Episode 13 Dickensian

Fetch me a warm coat, I wish to go out.

I don't think you understand my predicament.

I should, you find it necessary to remind me of it often enough.

I am drowning in debt,

having borrowed money to support this endeavour,

but if there is no progress and my credit fails, then I am lost.

There will be progress and perhaps sooner now than you think.

Now, release my arm, before people draw the wrong conclusion.

Thank you.

You said there would be progress.

-Am I at least permitted to ask when I might see it?

-Soon.

There has been some development?

This partnership will only thrive if we both stick to what we're best at.

I will bring your sister to heel, while you, my dear Havisham,

will call on Mr Jaggers

and see if he can't extend you an advance of some kind.

You're too sick to eat, is that it?

I doubt I would be very good company.

Sir Leicester is not a man to be kept waiting.

Do you think there are not 100 women in London

who would trade places with you, given the opportunity?

Well, then, let them do so!

And have our father be sent back to prison?

No.

Then you must act to prevent it.

You must know I have your best interests at heart.

I know.

Things will not happen on their own, Honoria.

Sir Leicester will not wait for ever.

DOOR OPENS

DOOR SHUTS

HE RINGS BELL

Good morning, Mary. Please let your mistress know I'm here.

I'm afraid Miss has gone out, sir.

Out? Out where?

She didn't say.

-Thank you, Mary.

-Let her know I called, will you?

-A customer, Miss.

-Thank you, Martha. Do you have a card?

It's Miss Havisham.

I just saw Frances. It seems her humour's not improved.

Which makes it all the better to see a friendly face.

How are you?

I think I can honestly say, I have rarely felt better.

Oh, so you've decided to treat yourself to a new dress?

Exactly.

Well, magenta is all the rage in Paris...

I was thinking... something a little lighter.

Lighter?

More white.

White?

SHE GASPS

I must say, I thought you'd be happier for me.

I am. Of course I am.

It just seems rather sudden.

Oh. And how often have I had to stand by

and watch the breakneck speed

at which you and your Captain Hawdon conducted your affair?

I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking.

Do you miss him?

A little.

I was surprised to hear it from someone else.

Well, it was a very difficult time.

With your father, of course -

but that's all resolved now, is it not?

And I hear you are being courted by Sir Leicester Dedlock.

Surely that lifts the spirits?

He's a good man, with much influence -

and not to mention a rather large estate.

I'm happy for you.

As I hoped you'd be for me.

Please don't think I'm not. I simply advise caution.

-Caution?

-Well, I knew you liked him, but...marriage?

You'll understand when you get to know him better.

-When we're alone, he's so different.

-I'd just hate to see you let down.

You think he considers the Havisham fortune the real prize and not me?

No, I never said that.

I'm not a child, Honoria. I know my own mind.

Be happy for me.

I am. Truly.

Now, let's choose a wedding dress!

Will it taste nice?

Medicine always tastes nice,

as long as you remember it's going to make you better.

But the brown stuff I had when my belly was bad didn't.

-The trick is to close your eyes and pretend it's honey.

-SHOP DOOR OPENS

Did you get it?

A real tonic, they said.

Have him swinging from the chandelier, if we had one.

As long as it does the trick. God bless Peter.

Yes, indeed.

Hadn't you better get off to work?

No, I'd rather see Tim home and settled first.

I'll explain to Mr Scrooge.

He's not as bad as people think.

Right, come on, little fella, let's get you home in the warm.

-On you get.

-One, two, three...

A nice warm fire and a spoonful of what will do you good.

It's going to taste like honey!

We're to be raised up, Miss Biggetywitch -

-raised up to our proper place.

-How so?

Mr Bumble has been told that his interview with the board

will take place this week.

We shall purchase a new suit.

Oh, the way you've been talking about it,

I thought this promotion of his was already agreed.

It's merely a formality, nothing more.

A formality that requires a new suit?

I thought I'd made myself very clear.

What I'm still not clear on

is whether or not this job you keep talking about is actually a job,

or just a figment of your imagination.

His position will be moved up.

We will be mingling with our betters.

He will need to dress accordingly.

By wearing a new suit at his interview,

he will simply be showing the trustees

that he understands his bespoke responsibilities.

-Oh, so we know where we stand now?

-Yes.

He ain't got the job yet.

Good morning, Mr Scrooge.

Is it?

Well?

Just like honey.

Be back to your old self in no time.

FLOORBOARDS CREAK

You're late.

Apologies, Mr Scrooge. I had to visit the pharmacist, you see.

Young Timothy hasn't been so well.

Oh, dear.

And he chooses an ailment which needs to be tended on my time,

rather than yours?

Well, I had to wait for the pharmacist to open, you see -

and, well, I can't be in two places at once, can I?

I should think not.

As it seems you insist on taking your wages

whether you are actually here or not,

then if you were indeed in two places at once,

I don't doubt you'd insist that I paid you twice.

I can stay late, make up the time.

Hmm?

Yes.

Yes, you will, but not from the goodness of your heart,

as your manner would have me believe,

but because you owe it to me

and I am not in the habit of paying for things I have not received.

No.

No.

The time that you owe shall start

when you are sat at your desk with pen in hand, not a second before.

No, sir. Thank you, sir.

Dodger, my dear.

Ain't lost any of your guile, I see.

Friend of yours?

Once I'd given him ten bob and a new silk handkerchief for his wife.

Good boy. So, what news?

-I'm keeping the boys in line till you get out.

-What about Bill?

-Ain't seen him.

-You will, my dear - and when you do,

don't let him throw his weight about.

Make it clear that you're taking care of the business with my blessing -

that crossing you is the same as crossing me.

Treat him like the wild dog he is, tight on a leash,

or he'll sink his teeth in you.

-I can handle Bill.

-Course you can, my dear.

So, how long are you going to be stuck in here?

Bucket wants it to be me that killed Jacob Marley,

but he can't prove anything.

It's only his malice keeping me in here

and that ain't enough for the law.

I'll be home by teatime.

Good morning, Inspector.

Mr Jaggers.

I understand the pies are rather good.

A weakness.

Is there something I can do for you, perhaps?

Yes, there is.

It appears you have one of my clients in your cells.

None of the cut-throats and thieves we have down there

are likely to have the funds to afford YOUR services, Mr Jaggers.

My client's name is Mr Fagin.

You are holding him, are you not?

We are.

In the case of Mr Marley's murder?

He had dealings with Mr Marley, of a nefarious nature.

What's more, he has no credible witness

as to his movements on the night of the murder.

So, you'll be charging him?

Presenting your evidence to the magistrates in the morning?

See, if Mr Fagin is guilty and you have proof,

then like any other law-abiding citizen,

I will be happy to stand beside you and watch him hang.

But if you have no such proof,

if his detention owes more to some kind

of personal vendetta against him,

then I will use all my influence to bring that injustice into the light.

And my influence, as I'm sure you know, is not inconsiderable.

Might I ask if you're threatening me, Mr Jaggers?

It's not a threat.

It's merely a fair representation of my intended actions,

should you not release my client...

..today.

-I'll be off now.

-Right.

Since it seems I'm not needed any more.

-And not being disposed to overstaying my welcome.

-Nah.

Fanny has offered me a bed. Well, I say a bed.

It's more of a wooden board, really.

Not the best thing for my constitution,

from a medical perplexity,

but beggars can't be choosers, eh? That's what they say.

Mayhaps we could have a little drop of gin? A farewell toast?

Send me on my way?

Or not.

Well, I bid you farewell, Mr Wegg, and I hope I've served you well

and that you will think of me kindly, from time to time.

HE SCOFFS

THUD, MR WEGG SCREAMS

Well, get it off him, someone!

Oh, stand back! I'm a nurse. Let me through.

Oh, give him some air! Move.

Now, it's probably broke, someone go to the pharmacy.

Get some splints, bandages, morphine for the pain!

-And someone get me a gin.

-Wait!

I am well-documented in emergency situations.

You just lay back and let me tend to your appendage.

I don't need a nurse.

He's delirious, that's what it is. Where's that morphine?

-Where's my gin?

-Stop!

I don't need a nurse, or a splint, just...

..a carpenter!

What's it like at the back? Could you turn?

It's beautiful, Miss.

You look dreadfully pale. Is it too tight?

-Oh, I'm fine.

-And the veil?

Excellent.

But I want bigger, at the bottom. More volume.

Could you turn again, please?

Pardon me, Miss, but do you have a date yet - for the wedding?

No, but my fiance insists that it'll be soon. He's very impulsive.

Well, if there's time, we should look through all the illustrations.

Isn't that right, Miss?

Miss Honoria?

Huh?

Oh, erm, of course we should.

Yes, please do. Every detail must be perfect.

Martha, the design book.

Would you excuse me a moment?

SHE WEEPS

MR BUMBLE GRUNTS

Hurry, Bumble!

Almost there, my sweet.

Does it fit?

It's snug, my love.

Well, snug is good - it suggests opulence, authority...

I had the tailor be penurious in his measurements.

There's nothing worse than a suit hanging off a man

as though he were a twig beside a lake upon which the owner

has flung his attire before taking a swim.

A man should have an abundance about him, he should be substantial.

I can't wait, Bumble!

Substantial enough for you, madam?

Oh!

Oh, a suit does something for you, sir.

Oh, I have a flutter.

A flutter?

Oh, there is an awakening.

Oh, something stirs...

..like an itch, inside me.

-Then we must scratch it, my love...

-No! Keep it on, Bumble.

But the trousers, my sweet - they are beyond snug,

they have stopped the circulation.

Little Bumble is imprisoned,

deprived of light and movement...

We must free him.

Show some restraint, sir!

There are more important things to worry about than little Bumble.

-There are?

-Yes!

You must wear in your suit.

It must not look new when you attend the interview.

It must appear as though it is just one of your many suits.

But it's my only suit.

They must think you a man of means, not a man with only one suit.

Oh.

Wear it in.

RAIN POURS

Back to work, Inspector?

It seems I must let a certain eel slip the net.

You don't sound very pleased about it.

-I'm not.

-Has Arthur Havisham been in?

Ain't seen him since he left with you this morning.

-And he hasn't been back?

-Not that I've seen.

Damn.

Then get me a brandy.

Daisy? Get the gentleman a brandy.

Do I know you, sir?

I don't believe so.

I'm normally quite good with faces.

People often mistake me for someone else.

I have that kind of face.

What is this?

That is a most singular wallet.

My wallet? Who the hell are you?

I am Inspector Bucket of the Detective.

May I?

What's this about?

You'll note the stud work here, used to mark out the letter "M"?

-Your initial?

-Yes. My forename, Meriweather.

And beside that, traces of another letter.

Well, perhaps. I bought it second hand, un-picked a few studs.

There's no crime in that, is there, Inspector?

That's still to be established.

The letter you removed -

it was a "J".

What of it?

Jacob Marley.

No...wait. I told you, I bought it.

Might I ask where?

-Go, quick as you can.

-Honoria!

-Feeling any better?

-A little. You seem pleased.

I've just had a rather excellent meeting with a merchant,

an introduction from Sir Leicester.

Could prove very lucrative.

Police business, Miss.

This wallet...

..do you recognise it?

I think so. It's been altered, but...

Do you remember the man who bought it?

I believe it was Mr Compeyson, sir. A week ago.

A shilling, if I recall.

I'm to ask you two more questions.

You must answer both truthfully, or face the consequences.

Do you understand, Miss?

You bought this from someone?

Yes, sir.

Who?

Mr Fagin, sir.

VOICES AND RATTLE OF CARRIAGES IN STREET

CELL DOOR OPENS

Your lawyer came to see me.

Nothing personal, my dear.

As an innocent man, incarcerated like this,

I felt in need of legal advice.

He was very eloquent.

Insisted you be released...

..today.

Now, I want you to know, Inspector, that I bear you no ill will.

You were simply doing your job, that's all. No hard feelings.

That's very gracious of you. Thank you.

There was something else?

Something else?

Oh, yes.

-Do you know what this is?

-Looks like a wallet.

Oh, it's more than that.

This wallet fits the description of the one stolen from Jacob Marley,

the night he was murdered.

You can see his initials there, you see?

"JM."

Jacob Marley.

I don't quite follow you, my dear. What's this got to do with me?

I have a witness that says you sold it to them.

This will see you hanged.

Wait!

We have to do our merry dance, Inspector, I know that.

But we both know who we are.

And it's a very long time since I stole a wallet myself.

Silks and wallets are sold to the Old Curiosity Shop

and I'll wager that's where you'll find your witness.

They're all lifted - not by me,

but by my young associates, as well you know.

And that particular wallet came from the best of the lot of them...

..Dodger.

I am not a bank, Arthur, nor do I have access to your sister's estate.

You are the company lawyer, are you not?

Why then can't you complete the necessary paperwork for an advance against earnings?

-Because any such advance would need the approval of the board first.

-It's my money!

Yes, when it is due to you, not before.

Your salary will arrive in your bank every month, as usual.

It's two weeks away.

-I can speak to your sister if you wish...

-Damn my sister!

Must she constantly be an obstacle to me?

I am a Havisham too.

-That must count for something.

-Yes, it does.

It gives you the privilege of coming in here to berate me,

despite the fact I can do nothing to assist you.

DOOR OPENS

Gentlemen.

I wasn't expecting you.

If it's inconvenient?

No, no, no, no, please. Take a seat.

No need, I come simply with news.

In fact, it's good you're both here,

two names to check off my list in a single visit.

-News?

-Yes.

I am to be married...

to Mr Compeyson.

With respect, Miss Havisham,

could you not have consulted me first?

Why?

For counsel.

You do not approve?

Well, I know nothing of this Mr Compeyson's character,

-of his intentions...

-His intentions are to marry me.

Did I not make that clear?

Arthur? Have you nothing to say?

-You can't.

-Oh?

You don't know him.

I know him very well, otherwise I wouldn't have accepted his proposal.

What your brother means is that you've hardly known him long enough

to form an association which would justify marriage.

I urge you to reconsider.

And I urge you to remember your place, Mr Jaggers.

You are my lawyer for as long as it pleases me,

not my father and not my guardian.

Will no-one be happy for me?

It seems there is only one man in my life

who puts my happiness above all else.

I intend to reward that devotion, that loyalty...

by marrying him.

DOOR OPENS

-Have you lost your mind?

-Arthur.

You told her that you'd marry her?!

-So, you've seen her?

-Are you insane?

-Look, not here.

-Answer me!

Would you have everyone know our business?

How could you do this?

She had found new confidence after the shareholders' meeting,

-we were losing her. I had to do something.

-So, you proposed?

It worked, didn't it?

She is back at heel, hanging on my every word.

But you're already married. Or have you forgotten?

And what if I wasn't?

What?!

We're nearing the end of the game, Arthur.

You must hold your nerve.

Only a few more weeks and we'll both get exactly what we deserve.

Arthur. Arthur!

-Night, Miss.

-Night, Martha.

Honoria?

I was just leaving, I'll be home soon.

We can walk home together.

We had word from Sir Leicester, accepting your invitation to dinner.

I sent him a note.

You ready?

Honoria?

Honoria!

Please!

I'll fetch help.

DOOR OPENS

-I'm sorry.

-Lucky I was so close, eh?

Getting a doctor out this time of night costs you an arm and a leg.

Whereas me, all I charge you is the price of a couple of gins.

Well, three or four. Certainly no more than five.

Well, I'm very grateful, I feel much better. Thank you.

Healing hands, I got.

I mean, with minor ailments like colds and that,

I don't even have to touch you,

all I do is look at you, see 'em off.

Yes, thank you, Mrs Gamp.

We'd better get you home. Can you walk?

-Of course. It's passed, I don't know what happened.

-Well, I do.

-I'm sorry?

-Plain as the nose on your face.

You're having a baby.