The Paradise (2012–2013): Season 2, Episode 8 - Episode #2.8 - full transcript

Four yards of the blue silk.

CL?MENCE: Blue? Why blue?

From now on everything must be
scarlet and black.

Le rouge et le noir.

Mademoiselle Cl?mence.

But you're asking,
"Mais pourquoi le rouge et le noir? "

I answer,

"Because of the passion
that has taken Paris by storm

"and sweeps all before it."

Hazard! France is giddy
with infatuation.

We play to see what we will wear today,



who will we marry today?

What do you say, madame?
Will you hazard with me?

If you win, it is a blue.

If I win, you will try the scarlet.

Sam, you're my good luck.

Call a number between five and nine.

Seven.

Then I say I will cast a seven.

(CL?MENCE GASPS)

Quelle malchance!

Sam, we lose. Madam will take the blue.

But please, not four yards only.

Skirts will be very full next season.

You have it from the lips of Paris.



I'll take six yards.

Of the blue and the scarlet.

And where can I get those dice?

Cl?mence!

At The Paradise, madame.

Only at The Paradise.

Moray, mon cher.

Not that I'm not delighted to see you.
Why are you here?

Didn't you hear, darling?

I bring you the fever
that is sweeping all Paris.

You bring me dice that can be bought at
any French port for five sous apiece.

Where did you pick them up, Calais?

CL?MENCE: Paris was becoming
uncomfortable.

Oh, dear. That doesn't sound good.

It is true what they say.
Hell knows no fury like a woman scorned.

Her tantrums and tears
were insupportable.

I wanted a change of scene quickly.
Et voil?.

Cl?mence, you are incorrigible.

These, these are clever.

How many did you bring?

As many as I could fit into my valise.

I'll take them all.

Of course.

Now, tell me, how are all my friends?
How is Denise?

Yes, she's... She's very well.

She's... She's, uh...

head of Ladieswear.

Oh, no, John, what has happened?

You and Denise,
you were made for each other.

Well, she didn't think
that we could, uh...

(CLEARS THROAT) Actually, Cl?mence,
do you mind if we don't?

- (KNOCKING ON DOOR)
- Yes.

Please, Mr Moray, sir, Mr Dudley says
the customers are asking for dice

and we have none.

If this is one of your famous schemes,
he wishes you'd told him first.

Thank you, Arthur.
Tell Dudley I'm on my way.

Right.

I thought you brave to risk
The Paradise for love.

But to wear such a smile
when your heart is all desolation,

that is true courage.

Pauvre enfant.

I could almost love you myself.

- And you're sure it was her?
- Mmm, large as life and twice as French.

She's in with Mr Moray now
if you want to see her.

I have to get back.
I'm sure I'll find her later.

My feelings exactly.

Women, unfathomable.

She loves him. She won't go near him.

Whoop, you all right?

This place takes people
like that sometimes.

Let's get the weight off your feet.

Yeah.

All right. There.

Paradise.

It is paradise.

Not for everyone.

Not for everyone.

Cl?mence!

- I'm so happy to see you.
- And I, you, ch?rie.

But what is it I hear?

You and Moray,
breaking each other's hearts. Why?

We do not want the same thing.

He wants you, you want him.

Not in the same way.

I am his most prized possession.

You would be loved as you yourself love.

Yes.

But what if that is not possible?

Then...

I shall have to learn to live
with a broken heart.

It is her. It is!

Oh, we'll all go out again
like last time.

Just the girls, to The Three Crowns.

But without question.

We four, et la merveilleuse Myrtle.

But that is for later,
now I have a gift for Denise.

And not just for Denise,
for Ladieswear.

Whatever I tell them downstairs,

this is the true vogue in Paris today.

Rouge.

Only the very boldest dare wear it
but even those who dare not, buy it,

in case one day
they should find the courage.

But women who paint their faces
are not nice.

They work on the streets.

Exactement.

So when madame walks into a salon
with her face painted thus

and her head held high,

she's telling the world,
"I am who I say I am.

"Let no one else dare to define me."

It is a gauntlet thrown
at the feet of polite society.

This is not Paris.

But if there is anyone
who can sell Paris here,

it is you, Denise.

So these are not just a gift.

They are a challenge.

Your purchases will be waiting for you
at the parcels desk.

As to the hazard dice
you were enquiring after,

I believe they'll be with us
later today.

Hazard.

A few hours ago,
nobody's heard of the game. Now...

I suppose that's the thing
with a craze, eh?

Eh?

Arthur, Arthur.

Arthur, find Mr Moray
and tell him to come

and tell him to come now.

But I'm helping Mademoiselle Cl?mence
with her dice.

The dice can wait. This cannot.

KATHERINE: You were up early
this morning.

I was woken by a caller.

A caller?

On a false errand.

The person he sought does not live here.

But by happy accident, I was able
to do some business with him myself.

Is that damson jelly?

Perfect.

Is that why you're in such a jolly mood?

Sometimes, Flora, life seems
full of possibility and promise.

Apparently, Mademoiselle Romanie
has returned to The Paradise.

Cl?mence?

I thought her in France.

An impromptu visit, I believe.

I shall make sure to give her your best.

(SIGHS) Who is he?

I don't know.

He looked tired so I offered him a seat
and next thing I know he's...

What is it?

ARTHUR: He's a sailor.
MORAY: Yes.

Not an English one. That's French.

And this is French tailoring. The best.

Did he sound foreign?

I only heard him say three words.

Mr Moray, sir.

A French sailor
with a taste for fine tailoring

and the annual salary of
a working man in his pocket.

TOM: Quite a mystery.

- Uh, Mr Weston...
- Dudley told me.

I met him this morning.
He came to the hall.

He'd been misdirected.

Uh, who is he?

He didn't give a name.

Imagine a small group of customers,
hand-picked.

Women who feel they can lead fashion
rather than be led by it.

Mmm-hmm.

Now imagine a corner of Ladieswear
dressed as a boudoir.

DENISE: The woman who inhabits it
has just stepped out

and may return at any moment.

Her scent lingers in the air.

On the dressing table,
a bottle of perfume.

We imagine her dabbing it on her wrists.

Her neck.

There's an evening stole, a fan.

A dance card.

And in the middle,
a beautiful pot of rouge.

Beside it, a woman's necklace
carelessly cast aside,

tangled and tumbled
with a man's cufflinks.

Denise?

May I be excused
to get a glass of cold water? I'm...

I'm feeling awfully strange.

Glass of cold water?
Cold bath more like.

If that doesn't sell it, nothing will.

The parish will take him and bury him.

Because his identity is not known,

he must be in an unmarked grave.

That's a pauper's burial,
that man had money.

An unmarked grave in an unknown land.

I would not wish so solitary an end
on anyone.

Mademoiselle Cl?mence.

If he's recently come from France,

she may have encountered him
on her journey,

she may even have met him.

Though, perhaps, it's not proper to show
a woman a deceased person.

Oh, I feel sure Mademoiselle Cl?mence
will be equal to the task.

Don't you, Moray?

Non. I've never seen him before.
I'm sorry.

MORAY: Not at all, Cl?mence.

(CLEARS THROAT)

We appreciate your trying.

DUDLEY: We could use his money
to buy a plot and pay for a burial.

Headstone can come later
if his identity is ever learned.

Find somewhere to put him
until arrangements can be made.

Moray can't be expected
to share his office with a corpse.

I love the river when it is like this.

Don't you?

All deep

and still and quiet.

As if it were asleep.

Mrs Weston, have a care, you might slip.

The ground is dangerous here.

I don't know what happened.
I was feeling faint and the water...

I am very grateful to you.

I have walked by that river many times
when my thoughts have been turbulent.

I walked there this morning
for that reason.

I fear I have nothing.

Everything I had, I cast away.
It is lost.

You have the child.

I have her on sufferance only.

He can take her from me.

He will take her from me.

I have destroyed everything
I set out to protect.

And hurt those that I sought to shield.

I have become the harm I feared.

And yet today you were my salvation.

Then there is hope for both of us.

My husband was a soldier.

He has suffered as other men have not.

He has wounds.

Terrible wounds.
His back laid open by swords.

And he bears this pain alone.

In secret.

I thought once to be his comfort.

You make me believe
such a thing could yet be possible.

(DOOR OPENS)

Mama, will you come?

- I've made a daisy chain.
- Of course, my darling.

(SIGHS)

Only, my dear, I do feel so strange.

Have you that grown-up
sickness again, Mama?

It is so long since you had it last.
Weeks and weeks.

Miss Cl?mence said we would all go
to The Three Crowns again.

She asked for you by name.

- She never did.
- Marvellous Myrtle, she called you.

At least I think that's what she said.

Well, if that is not cause
to crack out a party dress,

I don't know what is.

SAM: For a girls' night out in
The Three Crowns? Who's going to care?

Excuse me, the girls will care.

Perhaps I shall take the opportunity
to christen my new bustier.

God help us all.

Denise?

I know you don't sleep
but if you don't eat either,

you're not going to last long enough
to start selling that rouge.

I've had an idea
about our French friend.

Edmund Lovett's shop.

We... We cannot put a corpse in
a man's shop without his knowledge.

Denise has the keys and the authority
to act for her uncle.

Perhaps if you were to talk to her.

- No, Dudley.
- Explain the situation.

She will help, I'm sure of it.

The powder is so light,

it requires the softest touch.

A dusting on the lips.

And on the cheeks.

Like the flush of love.

Or the first time you looked in a glass

and knew you were beautiful.

The effect is lovely.

But it is impossible. A painted face?

My husband would never allow it.

Perhaps your husband would not know,

if he thinks such preparations
gaudy and brash.

But this is sweet

and delicate

and gentle.

Like a kiss on your skin.

Denise.

I'm sorry to interrupt.

It makes no difference,
they weren't going to buy.

How can I help?

I have a favour to ask
concerning your uncle's shop.

We do not know his name
or who his people might be.

But I wish for him to be buried

with the care and consideration
I would give a friend,

but until arrangements can be made,

he needs a place to rest.

My uncle's keys are inside.

(DRAWER OPENS)

You could have come in.

(SIGHS) Thank you.

We should at least try to find a way
of being normal with each other.

(SIGHS)

Denise, I, um...

It is hard for me even
to be near you at the moment.

But to be in the same room,

be so close
and not be able to touch you, it's...

I will learn,
I'm sure I will learn, just...

not yet.

Jonas. I was looking for you today.
You were not to be found.

I'm sorry, sir.
I will not be from my station again.

Moray. I hear we have a hit.

- Dice.
- Yes, yes, we've already sold out.

- There's a waiting list.
- Mmm-hmm. A fad.

It will be over before it has begun.

But the gain to our reputation
will remain.

People are saying, "If you want to know
what London will be doing tomorrow,

"look in The Paradise today."

Mmm, very neat.

Perhaps you should have that
engraved on a plaque.

I was thinking perhaps a tattoo.

There she is.

CL?MENCE: Myrtle. Don't tell me.

New bustier.

You look magnificent.

You see? Women dress for other women
because other women notice.

MYRTLE: Oh, we shall have
a night of it tonight.

It's women only, lads. It is women only.

Small mercies.

Unless you prefer
an evening with the gentlemen.

I see one of them at least
has his eye on you.

This is what I give
for an evening with a gentleman.

(CLEMENCE SPEAKING FRENCH)

Oh, I don't know what she's saying,
but I like the way she says it.

So what is it to be?

The Three Crowns
and perhaps a little dinner?

A little dancing?

Mademoiselle Romanie.

I wonder, might I beg
the favour of a word?

It is delightful to see you back.

CL?MENCE: Oh, I'm delighted to be back.

And delighted, I'm sure, to have escaped
all that unpleasantness in Paris.

An acquaintance of yours
called at the hall this morning

under the mistaken impression
that he would find you with us.

I had to disappoint him.
But we got talking.

Now, he said he was...

Oh, what was the word used?

Ah, yes.

A sangsue. A bloodsucker.

Though I believe "debt collector"
is the more common term.

What do you want?

Oh, I already have what I want.

My debts? He sold them to you?

I'm only sorry he never got to enjoy
his ill-gotten gains.

What will you do with them?

Well, I thought
we might discuss that over dinner.

Of course, you will have to tell your...

friends that you're now unavailable.

Tomorrow, please.

But I am hungry now.

I am sorry.
I had forgotten a prior engagement.

See, a bad mood of this magnitude,
I'd normally say too much drink

but seeing as your evening
was cancelled...

Four lasses stood up by the same person
at the same time.

You got to hand it to the French.

- Stop it, Sam.
- MYRTLE: Oh, let him.

It's true, isn't it?
She made fools of all of us.

"That for an evening with a man."
My arse!

I didn't like her anyway.

I think women should be more modest.

We don't know why Cl?mence
did what she did.

I don't think she looked
very happy about it.

(SCOFFS) She can look after herself,
that one, trust me.

Knows exactly what side
her bloody brioche is buttered.

And get that bloody French dice
out of my refectory!

KATHERINE: I was wondering
what your plans were for this evening?

I'm dining out.

What a shame.

It has been so long
since we dined together.

Too long.

Do you remember
when we were first married?

How you would send the servants away
in the evening.

You would sit by me and pour my wine.

I do.

I do remember.

You were so tender.

Yet so...withheld.

I thought I had a lifetime
to fathom the secrets in your eyes.

But then we came here.

And I learned the secret had a name.

Moray.

And little by little, I watched

as his nearness
turned your tenderness to anguish.

I don't doubt you've endured
the destruction of your dreams.

We have that in common at least.

But do not,
do not insult the hopes I once cherished

by trying now to resurrect
what you so thoroughly laid to waste.

I have found someone else to comfort me.

I no longer need you.

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

If only it weren't so red.

I think you'll find the clue
is in the name.

We're just going to have to admit defeat
on this one, Denise.

DENISE: Oh, but it's gorgeous.

Feels like silk when you brush it on.

It even smells divine.

What's that?

Mmm, otto of roses.

How do you know it's otto of roses?

Otto of roses, white starch,
bit of carmine for the colour.

I'm a cook.

I know what goes in most things
by smelling them.

My mother, now,
she had a nose like bloodhound.

Made her own preparations, too.

She had a cream
would turn your skin to satin.

Face like an old boot, God rest her.

But to touch, oh,
you have never known anything so soft.

And do you know
what she put in these creams?

I know what she put in,
just don't know how much.

Kept her quantities close to her chest.

Myrtle, how do feel about a little
after-hours experimenting?

I've spoken to the undertaker.

The body will be moved to Edmund's shop

and lie there until
the burial takes place tomorrow.

- You should inform Denise.
- What?

Why?

Because it's her uncle's shop.

Because she gave us the keys.

Because if the two of you
could only talk to each other...

Dudley, I know
you mean it as a kindness

but you're always putting us
in each other's paths.

It is a torment.

I can't just stand by
and watch you suffer.

It'll get easier. It is getting easier.

I can feel it.

You need the water hot if you want
the spermaceti to melt this time.

It's already burning my hands.

Beauty comes at a price.

Now, the rose water and the oils.

MYRTLE: Slowly.

Oh, and to think that
I could be at the pub.

Stop. Now into the cold water.

- Perfect.
- Not quite.

MYRTLE: What are you doing?
DENISE: The scent of roses

and the faintest hint

of a blush.

Myrtle.

You are beautiful.

- Oh, you...
- No, I know, I know.

And before you say it,
I deserve every word.

But what if I told you
that tomorrow night

is my very last night of freedom?

And that I have come to ask you all
to spend it with me?

What are you talking about?

I was not honest with Moray
about my reasons for leaving France.

There were debts.

Prison if I could not pay
and I could not.

So I ran, but someone came after me.

I don't blame him, he was doing his job.

He sold my debts to Tom Weston.
And now Weston gives me a choice.

Become his mistress or face prison.

Oh, no, please. I don't want your pity.

I want your company.

Tomorrow night at The Three Crowns,
won't you come and drink with me?

I bloody will.
I bloody need a bloody drink after that.

His last night above ground,
I didn't think he should spend it alone.

Death raises questions about life,

about purpose.

(SCOFFS) If we're going to talk
about life, death and purpose,

I'm going to need another drink.

Luckily, I know where
Edmund keeps his brandy.

Saw the light.

Oh! Welcome to the party.

Uh, it is a vigil.

With refreshments.

But it's wrong, it's so wrong.

Yes, it is wrong.

But if you play with fire, and I do,
sometimes you will get burnt.

So what should I do? Curse the fire?
Curse myself?

Or hold on to the things
that make life worth living?

Liberty, friendship, love?

I'll raise a glass to that.

Enough of my story.

Tell it to your daughters
to scare them into obedience.

I want to know what potion
the three of you

were brewing like witches last night?

Mrytle's mother's cream,

which Denise has tinted with your rouge.

- Ah!
- A secret between you and your skin.

CL?MENCE: Oh!

I could take this to any shop
in any city in the world

and by tomorrow, there would be
queues in the street.

You are a genius.

No, I mean it! You are a genius.

But not in love.

Why, with all your flair
and passion and elan,

why cannot you and him
find the way to be together?

Cl?mence, please.

- Please don't make it any harder.
- I'm sorry, ch?rie.

It is just that I must believe in love,
now more than ever.

I must believe that
Tom Weston's way is not the only way

and that love, real love, can triumph.

I shall have to speak to Edmund
about the quality of his brandy.

I am carrying quite a head this morning.

At least he was not alone.

See, I don't know why
you think this man's death

was such a sad and solitary affair.

If I had to venture an opinion,
I'd say he died happy.

"It is paradise."

When he looked about,
that's what he said.

Perhaps he could already
see something you couldn't.

Or perhaps he was exactly
where he wanted to be.

Just happy.

What will it take to be so fulfilled?

Every man has to decide for himself
what is it that makes life worth living.

And if a man loses the things that makes
his life worth living, what then?

That would depend on the man.

(SIGHS)

I have lost The Paradise.

I've lost Denise.

I've not been able
to win either of them back.

I thought that this would grow easier

but every day the pain gets worse.

Moray, I have never been
the one with the answers.

Dudley...

I am...

Iost.

I'm asking you,
you're my closest friend,

what would you have me do?

Very well.

I would not have you as you are now,
as you have been these past weeks.

Resigned, accepting, defeated.

I would have you fight.

- Fight on.
- With what? I have nothing.

You have everything you started with.

(SCOFFS) Dudley, that was nothing.

Exactly.

Come on, time to go home.

- Come on.
- No, please.

Please stay.
It is so mournful to drink alone.

- We're not leaving you.
- You're coming with us.

I am? Oh...

Perhaps Papa learned
that we were having fish

and that is why he stayed away.
It is his least favourite, you know.

Then someone should have told him
there is syllabub for dessert.

Everyone loves syllabub.

Please remove Mr Weston's place setting.

Oh!

Tell me the truth, am I drunk?

Just a little.

But I have agreed to meet Tom Weston,

I have to give him my answer.

CLARA: You have to lie down first.

We can't let this happen, Clara.
We can't.

There's such an ache of loneliness
about Tom Weston, Denise.

It could break your heart.

Look, what he's doing is wrong.

But God knows there's been times
when I'd have done whatever I could

to feel someone's arms around me
and know I wasn't alone.

Something in him is broken.

I don't know what it is, but be careful.

Jonas, I... I couldn't sleep.

Nor I. So many comings and goings.

- How is Mademoiselle Romanie?
- She's...

She's in trouble.

Mr Weston has acquired letters
of promise that she is unable to honour.

And he is using them to coerce her
into...an arrangement.

And you would seek to help her?

I can't stand by and watch.

- Then I will come with you.
- No, Jonas.

I'm truly grateful but what Mr Weston
would see as a plea coming from a woman

he would see as a challenge
coming from a man.

Then you must go armed.

Tom Weston has a secret.

The pain of it and the shame
of it are what drives him.

- It will also be the undoing of him.
- I don't understand.

He was a young Officer
in the Indian Mutiny.

The city of Delhi was besieged,
many men died.

Tom Weston survived a hero.

But he had secret wounds.

Sword cuts to his back,

as if he had tried to run
and was set upon by one of his own.

- You can't know that.
- I know men.

Tom Weston is a man in torment.

He is a man who met himself
one terrible day

and despises the coward
he found himself to be.

Do you understand, Denise?

That is why he looks
for comfort, for escape.

To lose himself within another.

Because the pain of who he is
is so unendurable to him.

I want you to use this
knowledge as a weapon against him.

You must use it as you will.

Denise.

You're waiting for Mademoiselle Romanie.

She's at The Paradise, indisposed.

I'm her messenger.

Has she reached a decision?

She accepts your proposal.

But I wish you would reconsider.
There are some feelings

which are so unendurable we would
do anything to escape them.

But we cannot, we can only
distract ourselves for a while.

If I could buy my way out of
the ache in my heart, I would.

But some things cannot be bought.

And to try to buy that
which can only be given freely

would be a comfortless thing.

Did Mademoiselle Romanie
send you here to negotiate with me?

No. I act for myself.

You're a daring strategist
for a shop girl.

And you're a good businessman
for a soldier.

A woman's life for a few debts?
That's a hard bargain.

(LAUGHING)

- Sir!
- (GROANING)

Mr Weston? Sir!

(GASPS) I'm sorry.

I have wounds.

Old wounds.

From India?

What do you know of India?

Nothing, I...

You cannot spend a lifetime
punishing yourself

for a moment's lapse driven by fear.

But don't you see? Nor can you escape
it by punishing another.

You dare to tell me
what can and cannot be?

You dare presume to know me?

You tell Mademoiselle Romanie
to be ready.

You tell her I am coming for her.

Mr Weston?

Jonas.

Turn back, sir. Go home to your family.

No one will ever know what passed here.

- You came here with Denise?
- I did.

Though she did not know it.

You. It was you who told her.

(LAUGHING)

How long did it take you
to piece my story together,

watching from the shadows,
listening at doors?

You spoke to me as a friend.

You let me believe you were my man!

I serve The Paradise.

I am The Paradise!

No, sir, you are not.

And I will not allow you to avenge
yourself on those who are.

Get out of my way.

Get out of my way!

Cl?mence. Cl?mence.

Susy, shh... Go back to bed.

- But...
- Shh.

- My luggage?
- We collected it from the hotel.

I don't understand.

There's enough in there for a train
to the port and a ticket on the boat.

France means prison. I can't go back.

The boat to America.

Money... This is your money.

- I can't take it.
- You can and you will.

I went to Tom Weston.

I tried to make things better
and I made them so much worse.

But he will know I had help,
he will know who helped me.

There are other places to work.

I'm not sure we could carry on anyway,
knowing what he was doing to you.

Knowing that he was doing what to her?

(FLORA SOBBING)

Flora, my darling, what is it?

- Was it a bad dream?
- It is not a dream!

Papa will send you away,

he will send you away
and I will be alone.

Flora, listen to me.

We belong to each other now,
do you understand?

All of us, we belong to each
other and we will be together.

- Come.
- What are we doing?

Are you brave enough to venture
out into such black night?

I'm never scared with you.

That is because you make me brave.

And when you are with me, there is
no one in the world stronger than I am.

There!

DENISE: He's coming for her. If she's
going to get away, she has to go now.

CLARA: You can say you saw nothing, sir.

- DENISE: Please, John.
- He cannot do this.

He cannot own you. You're not...

You're not his possession.

Mademoiselle Romanie.

Denise. Clara.

She didn't know.

The noise woke her,
she tried to stop us.

Go, Clara.

You should have reined her in
while you had the chance, Moray.

Your creature, your little champion.

She is not my anything.

She is her own, as is Cl?mence.

Oh, no, Mademoiselle Romanie
is bought and paid for.

Her debts are bought and paid for.

Give me 24 hours. I'll find the money,
I'll buy them back.

They are not for sale.

Then, I'll play you for them.

Hazard.

You would need a stake
and you have nothing that I want.

You want me gone.

If I win, you will return
Cl?mence's debts to her.

If you win, I go.

- Where?
- Away.

Away from The Paradise,
this city, the country.

- No!
- Moray...

- You will not return?
- I will not return.

MORAY: You have my word.

Very well.

But let us dispense
with the notion that this is a game.

One throw each.

Highest roll wins.

Cl?mence.

Merci.

Your past is none of my affair.

But your actions today,

they were the work of a true coward.

Wait.

I will play you again.

I will play you for The Paradise.

Department by department.

And my stake?

Oh, the same every time. Your exile.

Or are you too much
the coward to risk so much?

John, please don't.

This is not brave, this is insane.

You'd have to win every throw.
Every throw...

Denise, I had The Paradise, I had you,

I've lost them both.

Don't you see?
I have nothing more to lose.

The Great Hall.

The Great Hall.

I've come for my husband.

He's inside with Moray.
They're playing dice, for The Paradise.

Two in a row.

But your luck will not hold.

It cannot.

You have lost half your shop.

Would you really rather
bring down your own world

than see him prosper just a little?

Your cast.

TOM: Get out! Throw!

- Not before the child.
- Throw!

Not before the child.

Flora, go with Denise.

Miss Flora, have you ever
seen The Paradise at nighttime?

I did once have a dream of Moray.

But I promise you, that dream is dead.

I am free of it.

There was a kindness between us once.

Could we not look for it again?

That dream is also dead.

Then we must make a new dream.

For Flora's sake.

And the sake of the child
that is coming.

Come home.

I will send away the servants
and I will sit beside you.

And we will talk.

Let me be your comfort now.

It is like a secret world.

If I lived here,
I would wander around all night.

- Do you?
- I used to.

I thought you would lose.

I thought I would lose you.

What would you have done?

Followed.

To hear you say those things
and know that you meant them,

you don't know
how much I've longed for that.

You are my equal and more.

I look at you now and I see myself.

That is how I know
you will never be content

in my shadow.

It is not my Paradise you need,

it is your own.

No, I want you.

I want to work with you
and grow with you...

It's yours. Everything I won from Weston

I give you gladly, freely,
with all my heart.

Yours.

Sweetheart, don't you see?

You will never be happy.

You will never be happy with me

until you've built something
that is yours

and yours alone.

But to do that I'd have to go.

- I'd have to leave you.
- Yes, you would.

You will.

I would rather see you walk away

than keep you beside me,

only to watch the light
go out of your eyes.

(SIGHS)

I love you too much.

MORAY: Jonas.

Is it over, sir?

Yes, it's... It's over.

Arthur! I need you to deliver this
and bring the answer as fast as you can.

- Can you do that?
- Yes.

Clara, take charge.

My uncle's shop.

But not as a drapery any more,
as a beauty emporium.

With creams for the complexion

and oils and powders and scented balms.

Mr Ballantine has agreed
to invest in me.

He will be my backer.

And I will be here. I will be here.

- And when I've made my name...
- Not your fortune.

Both.

I will come to you

and ask you most humbly

if you will do me the honour
of becoming my husband.

- Will you say yes?
- Yes.

- Do you promise?
- Yes.

Yes.