Episode 3 Parade's End

Your mother died yesterday.

I owe it to myself to be fair to Christopher.

The move to Gray's Inn has been a success.

Germany's looking for a European war

so don't fill your dance card in Berlin.

He just knows everything!

Why, you're soppy about him!

Miss Wannop.

You know what I want, I can't have.

We've dreamed of this.

I'm going to live chaste because I want to.

God, the girl's in love!

You have something to live for.

I am Sylvia...Satterthwaite.

Yes.

My name is...

BOMBS EXPLODE

My name is... TRAIN CLATTERS ON TRACKS

MAN COUGHS

My name is...

SOLDIERS WAIL AND COUGH

BOMBS EXPLODE OUTSIDE

I took the liberty of keeping back for you some lamb cutlets.

Supplies have been...

Oh, you're very good to me, Mr Penny!

So far we have the plovers' eggs, orange marmalade,

one game pie, one pork pie, the strong cheddar...

And, oh, I don't know, a Dundee cake.

-All to go to Gray's Inn with your regular order, Mrs Tietjens?

-No, no.

To be delivered to Captain Hans Von Grunwald-Merks, Alexandra Palace.

Oh...

-SHE GIGGLES

-I know!

They've turned it into a prisoner of war camp for officers.

Yes, I remember the Captain. From Munich, I believe.

Isn't it ridiculous?

And a tin of toffees.

Thank you very much.

Sardines!

The butcher is still being beastly!

I thought that now Edward was in minesweepers

instead of in Lewes jail...

We should move to London anyway.

I need to be available

to the critics and journalists for my novel.

And you need a job.

I will write to Mr Tietjens

and ask him if he can do something.

How can Mr Tietjens do anything? And why should he?

Don't you think he's got enough to do,

murdering German soldiers for no good reason?

I meant his father, of course!

MR Tietjens!

Does Christopher call you MISS Wannop?

What else would he call me?

It's you he's pals with.

All right, well, don't get upset.

Why shouldn't I? The war has turned decent people into beasts!

Ordinary people,

like Mr Hedges the butcher.

You can have my sardines.

No, thank you.

Oh, Mrs Duchemin telephoned!

Apparently her husband is about to be discharged from the asylum.

He can't be! He's dangerous!

Cured. Sane as sixpence.

Naturally, she didn't sound too pleased.

Really, the vanity of those people.

Self, self, self!

-What people?

-Why, the doctors, of course!

Duchemin was perfectly happy in the asylum.

Beautiful gardens. He wanted for nothing.

Now how am I going to..?

Yes, I see...

No, you don't!

You've seen Vincent's rooms.

It costs money to make the right impression.

How am I going to account to my husband upstairs?

Oh! And how much did you..?

SHE WHISPERS A lot!

Vincent has a position to keep up now,

since he has been honoured by His Majesty.

As a Companion of the Order of the Bath...

-WATER DRIPS ABOVE

-Edith, is he in the bath?

You obviously haven't understood a thing!

WATER DRIPS

EDITH MOANS

SOLDIERS WAIL AND COUGH

BOMBS EXPLODE OUTSIDE

HE WINCES

Get down! Get down!

NURSE: Stop him, someone!

Get him off him!

Get down!

MAN WAILS

ORDERLY: You'll be all right, son. You'll be all right.

HE COUGHS

Would you mind telling me where I am?

And how long I've been here? And...

..what is my name?

Good morning, Brownie.

Did you sleep well?

No.

Oh, dear. Are we in a mood today?

Why did you lock your door?

Oh, was that you?

Who did you think it was? That Irish thug?

Well, it's no good talking to you.

What did you ask me down for?

Not to have my doorknob rattled at 2am.

Sylvia, you KNOW how I feel about you.

I asked you down because you boodle petrol for your car.

And to make up a four after dinner, and to be pleasant company for my mother,

who, by the way, is not running

-a house of assignation.

-I swear, if you agreed to marry me...

And as you've just reminded me, I already have a husband.

I mean it, Sylvia.

If you promise to divorce and marry me, I would wait, gladly.

I would be patient.

It's all your fault, you know.

For being so sweet to me when you want to be,

for giving me hope.

Can I hope, my darling?

I love you like...

Oh, dash it! I wish I were one of those poetical types.

Oh, do try.

What do you love me like?

Like...

..like anything.

I love you like anything, Sylvia!

You're irresistible.

But it's no good.

As a Catholic I can't divorce, and even if I could,

Christopher has never given me any ground.

-I wouldn't be too sure about that.

-But I AM sure!

Christopher is the straightest man I know.

He makes me want to scream.

Oh, would you look at herself!

Penthesilea to the life!

Wouldn't you say so, Lord Brownlie?

Good morning, Father.

I suppose you think that because you're a priest,

you can say things I'd horsewhip any other man for.

Your mama says you would know the whereabouts of a good map,

showing footpaths and the like.

Where would I find such a thing?

In the window seat.

Is it to send to Germany?

There's two battalions of the Irish Volunteers

out there fighting the Germans.

No, 'tis a nice, long, solitary walk.

That's what I'm thinking of.

With a packed lunch, maybe.

That's my plan for today.

Well...

..that's not what they say about your husband at the club!

-Mmm! And what do they say?

-Ask Paul Sandbach, for one.

But I'm asking you.

Your husband is debauched.

SHE CLATTERS DOWN CUTLERY

His pal MacMaster keeps a woman

they share right under your nose,

if you want to know.

SHE LAUGHS

They were seen on a train,

going at it like monkeys.

Who was?

THEY MOAN

Tietjens and that woman. On a train coming down from Scotland.

Oh, for heaven's sake!

They were seen by a whole crowd of us who'd been at Westershire's.

SHE SOBS

MacMaster and Mrs...

I forget her name...had been caught out in a hotel in Scotland,

and Christopher was rescuing her.

He was being gallant!

HE SNORTS

So you'd better stop spreading lies about my husband.

Ask your husband about the Wannop girl. I dare you!

I don't know any Wannop, and you're only making it worse for yourself.

-Let go.

-23 and fresh as paint.

Everyone knows Tietjens has been besotted with her

ever since you went off with Potty Perowne!

SHE WHIPS HORSE

It was quite wrong of Sylvia to keep her hunter

when every decent animal in the country has been taken by the Army.

She's making me look unpatriotic.

-Is that him?

-Yes, sir.

Taking pictures of the shoreline, bold as brass.

Do you hear from your boy much?

Which one?

No, anyway.

Christopher, a bit of a rip, is he?

Not that I know.

He's liaison officer with the French artillery.

-No, he isn't.

-Eh?

He went native and was sent back to the lines.

The French wanted us to send out more of our territorials,

but Kitchener said he needs them here in case the Germans invade.

The Germans can't invade if we keep them busy where they are.

That's what your boy told Kitchener's man.

-THEY CHUCKLE

-Did he? Damn fool!

Look here, there's some talk at the club against your boy.

His wife's pro-German, they say.

And he's...overstretched himself.

Bit of a rip altogether.

Young Brownlie seems to know a lot about it, I wouldn't know how.

Does your boy bank with them?

Of course he does. Brownlie's are the family bankers.

-Ah.

-If I'd known my eldest wasn't going to sire,

I'd have looked to the young 'un better.

I'll let his brother ask about.

See what's what.

Good morning.

Anything in the paper?

No. The interesting news is never in the papers.

I heard last week that Algy Hyde

had sold his wife to General Cranshaw

for a commission in the blues,

but you may look in vain in the newspapers.

It came in my post. We who are doing work of national importance

have to put up with the sex-fury of debutantes

whose desires can't be accommodated under wartime conditions.

Ruggles, you know my young brother, Christopher?

I met him once before he went out. He was insolent.

You might pick up what you can about him and let me know.

Glad to.

-Ah, the funeral baked meats!

-HE CHUCKLES

Guggums! I'm in mourning!

I'm sorry, guggums.

You do see, don't you?

It doesn't look well for a single man not to be in France.

People don't understand I'm doing vital war work.

No...yes!

-And now that I'm married I can keep...

-Out of the trenches

..keep my post at the department.

Clever guggums!

To my dear husband.

-To my wife.

-GLASSES CLINK

I'm going to be working in London too.

I've got a job as a school games mistress.

To games...and mistresses!

Guggums!

Tactless!

Ignore him.

Excuse me.

SHE BREATHES DEEPLY

First class ticket, one way single to Waterloo.

Hand this in to the RAMC Duty Officer.

-He'll take over.

-Sir.

HE SNIFFS AND EXHALES

Would you mind telling me what actually happened to you?

Something burst near me in the dark.

I don't remember what I did.

I remember being in the casualty clearing station

not knowing my name.

Your friends were dropping bombs on the hospital huts.

You might not call them my friends.

I still wear my St Anthony to...look after you.

See?

I beg your pardon.

One gets into a loose way of speaking.

Then some people carried pieces of a nurse into the hut.

Oh, Christopher...

You cannot possibly conceive of the quantity of explosives

the armies throw at each other for each man killed.

The shells make a continuous noise,

sometimes like an enormous machine breaking apart.

Other times they come whistling towards you

in a thoughtful sort of a way,

and then go, "Crump!" and the screw-cap flies off,

hurtling through the air, screaming.

There's one kind of shell

which comes with a crescendo like an express train, only faster.

Another kind makes a noise like tearing calico,

louder and louder.

The largest kind of the ones which burst in the sky

make a double crack,

like wet canvas being shaken out by a giant.

Such immense explosions to kill

such...small, weak animals.

-I have to report to a tin hut on Ealing Common.

-No, lie down.

No, no, no! It's true!

The War Office now has an outpost at Ealing.

I don't care.

I'm have to go to the Camp Depots.

They want me to give lectures to soldiers...

I'm so fond of you and Christopher.

Who, thank God, I hear is safe.

He was not wounded, luckily, only concussed.

Thank you, Lady Glorvina.

Well, a fresh start, then.

I'll give you an address

where you can buy hand-knitted socks and mittens

to present as your own work

to some charity for distribution to our soldiers.

I'll do nothing of the sort!

What an idea!

The idea, Sylvia, is for you to engage

in an act of public patriotism, to offset your exploits

with the Esterhazys and Grunwald-Merkses,

which have pretty well done for Christopher!

Do you mean to say those unspeakable swine

think I'm pro-German because I sent toffees..?

It's Christopher that suffers.

He hasn't got on the way a man of his brilliance should have got on.

A friend of his came to see me.

A Mr Ruggles, he's something about the court.

He came to ask me whether something might be done for Christopher.

"It's almost as if Christopher has a black mark against him."

That's how Mr Ruggles put it.

And I'm the black mark, I suppose.

Do you know Major Drake?

Gerald Drake?

I used to.

Before my marriage. Why?

He's an intelligence officer.

Major Drake told Ruggles he's marked Christopher's file,

"Not to be entrusted with confidential work".

Christopher is the last decent man in England.

How dare they put their knife into him!

He's mine!

There's an Irish priest caught spying for the enemy.

His trial was kept secret.

Father Consett, almost part of the family.

-Let's see...

-On a train coming down from Scotland.

Lady Claudine saw them, so did General Campion.

Brownlie painted an unpretty picture.

The money his mother left him must have gone mostly

to set her up with MacMaster.

God only knows what arrangement they make over her.

What else?

Sylvia's son is probably

the result of an affair before her marriage.

A man who's a member here.

Good God!

I'm sorry to put all this on you,

but you want to know, I suppose?

Go on.

And then, of course,

Christopher took her back after the Perowne business.

Broke his mother's heart.

Ruggles says Christopher's willing to sell his wife

for money or favours.

I kept him short.

I let him go to the devil.

As for his career, he's written off as more or less a French spy.

But at least they're our allies.

The worser part is, he got mixed up with a young woman,

apparently a pacifist suffragette type.

Gilbert Wannop's daughter.

My God!

Christopher and...?

At least five people told Ruggles

that he gave the girl a bastard before the war.

That's enough.

And Groby will go to a Papist's child

from the wrong side of the blanket.

That's bitter, and I don't mind saying.

We've held Groby in the English church through ten reigns,

and I let it slip.

Father...

I...

SHOT FIRES

SHOT FIRES

PHONE RINGS

PHONE RINGS

Do you see, Michael?

He wasn't a man to leave a wounded rabbit the wrong side of a hedge.

The Riding will turn out for the old boy.

I'm not expecting much out of town.

When grandfather died, half the club came up.

I'd take it kindly if you'd include Mrs Wannop in the lunch party.

Ashtray, Jenkins.

Will the inquest be straightforward?

Why shouldn't it be?

A dozen farmers die the same way every year,

dragging a gun through a hedge

with the safety off.

You'd agree?

Your new novel is in Hatchard's window.

I haven't read it yet.

Can't concentrate.

I had the stuffing knocked out of me.

My book won't rescue me from journalism.

I've got to write an article about war babies

and the girls left holding them.

"The shame of our soldiers and sailors".

The trouble is, there are no more babies than there were before,

so I'm stuck.

It must be that half the men are twice as reckless

because they may be killed,

and half are twice as conscientious for the same reason.

Oh, you darling man! You've just saved me!

HE CHUCKLES My mind must be coming back!

Yes!

The new book has got me an invitation

to one of MacMaster's tea parties.

Will you come with me?

Ah. It is entirely possible that I may not.

Valentine, dear!

Mr Tietjens.

I knew you were back, of course.

-Mrs Tietjens must be...

-Yes.

..very...

-Um...I thought you were at...

-Friday is my free afternoon.

I'm just home to change, to meet Mrs Duchemin off her train...

-You still pour tea for MacMaster? I thought now...

-I do, yes.

I'm very glad you're...

Yes. Thank you.

Well, I'd better be getting back to work. Um...

Mmm.

Mrs Cumfit, have you met my little white mouse?

SHE GIGGLES Oh, how lovely!

Rudi!

-Rudi, we are so looking forward to your next!

-Thank you.

A striking advance, Mrs Wannop.

Not only on your last book,

but, dare I say, on Arnold Bennett's next!

Oh, do, do come and hear Miss Delamare tell us

about her triumph as Phedre in New York!

You too, Mr Whipple!

And they kept calling it, "Fedder!"

-"I saw your Fedder, Miss Delamere!"

-THEY GIGGLE

It sounded slightly improper!

So brave of you to go.

One must for art.

ROOM HUSHES

Sylvia...

..allow me.

Welcome, welcome.

Mrs Duchemin, my wife, Sylvia Tietjens.

A pleasure! An absolute pleasure!

Vinnie, of course, you know.

Sylvia.

Allow me to introduce Miss Delamere.

A true artist and, I like to think, a great friend.

Is that Mrs Wannop?

Yes.

Oh...

You're Mrs Wannop!

The great writer!

I'm Christopher Tietjens' wife.

Well, you're the most beautiful creature!

Come along, sit down!

I'm longing to talk to you.

Oh, indeed, indeed, Mrs Tietjens.

-If you would like to sit here.

-No, no! Mrs Wannop can sit there.

Come along. There we are.

Now we can talk.

Your mother is having a regular triumph.

You're quite gay today.

You sound different.

I suppose you're better?

I still forget names,

but a small part of my mathematical brain came back to life.

I worked out a silly little equation.

What did you work out?

Oh, I looked over a problem of MacMaster's,

really in a spirit of bravado, and the answer just came.

You...

do you really want to know?

Of course!

The French were bleating about the devastation in bricks and mortar

they've incurred by enemy action.

I saw it was no more than one year's peace-time dilapidation

spread over the whole country.

-How wonderful.

-So the argument for French command

of the Western Front gets kicked out of court for a season.

But weren't you arguing against your own convictions?

Yes, of course. But MacMaster depends on me.

THEY LAUGH

Oh, Christopher!

These boys have got a motor.

They're going to drive me to the Basils.

All right. As soon as Mrs Wannop has had enough,

I'll pop her in the Tube

and I'll pick you up.

-KNOCK AT DOOR

-Yes?

Thank you.

Evidently an oversight, my lord.

Who?

Tietjens!

To his club...

and the officers' mess.

Perhaps a letter to Mr Tietjens?

No, send them back. Bounce them.

My lord?

Send them back now. Within the hour.

Got you!

Not that we set much store by these things,

but the King is seeing fit to confer a knighthood on Vincent.

Oh! Edith, how lovely!

I'm sure he deserves it.

It's not for mere plodding.

But for a special piece of brilliance

that marked him out at the office.

Oh, I know! He worked out some calculation

to prove that French war damage amounts to no more

than a normal year's peace time dilapidation spread over...

How did you..? How could you possibly know that?!

It's a dead secret!

Vincent must have told that fellow!

Your...your...

no, it wouldn't be Tietjens. He's no patriot.

-Gray's Inn, please.

-Though he is in uniform, Edith.

What on earth do you dare mean?

You may as well know, there's not a more discredited man in London.

You have personal interests at stake.

In our position now, we cannot connive at your intrigue.

Intrigue? What can you mean?

You brazen...you've had a child by that man, haven't you?!

No, I certainly have not!

Oh, let's not, Edith!

For your own sake, remember you are a woman

and not for ever and always a snob.

You were a good woman once,

and you stuck by your mad husband for quite a long time...

Stop, stop, stop!

Get out!

Get out!

Thank you.

DOORBELL RINGS

Oh, Val?

Er...can you hang on?

Telegram for Wannop.

Thank you.

PHONE RINGS

Oh, Edward's safe! He's on shore!

Oh, thank God!

I must give that boy a sixpence!

'Hello?'

-Can you ask if Christopher's there.

-Is Mr Tietjens at home?

Young woman,

you'd better keep off the grass.

Mrs Duchemin is already my husband's mistress.

'So, KEEP OFF.'

You have probably mistaken the person you're speaking to.

'Perhaps you will ask Mr Tietjens

'to ring up Mrs Wannop when he's at liberty.'

My husband is going out to war tomorrow.

He will be at the War Office at 4.15.

He will speak to you there.

But I'd keep off the grass if I were you.

SYLVIA HANGS UP

Is Mrs Duchemin really your mistress?

Or only MacMaster's?

Or both?

She's been Mrs MacMaster for six months.

There's a party tonight to announce it.

What about that girl you were potty about at that horrible tea party?

Has she had a war baby by you?

Everyone says she's your mistress too.

No, Miss Wannop is not my mistress.

It upset Brownie so much,

he's going to refuse your cheques just to please me.

Ah.

Do bankers do that, just to please their women friends?

I told him it wouldn't please me at all.

It's all the fault of this beastly war, isn't it?

Turning decent people into squits.

Yes, that's what it is.

Well, I've no right to put a spoke in that girl's wheel, or yours.

If you love each other,

I dare say she'll make you happy.

I could wangle you out of going back.

Thank you.

But I prefer to go.

-Oh, Chrissie! He didn't!

-He did.

The club and my officers' mess bill.

But if you needed money...

I didn't.

My account was overdrawn for a few hours yesterday

because my pay slip from the Army was late.

Brownie will say so. I'll make sure.

No, the damage is done.

Besides, I don't much care.

But...this means your ruin!

It almost certainly means my ruin.

Oh, Christopher!

If you had once in our lives said to me,

"You whore! You bitch!"

or about the child, or Perowne...

..you might have done something to bring us together.

And I daresay, if you're shot...

Christ...

Between the saddle and the ground,

you'll say that you never did a dishonourable action.

In the name of the Almighty, how could any woman live beside you?

But I never disapproved of your actions.

I'm done for you.

I'm not going to listen to you.

You were let down at the beginning by a brute.

So you have the right to let down a man.

It's woman against man.

Now and ever has been.

Mark is going to walk me to the War Office.

What have you done with the brass your mother left you?

I settled half on Michael.

The rest I spent on the flat.

Furniture, my wife's rooms,

some notional loans to people.

MacMaster?

I suppose his wife IS your mistress?

No.

I backed him just because he asked.

If a lot of fellows knew that, you wouldn't have much brass for long.

I didn't have it for long.

Did you settle money on the girl who had a child by you?

I haven't got any girl.

There's no child.

I live on my pay.

You had a cheque dishonoured at the club this morning.

You'd better look over my pass books

for the last ten years.

This is no good if you don't believe what I say.

Then Ruggles is a liar.

Not really.

He picked up things said against me. I don't know why.

Because you treat these south country swine

with the contempt they deserve.

I thought you'd been buried in their muck so long...

Well, you'd better know what our father wanted.

His idea was, if you were a pimp,

you were to go to Hell on clean money, whatever it took.

No good making a will. I was to see to it.

Well, you won't be a penny poorer for me.

I won't take his money.

You usually forgive a fellow who shoots himself.

I don't.

I won't forgive him for not making a will, for calling in Ruggles,

for not talking to me in the club the night before he died.

-That was stupidity.

-I called in Ruggles, though.

I don't forgive you either. The whole damn lot of you.

Oh, keep your shirt on!

You must take enough to be comfortable.

Groby will come to you anyway, if you don't get killed.

I don't want it.

And I loathe your buttered-toast, mutton-chopped comfort

as much as I loathe the chauffeured fornicators

in their town and country palaces.

My Marie-Leonie makes better buttered toast

than you can get at the Savoy,

and keeps herself neat and clean on 500 a year.

I'd marry the doxy if she weren't a Papist.

We've seen the last of England.

The professional army that saw us through the last hundred years

is every man of them dead,

and civilisation has gone to war in their place.

We're all barbarians now.

Look at this horror! And you in that uniform!

Miss Wannop.

This is my brother, Mark.

I didn't know Mr Tietjens had a brother.

-How do you do?

-How do you do.

I must speak with you, and then I'm going.

Is Edith your mistress?

Certainly not.

How could you ask such a tomfool question?

You!

Don't you know me?

Your wife said, "Mrs Duchemin is my husband's mistress,

"so keep off the grass!"

Isn't she a truthful person?

She believes what she says,

but she only believes what she wants to believe,

and only for that moment.

So it isn't true.

I knew it wasn't.

Come along.

I've have to get my movement order, then I'm free.

I can't come with you crying like this!

Oh, yes, you can. This is the place where women cry.

Besides, there's Mark. He's a comforting ass.

-Oh, am I?

-Here, look after Miss Wannop.

-HE PATS SEAT

-Look here!

My father wanted your mother to be comfortable.

I'm here on business.

You may take it as if my father left your mother a nice little plum,

so that she could write books.

Say, a lump sum giving her an annuity of £500.

Does that sound right?

There'll be a bit for you, something for your brother...

You haven't fainted, have you?

I don't faint.

I cry.

That's all right.

I want Christopher to have somewhere to have a mutton shop,

and armchair by the fire.

Someone who's good for him.

You're good for him.

I'm going to see about Christopher.

I think I can get him into

looking after transport.

It's a safe job. Safe-ish.

No beastly glory about it.

Do be quick, then! Do get him into transport at once!

-Come on, let's get out of this.

-I'm going in to see General Haggard.

I suppose you won't shake hands?

No. Why should I?

Oh, do!

You might get killed. You might think, while you're getting killed,

"Oh, God! If only, I'd..."

Or I might wish I had not.

But...

..oh, well.

Will you be my mistress tonight?

I'm going out at 8:30 tomorrow from Waterloo.

Yes! Yes, of course I will!

Where?

I'll give MacMaster's party a miss.

No, no, you must go.

Come late. After 11 is best.

I'll be at home. We'll have to be quiet, though.

We'll be quiet.

I tell you...

from the first moment...

I know!

When did you..?

My colours are in the mud.

It's not a good thing to find oneself living

by an outmoded code of conduct.

People take you to be a fool.

I'm coming round to their opinion.

But we were in a carpenter's vice.

It was like being pushed together.

Every minute since the first moment, I've waited.

Oh, my dear!

A great thing, his knighthood.

Dining at the club tonight?

No. I have resigned.

The membership committee...well, the Duke, actually...

well, your wife, in fact...

..anyway, your resignation has not been accepted.

-I understand I have to thank you.

-Oh, Brownlie begged -

begs - to have the honour of your continuing to draw on his bank.

For that, too.

-Are you leaving?

-Yes.

I have an engagement.

Darling, could you please...

one moment, please!

One moment!

-Ah, MacMaster, finally...

-Excuse me, excuse me!

Excuse me! Forgive me, please!

Chrissie!

Chrissie!

Chrissie!

Wait!

You're not going?

I...

I wanted to explain.

This...miserable knighthood...

That's all right, old man.

We've been pals long enough for a little thing like that not...

I'm very...glad for you.

Truly.

And Valentine?

It's all right. She's at another party.

I'm going on.

Tell her...

..you may be killed,

I beg you to believe, I will never,

never abandon her.

Yes.

Well...

Well.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

GATE OUTSIDE OPENS

-Valentine!

-Edward.

HE LAUGHS

Meet my friends, meet my friends!

-Hello!

-Hello.

DRUNKEN SINGING FROM INSIDE HOUSE

The trains...

DRUNKEN SINGING CONTINUES

Ah.

It does make one believe in something.

I'm so sorry, Miss Wannop.

I suppose we are the sort...

..that do not.

But when you come back.

That night we drove through the mist five years ago,

you said I'd never take you to Groby.

And I never will.

I can't live at Groby with you.

A trollop from the servants' hall to scandalise the parson,

that would be understood, but not...

not you.

I'll be ready.

I'll be ready for anything you ask.

Oh, my dear!

Come back.

Gray's Inn.

Walk on!

Oh, don't tell me you didn't..?!

You didn't, did you?

Let's not quarrel now.

There's something I've decided about.

Don't you dare tell me it was for my sake!

Oh, she was ready to drop into your mouth like a grape!

-SHE SHOUTS

-How could you be such a skunk?

I have to pack my things for France.

Oh, you might as well!

Couldn't you bring yourself to seduce that little kitchen maid?!

There'd have been a chance for us.

I've decided about Michael.

If I must to the greenwood go...

Do you mean it?

I may bring up Michael as a Catholic?

A Roman Catholic. You'll teach him, please, to use that term.

But I am obviously not the man

to have charge of the future master of Groby.

-I am not a whole man any more.

-When did you..?

When my cheques were dishonoured.

-No! It was only that squit!

-But I let it happen.

My father believed the squits, too, but I let that happen.

A man who can't do better than that

had better let the mother bring up the child.

I loved the little beggar with all my soul

from the first moment I saw him.

Perhaps that's the secret.

I thank God that he has softened your heart.

You're to have Father...

..F-Father...

HE SLAMS DOWN BAG

Not my heart, my brain!

-Father Consett.

-Consett!

An intelligent priest.

He'll teach as much sense as nonsense.

Father Consett was hanged.

They dared not put it in the papers

because he was a priest,

and all the witnesses were Ulstermen.

And yet I may not say

this is an accursed war.

You may for me.

On no account

is Mrs Tietjens to be allowed

within 50 miles of Rouen.

UTTER nonsense!

I cannot have men commanded by an officer

with a private life as incomprehensible

and embarrassing as yours!

I'm a woman desperately trying to get her husband back.

But you wouldn't be a pacifist if your sweetheart was in the war,

-would you, Miss?

-More than ever, of course.

Have you got a sweetheart in the war, Miss?

I haven't had a man, Christopher, for five years.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd