Upstairs, Downstairs (1971–1975): Season 1, Episode 2 - The Mistress and the Maids - full transcript

[ Mr. Scone ] Good.

So.

Now, if...If you would stand
over here again,

and put the famous
chair in the fireplace.

Yes.
And drape to the cloth.

as it won't pinch you.
or, uh, more languorous.

Hmm?

- And?
- Oh, yes. Oh, yes.

Question of getting
the right pose, you see.

And making these quick
sketches to brood on.

- Then, having selected the one,
getting it down with the passion.



- [ Ralph Bellamy ] Quite.

I've no time for Sergeant?s method of
painting a face a dozen different ways

and then cutting back
to the first one.

- Isn't the ear of the
jaw line a little angular?

- Well, huh, ha, I see what you're getting at.
It...it's very strong of course.

No, I don't want you drawn soft
to flatter him, Lady Marjorie.

Well, I see you as a woman
of personality, decision.

Strong loyalty, even.
- Ha.

- You're entitled to your
opinion, Scone. - Huh, huh, huh.

Shall we turn him out?

Husbands with great trials, mind you.

They look on their
wives as possessions

and the portrait
as a kind of display case.

- [ MB ] And wives, Mr. Scone?
- Huh, huh.



They don't ever see.

Besides, they like their husbands
to appear strong men of the world.

Which is much easier
to comply with.

I mean if I...I saw
your husband as a...a lily,

and wanted to paint
him like that,

what you say, huh?

- [ RB ] Send for the
police, I should think.

- Ha, ha, ha.

- I just got back...
Could you turn this way for me.

- I've come back from Paris.

- Where there's an exhibition
of Sebastian, French painting,

which you really must try and see
next time you're over there.

- And what shall I see,
Mr. Scone?

Life and color as you've
never seen before.

- I sent my cousin,
young John Strack Ken,

- over to buy a Degas
for that drafty seat

- of those in Perkshire.

- But the fool brought one of
those Renoir's lush pieces.

- He said the
Dowager wouldn't have a

- servant hanging in
the drawing room. Huh.

- [ RB ] That old Lady Abercraven?

- Yes, my own sainted aunt.

Uh, head this way a little.

- You'll be going up to
Abercraven for the twelfth?

- My dear Bellamy,
since I ran a...I'm sorry.

Since I ran away to Paris
to become a disreputable painter

I've managed, thank God, to see
as little of my family as I wish.

Aw, uh.

- Besides, the destruction of small
birds doesn't really interest me.

- Yes.

- [ Sighs ] Now...

- How shall we close
the portrait, huh?

Would you like me...
- My dear Lady Marjorie.

- An artist and a woman
would never agree

- on such a delicate matter.

- Besides, an artists vision is quite
different from that of a lady of fashion.

- Uh, will you join me in an
honorable compromise?

The two words rarely go together,
Mr. Scone, at least not in politics.

- Huh.
- And so?

- So, if you would select one or two
of your most favored dresses

and have them sent around to me
to examine for texture.

Something light and frothy, perhaps,
but leave the final decision to me.

- Certainly.
- There.

Wouldn't you call that
an honorable compromise?

Giving us both the...
freedom of decision

yet without the indignity
of a battle.

- Yes, I don't think I'd like
to fight with you, Mr. Scone.

- At least not yet.

Well, as much as I'm enjoying the
carefree atmosphere

of the artist's studio, I'm afraid
that affairs of state beckon.

I'm due at the Admiralty in,
uh...oh, goodness half an hour.

And the First Sea Lord
dislikes unpunctuality.

In fact I require your
wife's patience no longer.

The sketches are done

- [ RB ] Oh, good,
then you'll begin the paintings?

Tomorrow afternoon.

Capital. Ah, Mr. Scone, I'm sure you'll
produce something quite outstanding.

With such a charming subject,
how could I fail?

Hudson, will you call a hansom?
Mr. Scone is leaving. - Very good.

Uh, no, not for me, thank you.

I'll, uh, walk back to my studio
across the park.

Till tomorrow, then, and, you uh,
you won't forget the dresses?

- They'll shall be sent out
this afternoon,

and I'll expect you here
tomorrow at three o'clock?

My lady.
Lady Marjorie and Mr. Bellamy.

- Well? - Well, I hope you've
chosen the right man.

- He'll be an exciting painter, Richard.

That I don't doubt, but is
it necessary for a painter

to talk quite so much?

I found his conversation very
interesting and stimulating.

Rather you than me.
I don't have to listen him all day.

Well, I must go.
Now, uh...

dinner at 8:30, I believe
and a white waistcoat?

Uh huh, you won't be late,
will you, the Sethels are coming.

I will not be late.
And if that talkative fellow

does not do justice to my
wife's beauty I shall...

What shall you do?
[ Kiss ]

I shall hang him

- next to one of his
own portraits. - Huh.

[ Knock on door ]
Entr?e

[ Knock on door ]

Come in, damn you.

What the devil.

He said to bring
these on up, sir.

He?

The tall chap downstairs.

My servant, my servant.

Why didn't he bring
them up himself?

What are they, anyway?

- Lady Marjorie Bellamy's dresses, sir.
- Oh.

Will that be all, sir?

What's your name?

Sarah,...sir.

You can drop
the "sir" with me.

You don't like
saying it, anyway.

How do you know
what I don't like saying?

Hold that. I want you
to show me these dresses.

Hold out. Come on.

Hold it up. Hold it up.

Dyesh!
Looks like a dust sheet.

Next.

Ah, the simple milkmaid.
I might have known

there'd be one of those.
Huh.

It never works over 41,
and they never learn.

- Ohh, come off it! She never
suppose you're lookin' for her age.

But a tyrant underneath,
are they, uh?

I don't think you
ought to ask me that.

What about the butler?

- Is he with you?
- Pooh, I'd like to see him try.

- Ha, ha.

Now.
But you're afraid of him.

I'm not afraid of no one.

When he's a little bad to me
he gives us a hour shop every week

much more than most.

When's yours?

Wednesdays.

What do they pay you?

Mind your own business.

Ten pounds a year and
a bed in the basement.

Noo, old clever, it is
twice that much

and a room in the attic.

And Rose gets thirty.

Whose Rose?

She's my friend.

We've got this lovely
room up top together.

And when we get
a bit of money together

we're going up in a
boarding house in Brighton.

No! Next.

Uh, you'd better fancy this one.

- Yes, put it on. Put it on.
- Because it's the last.

- My word.

- Eh, come over here.
Come over here.

Ah.

Now, look.

Will you bury all that beauty
in a boarding house in Brighton?

- Hmm.
I want to thank you, Brighton.

- Bowls at the pavilion,
and a gentleman to hand me

- after my bathing machine
into the water.

- And perhaps a drive along
the front in a motor car.

Hmm.

He's talking a now they
let you girls read.

Huh. He's never
been to Brighton.

- Aw. Me thoughts are
all the same.

- You've seen one,
you've seen 'em all.

Yes, that's the one.

- Pardon?

That's the one.

Tell your mistress, that's
the one I want her to wear.

Now, put them all back
in the box and off you go.

- I've been to South End.

- Rose!

- Rose.
- Where have you been?

-You've only got
five minutes to change.

- Time to set drawing room two.
- Rose, I've got a letter.

- Look, it says by hand.

I managed to read
that much myself.

You'll have to do the rest.

- You try.
- You know I can't.

You can if you persevere.

Oh, Rose, it's not like print.

Real write is different
with all them squiggles.

It's too hard for me.
Please, Rose.

If you don't hurry up,
you'll be late downstairs.

Where'd you get it then?

Rose, I was coming down
the (idean) steps,

and...this chap
handed it to me.

- What sort of chap?

Oh, nobody special,
just ordinary looking.

And he gave it to you,
just like that?

Yes, just like that.

Well, don't you believe me?

But, go on open it, maybe
it'll show who it's from.

What's it say?

If this is one of your games.

Who'd you get
to write if for you, then?

Same person as wrote your
French reference, I suppose.

Well, you may have fooled
Lady Marjorie and the agency,

but you can't fool me.

Rose, honest to God
and cut me throat

if I tell a lie.

'Divine Sarah', Divine Sarah!
'There will be a cab waiting for you

'at the end of your street
on the corner of the square

'on Wednesday at seven.

'The cabbie will
bring you to me.

'Ask no questions.'

- Who's it from!

It's signed, 'An admirer.'

- Where?
- There!

Ad-mirer.

- You expect me
to believe that?

Well, why shouldn't
I have an admirer.

- Who is he, then?
- Oh, um, probably someone

- who's seen me around
in the park or something.

- Oh, now does he
know your name?

- "Divine Sarah."

- Sarah Bernhardt.
She's an actress, French woman.

- He's laughing at you.

- He shouldn't even laugh
real easily

- Oh, I won't sleep tonight.
I wonder who it's gonna'

- turn out to be.

- You're not going.
- Why not!

- Gentlemen don't make
assignations with house maids

- for the charm of
their conversation, you know.

- Assignations!
Oh, that sounds very romantic.

Not so romantic when
you're turned off in disgrace

- and the father won't marry you.
- Oh.

- They never do, you know.

- When it's all over
you're thrown in the corner

- like a rag doll
the moths have been at.

- Sometimes girls don't
come back at all.

- They end up on a slab
in a morgue.

- Don't, you make me
feel all funny.

- How can you bear
anyone pulling you about?

- Aw, it's only you
says he will.

- If he's a gentleman...
- If he's a gentleman

- he'll pull you about.

- Sarah, don't go.

- Don't worry, Rose,
I'm ever so strong.

- If'n he gets you tipsy?

- Yeah, that's right, I'm bubbly.

Very refreshing, I must say.

What's that bed doing there?
It wasn't there before.

- For models...posing.

- Sometimes I use it myself.

I'll bet.

Um,...what was this
proposition that you

wanted to talk to me about?

I only take propositions
from gentlemen, mind.

- How do you know
I'm not a gentleman?

Cause you're a painter!

- Hah, cousin to an earl.

Ooh, and I'm (bobbing) away.

- It's true!
- Prove it!

I'm not going to
parade my family tree

for your inspection.
Ha, ha.

Well, go on. Off you go.
Finish your champagne.

Back home to Rose.

Isn't it a little bit late
for you to be out? Hmm?

Of course you won't
have much to tell,

but I'm sure you'll make up
something as you go along.

Look...is your cousin
really an earl?

[ Wink ]

[ Sip ]

Um...Rose said that if you
turned out to be a gent,

I wasn't to trust you.

Rose is a very wise girl.

Rose says this Sarah...
what's her name?

- Bernhardt.
- Yes.

Uh, is a French actress.

The "Divine Sarah."

I thought you wouldn't
be able to resist that.

Sarah Bernhardt!

The greatest actress
in the world.

Umm. A consummate artist.
[ A toast ]

- Are you a consummate artist?

- Of course. - Well you look
healthy enough to me.

Ha, ha.
[ Sighs ]

- What's your Christian name?

I never use it.

Everybody calls me Scone.

Scone?

Scone is for tea.
Buttered please.

Yes.

- Now, let's get down to my
proposition, shall we?

All right, what is it?

- I want to paint you.

- Paint me!
- Uh, huh.

- You mean like Lady Marjorie?
- That's right.

Why?

Your face.

It interests me.

- My face?
- Uh, huh.

Uh, would I be
hung up on the wall

for everybody to look at?

- If I paint you
well enough, yes.

I can't pay you nothing.

It won't cost you
a farthing.

Oh, you'll have to come
on your afternoons off.

All right.

Good.

We'll start.

At once.

- Right now?

Right now,
at once.

- Now, get into that bed.
- Aw, come on you...

- Take your hat off.
- Stop it!

- Put your hair down.
- Leave me..

- Take your blouse off.
- Oh!

- That's it.
- No!

- Now, into bed.
- Don't touch me!

- Into bed.
- Lady Marjorie never

- takes her clothes off.

There you are!

That's how
I want to paint you.

Your pale face
against the shadows.

Now, my divine Sarah

all you have to do
is to keep very still.

Um.

Here...
- Be still!

[ Bedroom door opens ]

- I thought you'd be asleep.
[ Door closes ]

You told me to wait up.

- You'll be ever so tired
in the morning.

- What'cha reading?

The Dark in the Eagles Nest.

- Not the Bible?

It's by Charlotte M. Young.

- Do you have a
(company) novelette?

Um, my friend said
that all servant girls

read (company) novelettes.

But, aren't you gonna
ask me what happened?

If you like.

Yes, but half the fun is
telling you, Rose. See?

- Is it?
- Oh, we've done nothing wicked.

Come here.

Breathe.

[ Blowing breath ]

You've been drinking,
haven't you?

Champagne!

It's not a drink.
It's a nectar.

The nectar of the gods.
The milk of Bacchus.

Shh, you'll wake Alfred.

Aw, never mind Alfred.

Well, how you gonna (work the
new ruf) and it turned out to be.

Go on, ask me.

All right, who did
your friend turn out to be?

- Scone!
- Who?

Scone, the gentleman who's
painting Lady Marjorie.

He's gonna paint me in oil.
He thinks I'm beautiful.

Ho, ho, ho. Paint you!

He wanted the (offer),
but I was firm.

We know how artists are.
But, he still wants to set me up

in a little flat of my own.

But if that's what he wants,
why does he bother painting you?

Aw, Rose, you see,
he's been in Paris all this while,

but really artist's have their
mistresses is smuggled,

and they go on painting
until they become famous.

I told him all about you and
how we share this room together.

Going there every Wednesday
when I get them up

and on Sundays, too.

But what for?

To sit for him,
like Lady Marjorie does

when he paints her.

Incidentally, he's ever so rich
and a cousin to an earl.

He thinks I'm beautiful.
Isn't that a lark?

Now, you listen
to me, Sarah.

He'll dangle his money and
his position in front of you

till you can't
hold out no more.

The painting's just an excuse
to keep going there

while he works on you.

Can't you see that?

Look, Rose, what else
have I got to do?

It isn't as if you and me
have the same night off.

I'm lonely by myself.
I'm not used to it.

Rose, (he) rather than go walking
on the street on my own.

I might just as well
be there with him.

Don't be cross with me, Rose.

I can't help how I'm made.

Come to bed.

- Rose.
- Yes.

- Am I beautiful?

Go to sleep, Sarah.

You must have been dining
at Windsor. - Huh, huh, huh.

- Light's fading fast.

- In a moment your
servant will come in

- and shut it all out
with the curtains.

- That will be the end of us.

I like you best by sunset.

What the French
painters call (souf?).

Yes.

Sunset.

That's your moment.

- Are you a poet as well
as a painter? - Huh, huh.

- You have very fine hands,
Lady Marjorie.

I shall make them
pieces of mist

yet with a touch
of bone underneath.

Because that's how you are.

You get to know
your subjects that well

simply by painting them?

- I know what you mean
to me in terms of paint.

- Oh, that's not very flattering.
- Huh, huh.

Women like to be
known for themselves.

- Rubbish, if I may say so.

You don't want
anybody to know you.

Nobody does.

We (all own) our mystery.

Our own and everyone else's.

So we arrange our surfaces
to give our chosen impression.

- And the painter?

Rearranges them to give his.

- Ah, but supposing he's wrong?
- Huh. He can't be.

It's his.

The product of a
trained mind and eye.

Is that what you friend's
are trying to do

in those French paintings
you want me to see?

- Perhaps.

- You may say you see them
quite differently, of course.

There's no neat nugget of a
moral you can take away

and forget the picture.

It's not art.

It's not even life anymore.

Life itself is a series
of colorful moments.

And morality?

Largely hypocrisy.

You know you talk
more like a Fabian.

- A nephew of the Countess
of Abercraven, huh? - Um.

- Huh, huh, huh.

- Would you take up the pose,
just a little? - Sorry.

Thank you.
Head up. You see.

Now, I'm a little frightened
of what your picture may show.

- Of what you see.
- Good.

We'll keep the (mask)
dropped a little.

[ Door opens ]

There. We shall be
left alone no longer.

- Shall I draw the curtains,
Lady, Mr. Scone?

- Yeah.
- Yes, Sarah, you may.

(Vous pouvez vous, Madame?)

- Thank you, Lady.
The bright day is done.

- (Hurrah) for the dark.
- Hm, hm.

- You'll stay for tea?
- If I may.

All right.

You can have a rest.

- [ Stretch; yawn ]

- Scone?
Umm?

- Will you bring me some champagne?

[ Bowing ]
Very good me lady.

- Huh, huh, huh.
- [ Chuckle ]

- [ Clears throat ]

- To the divine Sarah.

- The divine Sarah.

[ Sarah hums ]

- It's funny to be in bed
with your boots on.

- Here.

- Still got an (hour's leg).

- What are you up to, now?
Um?

What dream world are you
concocting for yourself,

- you little fantasist?

What's a fantasist?

- Someone who lives on
airy nothing

- for tomorrows
that never come.

Yes!
Airy nothing

and tomorrows
that never come

Oh, God, how much longer
must I wait for tomorrows?

My noble earl of tomorrows
will never bloody come.

For... he is the father
of my luckless child.

My wild seducer.

And it is my Lord
Tomorrow's fault

that I'm cast out
into the storm

in my rags and tatters.

Cold and...ow!

I dropped the baby.

There, there, child.
Do not cry.

You are unharmed.

- All right, Madame Bernhardt,
[ Slap ] - Ow! - that will do.

- Is that my applause, (Valou)?
- No, that's you signal

to get back to work.
Now, come on.

I saw one of them varmints
at the Lyceum once.

- He was this lord, and he...
- And keep your mouth shut.

[ Scone hums ]

What about the boarding
house in Brighton?

[ Lips tightly closed ]

I asked you a question.

You can move
your mouth now.

- Sank you.
- Well?

- I don't know.
Rose rarely talks to me nowadays.

- She don't like me
coming here with you.

Huh, huh.

Does she still think
I'm after your virtue?

- She doesn't trust you.

- She says...
- Yes?

If you were honest
you'd pay me.

- D'you think I should?
- Models get paid.

So do prostitutes.

- Here, you!

- What d'you think you're worth?
- Aw, keep your money

I'm not like that.

Huh.

No, Rose is right.

I ought to reward you.

Maybe I should take
you out somewhere

or buy you a new hat
or something. I don't know.

What do girls like?

- You should know what
a French girl would like.

It's what English girls like,
that's the problem.

I've been away too long.

You'll have to help me.

Now, what's it to be?

- Anything?
- Within reason.

- The Bioscope.

The what?

The Daily Bioscope on
Bishop's Gate Street.

That's within reason.

- Moving pictures?
- Yeah!

Alfred went once
on his night off,

and he told us
all about it.

They're real people,
not painting and still,

but...moving and motorcars
in all seasons. The King, himself.

- I know.

Have you been?
Oh, take me. You promised.

- Then what is so exciting about
the series of flickering shapes?

Because they're real!

They happen just like that.
Nobody made them up.

They're true!

And what about art?

Aw, art's all right
for those than can afford it

- but...it's not true, is it?
- Naw.

- Well, I'll tell you something.
- Yes, but...

- Can we go?
- Be quiet and listen.

They've betrayed art.

All the academicians that
have spent a lifetime

painting a...a chair so exact
that you could almost sit on it.

And now they take
sixty pictures first

to make sure to get
every angle, right?

They are destroying
artistic imagination.

You know what will happen?

We will be so sickened by these
pictures of eight photographs

that we won't be able
to paint a human being at all.

And it'll be your fault, with your
naive demand for the truth.

- It's not my fault. - Um.
Get ready. - Are we going?

Who am I to stop
the march of civilization?

- Allons. - Pardon.
- Au Bioscope. - Huh?

- Get dressed!

- Oh, we're going! - Yes.
- Ohhh. - Ha, ha, ha.

- It was kind of you
to take it away

- and frame it yourself.
- Not at all.

- To the inexperienced eye
an unframed canvas

- always looks like
rough work.

- Also I wish to
give you pleasure.

- You're very courteous,
Mr. Scone. [ Door opens ]

- Ah, Richard.

- I hope I'm not too late.
[ Door closes ]

- [ Scone ] Lady Marjorie
tells me that she's as impatient

- as a child before
a coveted treat.

- Well, I must say I'm
a little curious myself.

We've never had
a portrait before.

Well, ah, where would
you like us to stand

for the, uh,
for the unveiling.

- Oh, just there, I think.

- I must admit to, uh, feeling
a little like a conjuring uncle

at a birthday party.

Well, here goes.

- Abracadabra.

- Oh, Richard, say you like it.

Well, I, ha...I don't know
what to say, ah.

- [ R ] It takes a little
getting used to, ah.

- [ R ] It, it's almost glowing.

- [ R ] Uh, uh, (tawnid),
ha, ha, is that the word?

Makes you look
a bit of a wild cat.

- It, it's certainly unusual.

- [ R ] Distinguished, in a way.

- It, it, it does grow on one.

- Is your hair really
that color?

- [ S ] I think so.

You don't think
you've gone too far?

- It's, uh,...a bit blurry.
- That's the new brush work.

- Mr. Scone will think
us such philistines.

- Lady Marjorie, I'm afraid you
won't convert your husband

- to the new impressionist.
- No. No, no, no, I like it.

- I've made up my mind.

- Thank you, Scone.
Now, then...

where shall we hang it?

- Uh, first, I would
like to borrow it.

- To borrow it?
- If I may, yes.

- I would like to submit it
to the hanging committee

- at the Royal Academy.
- The Academy?

Aren't they rather more
traditional in their requirements?

- Well, I think if you leave that
to me I think it can be arranged.

- Ah, yes, guaranteed
a safe return, of course.

- Richard, I think it's
a wonderful idea.

- Here!
- Artistic license.

- (Piggy thought).

- Do I really look like that?

- That's our room all right.

- But, how do you know?
You've never been there.

- I didn't need to.

- Who's that behind me?

- Rose.

- You've never seen Rose.
- I have

- through your eyes.

- Ah, there's all my things.
I leave them lying around.

- Rose hangs hers up.
She's the tidy one. - I know.

- And, you don't mind
me mentioned it, but

- here there should be a
little plaque with,

- To Work is to Play,
written on it.

- Ah, To Work is...
Yes. Uh, huh.

- What'cha gonna' call it?

- The Maids.

- Uhhhh.

- That's not very
romantic, is it?

- Why don't you call it
something nice like...

- Waiting for Dawn, or
something like that.

- Uh-uhh.

- Well, there are pictures
subtitled like that.

- Well, we have other
artists, too.

- What'cha gonna' do with it now?

- Sell it.

- Sell me and Rose?
- Uh-huh.

- You won't need me
anymore now, will you?

- Now you've finished
your rotten old picture.

- Cast off like an old shoe.

- You've used me.

- No...art has used you, Sarah.

And it's used me, too.

- There.

Just a minute, Mr. Scone.

Why aren't I your mistress?

What's the matter with me?

I was good enough for your
bleeding picture!

- Oh, such language,
Madame Bernhardt!

- Oh!
- Damn you!

- What!
Now, wait a minute.

- I wouldn't be your mistress if
you were the last man on earth!

- But you might have bleeding
asked me! - Ha, ha, ha.

- What are you
laughing for?

- You and your idea of decency.

- Stop it!
Ha, ha.

- That's not shocking.
There's a good girl.

- It's our last night together.

- I'll take you out to supper.

- Then we'll go to the Bioscope.

- How about that, huh?

- Charmed I'm sure, Mr. Scone.

[ Sarah singing in the hallway ]
Rose rattling dishes.

[ Door opens ]

[ Continues singing--loudly ]

- I don't know what
the world is coming to.

- What's that, Mr. Hudson?

- House of Commons (Cumberland) sends
transfer to Middleboro for 1000 pounds.

- No footballer is worth
that amount of money.

- It's not a game anymore,
it's a blooming trade.

- (Not to me), Mr. Hudson.

- I didn't ask for
your opinion, Sarah.

- (Now that happen),
clear the table.

[ Sarah continues to
sing and hum ]

- Great heaven!

- Sarah, what have you done?

What do you mean?

I haven't done nothing, Mr. Hudson.
[ Bell rings ]

- Gasp! That's today's paper.
- Burn this

at once in the kitchen range,
you understand?

And nobody must see it.
Burn it!

- What's the matter?

Don't just stand there, girl,
burn it!

And you wait in here,
my girl, until I return.

- What happened to the paper
this morning, Hudson?

- Eh, not come yet sir.

- It would be late this morning
when I especially wanted it.

- I shall send someone
around to enquire just

- as soon as convenient, sir.

- (I shall them to age)
and I'll get my papers elsewhere

- if they can't deliver on time.

- Very good, sir.

- And remind her ladyship to meet me
at the Academy entrance at 4:30.

- It should be quite an interesting
afternoon, eh, Hudson?

- Uh, quite, sir.

Splendid morning.
I think I'll walk across the park.

Tell Pearce he can put the carriage
away unless her ladyship wants it.

Very good, sir.

[ Door closes ]

Now then.

- Just you look at that.

- Oh, that's my painting.

- It's in the paper.
- Read what it says underneath.

- I can't, Mr. Hudson.
- Come on, girl.

Read what it says.
You can talk to me.

Read what it says out loud.

No, the print's too small.

Picture's turned out
nice though, hasn't it?

Very well.
I'll read it for you.

'Sensation of this year's Academy
are undoubtedly two striking pictures

- 'by Geoffrey Skawn,...'
- Pronounced Scoon.

- Shut up.

'...artist nephew of the
Countess of Abercraven,

'hung side by side in
fascinating counterpoint,

' "The Mistress and the Maids",
as this pair of canvases

'are already being called,
are both scenes from the

'house of Mr. Richard Bellamy,
MP Undersecretary of State

'for the Admiralty, and set a new
fashion for home portraits.

'Asked to name the model
for the scantily-clad maidservant

'in his canvas aptly entitled "The Maids,"
Mr. Geoffrey Skawn referred

'our reporter to the servant's
quarters at 165 Eaton Place.'

What a cheek.

How did than man get
up to maid's quarters, eh?

What has been going on
behind my back, girl?

I had the afternoon
painting, like Lady Marjorie.

But, not up in the maid's bedroom?

No, he was in the drawing
room painting her.

Now, you've been up to your
tricks again, my girl, haven't you?

I haven't, Mr. Hudson, I went to his
studio and posed for him in his bed.

Uh, I mean the bed in the studio.

- Now, don't lie, girl.
- I'm not, Mr. Hudson.

I went there every Wednesday.
I got up early.

[ Bell ringing ]

Well, I can tell you one thing, my girl,
[ Bell ringing ]

there's going to be hell to pay
in this house before the day is over.

[ Door opens ]

You mark my words.

Good old Sarah.
You got your face in the papers.

Fancy.

[ Indistinct talking ]

- Go down and talk them now.
- Very good, sir.

Believe me, sir, if I had
had the slightest inkling...

- THAT will be all, Hudson.
- Yes sir.

[ Door slams shut ]

- It's monstrous.
- Yes, it is.

- He must have crept up
the back stairs, or something,

- when Hudson wasn't looking.

- The point is that we have
been seriously damaged,

- both socially and politically,
by that irresponsible cad.

- I never liked the fellow.
He talked too much.

- He is a good painter.
- Oh, yes, I suppose so.

- And we helped to establish his
reputation at the cost of our own.

All the same I do think
the sensible thing

is to try and treat
the whole thing as a joke.

It's no joke having one's wife
made the laughing stock of London.

- I agree. But if we're
to survive the ridicule

we must let our friend think that
we're not annoyed but amused.

- Of course the worst thing is
to think that Rose could have

- behaved so foolishly,
leading the new girl astray.

- So both have to be
dismissed, you know.

- Otherwise, the discipline of the
whole household will collapse.

- Indeed they will.

(What cries out the most) is
the impudence of that man Scone,

Coming into this house and acting
with such monstrous indiscretion.

[ Door closes ]

- You're to pack your trunks tonight and
to be gone in the morning, the pair of you.

- They'll pay you a month's wages,
which is generous, in my opinion.

- I doubt they'll ever want to set eyes
on either of you again.

- They were to have gone out for
dinner tonight, but cancelled it now.

- [ Sarah ] It's not fair.
I haven't done nothing wrong.

- Nothing wrong you call it.
Only to make this house

- the laughing stock of London.

- Those are the master's own wants.

- Oh, he's in a terrible rage,
and who's to blame him.

- I don't know how
you could hurt him.

- [ S ] But what have you done?
What have any of us done

- for that matter, even me?

- Oh, Rose, I'm sorry.

- [ S? ] What did you say?

I told him I didn't
know anything about it,

and what I did not know,
I could not be held responsible for.

Ignorance is no excuse in law,
he said.

It is your job to know.
That's what you're paid for.

- So I said...
- What?

- I told him there was no
knowing with you modern girls.

Not like my young day when girls
were properly brought up and

glad to get a good position.

I told him I had no respect
for the changing times.

That you were all as deceitful
as a wagonload of monkeys.

- You mean you let him think what he likes,
and let us take the blame.

- I've got my own
position to think of.

- And the family's.

- Oh, Sarah.

- Never mind, Rose.

- I don't see why you should suffer.
You didn't even have the fun.

- They can't blame you
if I tell them the truth.

- Come on.
- Where to?

- I'm going upstairs and
tell them the whole story.

- They can get rid of me if they like,
but not you, that's not fair.

- We can't go up there

- without being sent for.
- Oh, yes we can.

- Excuse my, my lady, sir.

Send them away, please Richard.

- But, my lady, it wasn't our fault.

- I didn't know he was
going to put me up

- and show me in front
of everybody.

- I thought he was only do....
- I really can't stay here

and listen to all these excuses.

- (Well, I think the done.)

Your mistress feels betrayed in her
own home by people she trusted.

That's all there is to be said.

- I beg your pardon, sir, but it isn't.
- Isn't?
- It isn't just, sir, not to Rose.

- She never had nothing to do
(with him Scone on me).

- It was all me.

- No use, Sarah.
- Yes it is.

[ Loud ] - Now, listen!

- He asked me to go
to his studio.

I went there every
Wednesday I had off.

He never came anywhere
near this place, and Rose

has never seen him in her life.

[ Soft ] Now, look, sir.

You're a fair man.

You wouldn't want to see
an injustice done, would you?

- I will not be badgered
by my own servants

- in my own drawing room.

- Well, I went and told the truth.
- What good will that do?

- No gentleman would stick up
for two servants

- no matter what the truth was.

- Night after night,
slumming with a servant girl.

- Rose, he's not like that.
He says in Paris...

- Paris. Paris.
Who cares what goes on there?

- This is London.

- Oh, a gentleman can marry
a chorus girl. That's romantic.

- If you don't exactly
get it in the papers,

- that he's carryin'
on with a scivvy.

- No, he got what he wanted
from you, and you was fool

- enough to give it to him.
- I never did!

- Now, listen Rose.

- I've tried to make things all right,
and it's no use being cross with me.

- I'll make him tell
old Bellamy the truth.

- How.
- I donno how!

- But I'll think of something.

- [ Sarah ] It's all right for me,
but Rose is different.

She's never done anything else.
She wouldn't know how to start again.

She's set her heart on working
herself to be a housekeeper one day.

She wasn't even there,
so why should she suffer?

- The survival of the fittest.

- And who are you, Mr. Bleeding Scone
to decide who's fit.

- If you could keep that flash
for long enough, I could use you again.

[ Tearful ] Mr. Scone.

I've been pushed
around all my life.

(I've only went visit since you this year. )
I'd thought I found it.

- Now, you deceive yourself,
and the truth is not in you.

- But you don't deceive me.
- (You're sick...) - Ahh!

- Now, now, now,
chit, chit, chit.

- Now, look. Now, look.

- What do you expect me to do, eh?

- I can't employ you both,
now can I?

- I could ask my rich relations if they
could use a couple of kitchen maids

- in the castle.
- I want you to tell 'em the truth.

What truth?

They think we let you
come up into our bedroom

and paint us in bed.

[ Laughing ]
- What are you laughing for?

- The bourgeois mentality.

- So they think I've been creeping
through the little green beige door

- up to the attic, do they?

- Lady Marjorie's terribly upset.

- You shouldn't have done it to us.
- Done what?

- Humiliated her in public.

- That is the price of
being in the public eye.

- And, now don't pretend
you're sorry for her.

- I am.

- If it had been me, I'd of...
I'd of died of shame.

- Look, I am a painter and I
paint pictures, and that's that.

- You can all go to hell
with your sickly hothouse emotions.

- I'm going back to Paris
first thing in the morning.

- (And hear of this damp and cloy.)

- Don't go like that.
You can't. - I am.

- Now, go away and leave me alone.

- Ugh!

Look.

I'll come and live here with you.

And look after you,
and be your...

Whatever you like, only...
get Rose off.

Just do that.

I'll do anything you want.

Anything?

All right.

Take your clothes off.

All of them.

Go on!

Would you like a drink?

You may need one.

You've no idea how bizarre
my tastes might be.

[ Voices heard ]
I guess there's someone coming.

- I know.
[ Knocking on door ]

- Go on.

[ Knocking on door ]
- Scone!

- Oh, no. That's all I need.

- You better get behind that screen.
You might learn something.

[ Off-screen ] - Ah, Bellamy.
- May I come in?

- By all means.

- Mr. Scone, I'd like to get
this thing settled once and for all.

- Uh, Have you, uh, come to
challenge me to a duel?

- Walking sticks or paint brushes
at fifty yards.

- You can drop the flippancy
and tell me why you did it.

- I did what?

- The paintings.

- I painted two pictures
and exhibited them.

- And that's what they're for.

- Surely you must know that
to hang those pictures side by side

- will lead to gossip and comparison.

- It never entered my head.

- Huh. Would you like a drink?
- No.

- I forgot about our
class conscious society.

- I thought they were works of art
not social comment.

- Was it necessary to
use my underhouse maid?

- Sarah of the expressive eyes?

- Both girls have got some
cock-and-bull story about

- her visiting this studio.

- Well, what do you
want me to say?

- Sarah came here
on her evenings off.

- Oh, she seems
to like you, by the way.

- I trust you haven't been
discussing me with my servants?

- Really, Bellamy, there's no
pleasing you this evening, is there?

I thought you would
like to know that

a pretty girl thinks
you're a good master.

And which of the two
did you find the prettier?

Which did you?

I've only seen one.

Do you honestly expect
me to believe that...

Yes, I do.

Do you think I'm such
a poor artist that I can't

imagine the interior
of a housemaid's attic?

Are you prepared to give me
your word that you were never

upstairs in that room?

Yes.

I went to your house every
afternoon for one reason only.

To paint your wife's portrait.

- So they were telling the truth?

Your servants?
Yes.

I'm afraid you'll
have to keep them.

That will depend on
my wife's attitude.

Oh, I don't know.

Think of the ammunition
it will give the Liberals

when they find out
a junior minister,

a member of the Committee
for Imperial Defence,

had dismissed two of his
servants for no reason at all

except that his
wife's vanity was ruffled.

- Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.

- The radicals would call it
victimization, a favorite word of theirs.

- I don't think that Balfour
would thank you

- for adding to his troubles.

- Even if you offered to resign.

- I'd forget all about it
if I were you.

- You'll find that everyone
else will do the same.

You sound like a
blackmailer, Scone.

However, I will accept your word that
you painted my servant in the studio.

Well, I'll leave you to your...
[ A noise behind the screen ]

- to your work.

- Well, thank you for receiving me.

- Yes, sir. - Goodnight, Scone.
- Goodnight.

- Thank you, Mr. Scone.

- And you'd have done that....

- for Rose?

- Huh?

- Well, my divine Sarah...

- we'll open another
bottle of champagne

- to celebrate.

- Celebrate what?

- We'll think of something.

- Oh, I wished you'd seen
our picture, Rose.

- Just once.

- We could still go, you know.
It's open to the public.

- Why, you'd be recognized.

- No, it's best to forget all about it.

- I don't think I'll ever forget.

- Was he that nice?

- He's funny.

- Rose!

- Yes.

- D'you think you could come along
when I meet him again?

- Yes, if you want to.

- You see, at the Bioscope,
there's words between the pictures.

- and if you can't read them
you don't know what's going on.

- Oh.

- Aw, we'll go together someday, Rose.

- I'll take you.

- I'm sorry I got you
in all that trouble.

- Oh, you made it come
all right in the end.

- Aren't men funny.