mad.

It's possessed...

By spirits as won't go away.

And you — a man of the church —

not lifting a finger to
do your proper work!

I've never professed to be able
to lay spirits as you think I should.

Yes...but if I was to call
on one of the old wise men,

they woulda done some it.

There were a vast
more powerful conjurers

then you or churchmen!

And now they're all gone.

You're probably right, Nanny.

I know I'm right.

There's no one a body
can turn to for help now.

CHARLES: Sherry, Alec?

Ahh...

Empty your pockets out.
Come on. Empty them out.

Don't they feed you at home?

- Yes.
- Well, it don't look like it.

Don't tell, will you?

- No. Of course I won't tell.
- Honest?

Yeah. Cross me
heart, hope to die.

But if I find you in
here thieving again,

I'll give you the
hiding of your life.

What's this, then?

Hmm, getting those
at your age, are you?

No.

- Whose is it, then?
- It's...

Yeah?

It's his lordship, but
it's naught to do with me.

Oh, I see.

Put it on his desk, shall I?

Who you planning to
be when you grow up?

Here you are.

Off you go quick before
I change me mind.

I'm going to be the best
singer in England, missis.

I want to look especially
pretty this evening, Nanny.

NANNY: Yes, my pet.

But very, very pretty.

You look lovely, love.

You often say I look
pretty when it's not true...

Which is very kind, but it
makes you awfully unreliable.

Well, you certainly do look
very pretty today, madam.

The fact is, Nanny,

I want to look even
prettier than Mrs. Trotter.

Why, Mrs. Trotter is nothing

in comparison with you.

How absolutely gorgeous
to be downstairs again.

MAN: You must let
the little chap go, Lottie.

Why, dad?

Because he must find
himself a home and a mate.

- Then they'll have babies?
- That's right.

ELSIE: Mind that dish,
you great clumsy girl.

LOTTIE: Why's you
and mum so much older

than other people's
mums and dads?

We were older when
you were born. That's why,

- you daft lass.
- But why was you older?

We just was, that's all.

You took a long time coming.

Always was an awkward
little blighter, see.

Why hasn't Lord and Lady
Haslemere got no kids?

- That's the way of it, isn't it?
- Why?

Just is. That's why.

Is they taking a
long time coming?

- That's right.
- But where do the babies wait?

What do you mean, lass?

If they take a long time
coming, where do they wait?

With God in heaven.

Lottie, come on. Home time.

And remember,
first thing at morning,

you take that bird

and give it back
where you found it.

Yes, dad.

VICAR: ♪ They saw
me dance the Polka, ♪

♪ They saw me cover the ground,

♪ They saw my
coattails flying, ♪

♪ As I jumped my
partner round; ♪

♪ When the band
commences playing, ♪

♪ My feet begin to go, ♪

♪ For a rollicking
romping Polka, ♪

♪ Is the jolliest
dance I know. ♪

Ahhhh!

Hee hee hee!

♪ But now I'm old and shaky, ♪

♪ My back is bent, you see, ♪

♪ My limbs are rather quaky, ♪

♪ And scarcely bear with me. ♪

♪ I'm never asked to dances, ♪

♪ I'm placed upon the shelf, ♪

♪ But although I'm rheumatic, ♪

♪ Still as long
as I've an attic, ♪

♪ I'll dance it by myself, ♪

♪ You shall see me
dance the Polka, ♪

♪ See me cover the ground, ♪

♪ You shall see
my coattails flying, ♪

♪ As I hobble myself around. ♪

♪ If I hear an organ playing, ♪

♪ My feet begin to go, ♪

♪ For a rollicking
romping Polka, ♪

♪ Is the jolliest
dance I know. ♪

♪ For a rollicking
romping Polka... ♪

NANNY: Do be careful!

Won't do you no good, love.

No good at all.

Oh, don't fuss, Nanny.

What a stuffy old thing you are.

Oh, there's no doubt of it.

I've lost my real
vocation in life.

Yeah, well, if they
ever turn you out

of your present
comfortable position,

you come to me, I'll
find a place for you.

Oh, willingly.

My darling...

Don't you think you
ought to go up to bed now?

What's that?

Apparently, I have
a secret admirer.

Really?

It's the Richards' child.

She has a secret passion for me.

The Richards' child?

That little brat! Ha!

Is it really?

I think it's rather charming.

I think it's perfectly beastly.

The mother obviously
has no control of her.

She shouldn't be
allowed in the house.

Do you hear me?

I feel tired....

So tired.

I think I'll go to bed.

I'm so sorry.

Please forgive me.

Good night, Charles.

Good night, Margaret.

Overtired, I'm afraid.

Damn shame.

Nanny will take care of her.

VICAR: I must leave you.

Thank you so much for
your delightful hospitality.

I'm sure Lady Haslemere

will continue to improve.

LOUISA: Oh, yes,
yes. I'm sure she will.

VICAR: I'll, uh, I'll
just fetch my coat.

You know...

Oh, thank you.

When I first came here,

one of my parishioners
was much upset by

the loss of her witch stick.

"But, Mally," I said,

"Surely you don't
believe in witches."

Oh, she was most indignant.

"Not believe in witches?

"Well, there's 11 in the
village at this present time.

Nay, nay, it will not do to
be without me witch stick."

Oh, yes.

It was very common,
belief in witches.

And it's true to say
that the old wise men...

the conjurers, as
Nanny calls them...

had great powers.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Trotter.

You don't believe all
that rubbish, do you?

Well, unfortunately,
30 years in the church

has left me believing
everything and nothing.

Good night, Mrs. Trotter.
Good night, Charles.

Good night, Alec.

MARGARET: No, no,
Charles, you're quite wrong.

This is nowhere near the middle!

CHARLES: My dear young lady,

I've been rowing this
lake since I was a boy.

It has no mysteries.

Even the precise point of its
middle has been revealed to me.

CHARLES: Thank you. Good night.

I like your vicar fella.

Yeah. He's a delight.

Talks a lot of sense,
too, wouldn't you say?

Oh, you wouldn't half
have been shocked

in the old days.

CHARLES: Are you
suggesting that I was a silly,

superficial young man?

Yeah. In some ways, you was.

I'll tell you how much I'd like
to be that young man again.

Never look back, Charlie.

I've discovered
what a bad idea it is.

Oh, Charlie, I'm frightened.

What are you frightened of?

Oh, I don't know.

Oh, it's cold in here,

blooming dark and all.

Come on. Let's liven
the old place up a bit.

NANNY: Aah! Aah!

Her ladyship is not in her room!

She's nowhere to be found!

Oh, Mr. Charlie...

What do you mean,
she's nowhere to be found?

CHARLES: Calm down!

She probably felt restless!

She can't be outside!

CHARLES: Pickering!

CHARLES: Find her! Hurry!