The Confessions of Frannie Langton (2022) s01e01 Episode Script

Follow me.
What is this?
Here she is.
What's going on?
Expecting us?
- Madame?
- Get up.
- Madame, wake up.
- Get up!
Our Father who art in heaven
What do you want with me?
Get yourself downstairs now.
- thy kingdom come.
- Why?
- thy will be done.
- You know why.
on earth as it is in heaven.
Madame?
- No, no, no, no.
- She's dead.
They're both dead.
Your mistress and your master, too.
No!
Which you well know, since
it's you who killed 'em.
FRANNIE SOBS
No, you can't be dead.
- Please wake up.
- Come on!
No!
Look at what you've done.
VOICES CLAMOUR
What have you done to her?
I told her.
I warned her.
What have you done to her?
Though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death
I shall fear no evil,
for thou art with me.
Got the twitches, have you?
Take it off, then.
LOW HUM OF CHATTER
DOOR SLAMS
LOCK CLICKS
It won't rub off.
Now that you know, I'll thank you
to keep your hands to yourself.
WOMAN: Who do you think you are?
Remember
DIALOGUE DROWNED OUT BY MUSIC
Miss Langton. Miss Langton!
Miss Langton.
Ah, Miss Langton, William Pettigrew.
I'm your brief. Do you
know what one of those is?
I have not instructed you.
The Society has taken
an interest in your case.
- The scientists or the do-gooders?
- What difference does it make?
So I'll know whether you want
to tame me or to rescue me.
WILLIAM CHUCKLES
Tell them you will speak with me.
Double murder is a hanging
offence, Miss Langton.
Do you have anyone else?
It's going to be difficult
for you to do your lawyering,
if you're not even prepared
to be in the same room as me.
HE SIGHS
Your reputation precedes you.
A-ah. If you start guzzling
this damned drug now,
I'll be unlikely to get any sense
out of you for quite some time.
I guarantee laudanum will
be more use to me than law.
Well, I shall do my best to
provide a useful quantity of both.
But first, I need some information.
I don't know what happened.
You were arrested in
your mistress's bed.
It's where I slept.
It's where I always slept.
I didn't know she was dead.
I loved her
and she loved me.
You loved her?
Love isn't what you were expecting.
Fucking, maybe.
But not love.
I can't help you unless you give
me something to help you with.
I was sleeping.
And so was she.
That's all I remember.
I'm sorry.
Tell me what happened
before you went to sleep.
She wasn't well.
She wasn't up to hosting.
But Mr Benham wanted a party.
He insisted on it.
Whenever he said jump,
everyone in that house said, "How high?"
So, she went.
And then?
- Then
- GLASS BREAKS
she and I had a
a set-to.
A set-to?
This is death.
There's a rather long list of witnesses
claiming you threatened the Benhams
last night in front of their guests.
Who? Who is saying that?
They've got a statement
from the victim's cousin.
Miss Hephzibah Elliot.
She's saying you formed an unnatural
attachment to your mistress.
- Then there's Mr Olaudah Cambridge?
- Him?
Ask him where he was when she was dying.
And the housekeeper says you
had to be locked in the attic
after threatening the mistress.
This is death!
I didn't threaten them.
You think George Benham
was some kind of god?
Some great scientist,
England's finest mind.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please pay no attention.
He had you all fooled.
Well, that's quite a thing to say
about the man who took
you in, gave you shelter.
You don't know a thing about him.
Didn't he take you in
when John Langton brought
you here from Jamaica?
I've been told he sent
you into service with him.
John Langton did not
send me into service.
He GAVE me to George Benham.
I will play no part in
slandering George Benham.
There won't be a juror in England
who'd be persuaded by it anyway.
Maybe I could set up a
proper argument in mitigation.
I think we should weave
your own history into it.
What does my history
have to do with this?
The fact that you were
enslaved in Jamaica.
We can use your background
to your advantage.
You want a slave story?
I can only imagine what
you must have suffered.
You are making assumptions.
The effects of the
environment you were raised in.
That horrible institution.
You were inculcated in violence.
You want me to say I did it?
We could run it alongside
another argument.
You were intoxicated,
so addled by laudanum,
you weren't aware what you were doing.
We could find a doctor
willing to swear to it.
- You have it all decided already.
- I'm trying to help you.
The thing you need to
understand, Mr Pettigrew
is that I'm fed
up of people like you
deciding who I am, or what I am,
as soon as you take one look at me.
And I will not confess to something
I don't believe I have done.
FRANNIE: This is my story.
And it's a story of love,
though everyone expected
it to be a story of murder.
In truth, no-one ever expects
any kind of story from a woman like me.
No doubt you're thinking
this will be just another
one of those slave histories,
all sugared over with
misery and despair.
It won't be
because if you don't know by now
what went on in all of
those West India estates,
then you haven't been paying attention.
This isn't a story about that.
What took you so long?
This is a story about me.
I hope you made sure
it was hot this time.
Good girl.
Hmm.
- Make sure my papers are in order.
- They're in order.
Don't worry.
I want to take them to George
as soon as we get off this fucking ship.
To who?
Son of a bitch thinks he
can just toss me aside.
You're going to Benham's house?
- You're going, too.
- SOFTLY: No.
That man's house is the last
place on Earth I want to set foot.
Go on your own.
Get dressed.
HE GRUNTS
No. The green.
HE GRUNTS AND GROANS SHARPLY
HE PANTS
I don't want to go there.
You will go where I tell you.
Wait here.
No-one would believe that I
was the one who followed him.
That I didn't run as soon
as I set foot on English soil.
But what would I do? Where would I go?
Be very careful with this one.
Come.
Sir.
This won't end well. It won't.
It did not end well with the
boy, yet here we are again.
- Where do you think you're going?
- I beg your pardon?
She's impudent.
That will have to change.
- Go with her.
- How long will you be?
DOOR SLAMS
Langton, I thought
I'd made myself clear?
My house burned down.
Where else did you think I would go?
I'll take the girl.
But you must find somewhere
else to lay your head.
Don't worry about me.
Whatever association we may
have had, Langton, is at an end.
Just read it.
First thing you will
do is scrub your hands.
Is this how your guests are treated?
SHE SCOFFS
I suppose you'll soon learn
how our guests are treated,
but for now you'll learn
how our hands are treated.
Kettle. Hot water.
Soap.
Wash yourself. If you know how.
I will not abide strange smells.
I won't make any.
Oh, pity's sake. Where
do you think you're going?
Let me quote Locke,
in the hope that his words
might drill through to you,
"Whatever I write, as soon as
I discover it not to be true,
my hand shall be forwardest
to throw it into the fire."
How dare you.
Whatever happened to
the little albino boy?
Another casualty of your fire?
You shall not roam the
house at will, girl.
You shall learn to do as you are bid.
- The albino was the last straw.
- It was your idea!
Gentlemen, I do beg your pardon,
she would not settle downstairs.
Langton, I am treated
like a servant here.
You are a servant here.
- SHOUTS: Charles.
- What?
Do not embarrass me.
- You're leaving?
- And you're staying.
I'm not staying here.
I am not staying here!
- Langton!
- I said do not embarrass me.
It's a havey-cavey
business if you ask me.
Tipping a woman onto a man's doorstep.
No-one ever asks me.
You people think you can just come here
and snatch the bread from
an Englishman's mouth.
Is he coming back?
I like this arrangement
even less than you do.
But we serve a common master now.
Mr Benham is our superintendent,
just as God is his.
There are many English girls
who would give their eye-teeth
to serve as housemaid to George Benham.
No
Enough.
Follow me.
You will sleep in the scullery.
I will not take any chances on you
roaming the house while we sleep.
No-one will force you, girl.
We don't deal in that
kind of savagery here.
You must make your own choices.
LATCH JANGLES
BANGS ON DOOR
Hello.
Open this door!
FRANNIE BANGS ON DOOR
Hello?
Let me out!
Door's unlocked.
If she'd quieten down for just
one minute, then she'd see
that there is quite simply
no need for all this fuss.
Porridge is under the fire cover.
The yellow bowl on the table
has been set aside for you.
Don't use any of the others.
Do you know how to use a spoon?
Are you serious?
You will address me as ma'am.
I am well aware of the
customs of English dining.
Ma'am.
There's a rushlight for you there.
Make that one last the month.
Soap you'll get on the same schedule.
Change into that.
I've never seen a
blacky this close before.
The little Black boy
was here before my time.
Did you really not know he
was going to leave you here?
That must have been a shock.
Quite the chatterbox, aren't you?
I suppose it's good you are quiet,
after the fuss you made last night.
I can't stay here.
I can't.
You should try to just
get on with things.
Any house can be strange at first,
but you get used to it, don't you?
Give no bother and you'll get none.
You'll get your wages at
Michaelmas, same as the rest of us.
Every second Sunday off for church.
And the master's kind enough.
As for Madame she's very beautiful,
but French which Mrs Linux
can never forgive her for.
Each of them on their own is fine.
It's marriage that seems to
bring out the worst in them.
He can never be exciting enough for her,
but she can never be tame
enough for him Frances.
All over the Almack's.
Not even discreet.
Morning, ma'am Madame.
And you are?
The new girl, ma'am. From the Indies.
Frances Langton.
Hm, I see.
Meg, come along.
Something new at last
in this old boneyard.
And how are you finding us, Frances?
A shock.
SHE GIGGLES
I suppose we are, aren't we?
Milton.
You know of it?
"The mind is its own place,
and in itself can make
a heaven of hell "
BOTH: " a hell of heaven."
DOOR CLOSES
And the tinderboxes are kept in here.
"The African is sly.
Lascivious, lazy.
What would such a
person do with freedom?
Freeing them would only put
the devil in their heads."
Where did you get that?
You know very well where I got it.
What are you doing
going through my things?
Your Mr Langton wrote this?
"Furthermore, we can prove,
using the scientific method,
that the negro is
well-suited to the work
he's been given in the West Indies.
He is contented with it.
He neither needs, nor
desires to be freed.
And the limits of any man's achievements
lie at the limits of his desire."
Eat it, since you want to read it.
Langton's girl.
Stay.
Sir?
I'd like a word with you.
It was my idea, you
know, your education.
To see if we could make an
English schoolboy out of you.
Only we spared you the
flogging and the fagging.
You did not spare me anything.
Perhaps Langton didn't.
And I wish I'd known what he'd
been up to in that regard
but please, take a seat.
Now, our original intention
was to engage in a study
of the natural mental endowments
of each race of men, that was all.
But
Langton, he was the one
experimenting on human beings.
I was sponsoring him
for science not savagery.
And now that he's here,
my name is being dragged
into all of the gossip and
speculation concerning him alone.
I told him repeatedly not to come here.
- He took it too far
- SPEECH FADES
Until I sat face to face with him,
it hadn't occurred to me
that he would simply lie.
That he would pretend he had no idea
what Langton had been doing,
that he had not been the
one who put him up to it.
I want to know everything
that happened there.
Every last thing.
The truth.
I was his scribe.
That's all.
But, of course, I was lying, too.
Mm-hm.
You want me to confess Langton's sins?
Oh, I think we both know a thing
or two about man's imperfections.
About atonement?
Very well.
While you're here, would you mind
taking down your hair?
What?
Not that. What do you take me
for? I only want to study it.
For so many years, I told myself
that if my path ever crossed
his, I'd make sure he felt it.
And then my courage failed
me when I had the chance.
May I?
All that I had been through at Paradise.
All that I had done
had been because of George Benham.
Ten and a half.
Had been because he had
pulled Langton's strings.
And then to find myself in his house,
having to sit there
while he toyed with me.
You know, I think we
should speak frankly.
It would assist us both.
It was, at times
more than I could bear.
DOOR OPENS AND SLAMS SHU
FLASHBACK: Can this last?
Run away with me, please.
Become your own woman.
KEYS JANGLE
Frannie.
What have you done to yourself?
Sal?
Oh, my sweet girl.
Me bring you this.
You going to have to look presentable
when them take you to court.
And me bring you this for now.
Sal was always rescuing me,
this time was no different.
If there was anyone who could bring
me comfort at my lowest point
- Let me see.
- it was her.
Oh, beautiful.
Sal
What am I going to do?
Oh, come here.
We could start by fixing your hair.
What's wrong with my hair?
Sorry.
What me tell you?
Something like this was
bound to 'appen to that man.
Him finally get what him deserve.
I would a told you to kill
all two of them long time.
If I thought you had it in you.
One ting I know for sure
hell would have to freeze
over before you could kill her.
We argued, Sal.
Just before their guests arrived.
I said some truly awful things.
A foolishness ya talk.
You never kill anybody.
And where you get that?
Thank you for my hair.
Me come here to help ya and
you not even help yourself.
You just a slipped right back
into that poison. Ku paan yuh.
Frannie, no more of this. You hear me?
You have to try to remember.
You have to think.
We have to fight this.
Please, Frannie, please.
Or them are gon' kill you.
She's dead, Sal.
They are going to kill me.
And no amount of love
talk goin' help you.
Maybe.
But I have nothing left.
It's all I have.
It's all I had.
It's all I wanted.
DOOR OPENS, CLOSES
Are you just going to stand there?
Ma'am, I beg your pardon. Madame.
Please don't "ma'am" me.
You're a writer?
Writer?
SCOFFS
I'm a wife.
My husband would say
that is occupation enough
for any wife of his.
But you're making notes.
I find it hard to read
without scribbling my
own thoughts alongside.
I do that, too.
I think everyone should be
prescribed a poem a day, don't you?
Though Byron here is proof,
if ever it were needed,
that a man is merely
spoiled by his vices
while a woman is soiled by hers.
I've always wanted to write. Hmm.
Not such a straightforward
ambition for a woman.
No.
I think that men write to separate
themselves from the common history.
Women write to try to join it.
SHE CHUCKLES
English maids are not so
well-spoken as you are.
Nor as well-read.
FOOTSTEPS APPROACH
What do you think you're doing?
Did I not tell you to
be seen and not heard?
Surely I can decide who I wish
to see or hear in my
own house, Mrs Linux?
The girl was only
answering my questions.
And while we're at it,
I think I should dictate
the sleeping arrangements
in my own house also.
I'm sure there is more than enough room
for Frances upstairs with Prudence.
As you wish.
In any event, it was you
I came to see, Madame.
You've not responded to
my inquiries this morning.
That is why I came up.
Your inquiries are tiresome.
That is why I did not come down.
I thought perhaps Prudence
had not delivered my messages.
She did.
Very well.
There is still the
matter of the portrait.
The master is wondering
why it is back on display.
- I put it back.
- By yourself?
He made the boy disappear
and now he wants the
painting to disappear also.
Be that as it may, Mrs Benham,
this sort of thing is not
so much in vogue now, is it?
I have asked Charles to see to it.
Thought I'd give you fair warning.
- PRUDENCE: this afternoon.
- MAN: Delicious.
- I was worried I'd made it too dry again.
- It's very nice.
- Don't get up. Please.
- I beg your pardon.
Were we disturbing you, madam?
Oh, no. Mr Casterwick, please, do go on.
I'm sure I won't be
playing what you're used to.
It's the violin, Mr Casterwick.
Whatever you play will be a lament.
Where is Mr Benham?
Your husband, Madame?
Your guess is as good
as mine, Mrs Linux.
Trying to locate the master
of this house after nightfall
is a fool's errand.
It's Madeira, Madame.
Baked this afternoon.
Shall I have Prudence
bring you up a slice?
We should have a dance.
Why not? Our own little kitchen ball.
Come on, Charles, move the chairs.
Allez. Hurry up. Vite, vite.
Now, Mr Casterwick, might you
have something a little less, er
funeral-like in your repertoire?
Certainly, ma'am.
HE PLAYS A JAUNTY TUNE
Frances? We're a man short.
You or I must play the breeches role.
I'll count, don't worry.
Now round!
And change.
Arm.
Now come here.
MEG SHRIEKS
BREATHLESS: Good night.
Love didn't do a ting for you back then,
and it will do even less for you now.
They are going to say
I'm a murderer anyway.
Sal
A thief.
A whore.
How can I fight it?
If they point the finger at me,
who's going to believe someone
else could have done it?
I have done many terrible
things. You know that, Sal.
I have been many terrible things.
But I was hers also.
They cannot tell me what I feel.
Neither can you.
It wasn't just love.
It was all the things WE
aren't supposed to feel.
Need, want, anger too.
Anger and want.
Equal as butter and
sugar in a pound cake.
I let myself want something.
And I let myself imagine
she might want it, too.