Bleak House (2005) s01e02 Episode Script

Krook! Krook! Come up here and bring a light with you.
Do you hear me, man? Yes, sir.
Mr Tulkinghorn, sir.
What's the matter with him now? Er, just coming, Mr Tulkinghorn.
You let your candle go out, did you, Mr Tulkinghorn? Here y'are.
Take a light from this one.
That'll be all, then? No.
Look there, man.
Well.
Bless my soul.
Dead as a doornail.
Cold as stone.
There's money here.
Two pounds six and four pence.
That's mine.
Leave it.
Six weeks' rent.
.
.
and sundries.
He meant that for me.
Didn't leave no note, though.
Nothing.
Let's see what he's got in the trunk.
Nothing but rags, Mr Tulkinghorn.
Send for the doctor, man, and quick about it.
Very well, Mr Tulkinghorn.
Whatever you say.
You! Boy! Fetch a doctor.
Come on! Quick about it.
Now! Now this, this is your life-line.
See? Where I trace it.
It's very long and quite straight.
Is that good? It's very good indeed.
This, this is your love-line.
See? It's a long one, too.
And deep, very deep.
Some fellow's gonna be very lucky.
I hope he deserves you, Ada.
Do Esther's now.
No, thank you.
I don't wish to have my fortune told.
I was told my fortune a long time ago.
What's this? Richard's been telling fortunes, sir.
Has he? And what does fortune have in store for you, Rick? Make my own way in life.
Well, good for you.
So, the question is, which profession will you choose? D'you know, sir, I have absolutely no idea.
I thought of going to sea.
It's a little late already for the Navy, I fear.
There's the Church or medicine? A surgeon, perhaps? A surgeon? Yeah, that's a thing, sir.
A surgeon.
Richard Carstone, MRCS.
The medical profession? Yes, Mr Skimpole.
A surgeon, I thought.
Perhaps? I was educated in the medical profession, you know, and practised it, well, for a while.
But never having had any head for detail, and a positive aversion to all that blood, I.
.
.
but don't let me discourage you.
I suppose there is a lot of blood.
I am sure doctors get used to it.
And the thought of, of helping people and making them well.
Yes.
Yes, of course.
To be sure.
He's been dead about three hours, I'd say.
Poor fellow.
Almost certainly from an overdose of opium.
Was anybody present related to him? I was his landlord.
He told me once, I was the nearest relation he had.
Nemo, he called himself.
No-one.
Well, he is no-one now.
I knew him by sight.
I prescribed opium for him once or twice, and no doubt he got a good deal more elsewhere.
You knew him, you say? Do you think he did it on purpose? Impossible to say.
You discovered the body? I did.
And what was your business with Mr Nemo? Nothing to concern you, sir.
The man was a law-writer.
I am a lawyer, sir.
This is Mr Tulkinghorn.
Lawyer to Sir Leicester Dedlock.
That is immaterial.
What is material is that here we have a dead man, apparently destitute with no relations and no connections.
We know nothing of who he was or where he has come from.
What is to happen to the body? Well, before anything else, there will have to be an inquest.
Hmm.
Gentlemen of the jury, we are here to consider a man unknown.
Nobody knows his real name, nobody has been found who knows who he was.
He left no papers behind which might identify him.
If I may say so, he was always polite and well-spoken.
I believe he was once in the Army.
Can you swear to that? No.
I, I, I.
.
.
Ah, not evidence.
Anyone else here have anything to say? (Jo.
) You, boy.
Did you know him? Never knowed his name, but he was very good to me.
Not evidence.
To continue, he left no possessions of any worth.
Nor any money, except a few shillings which he owed in rent to his landlord.
You've heard from several witnesses here that he was in the habit of taking large quantities of opium.
And you've heard from the doctor here that it was a large dose of opium that he died of.
There was no note that indicated suicidal intentions.
The doctor has told us that the deceased was.
.
.
what was the phrase you used, sir? He was careless of his life, sir.
Careless whether he lived or died, but not actively intent on self-harm.
Ah, thank you, Mr Woodcourt.
Now, if you think you've heard any evidence to lead you to the conclusion that he committed suicide, you will come to that conclusion.
If you think it is a case of accidental death, you will find a verdict accordingly.
Do you need to retire? INDISTINCT MUMBLING Accidental death, Your Honour.
Accidental death.
Thank you, gentlemen.
You are discharged.
And a pauper's burial for Mr Nemo.
Earth to Earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Yes, carry on.
You, boy.
Come here.
Here! I ain't done nothing, sir.
What do you do here? What do you know of this man? What passed between you? Nothing, sir.
I don't know nothing about him.
Except.
.
.
Except what? Except that he was very good to me.
And why should he be good to you? What good were you to him? Hmm? I don't know, sir.
Let the boy go, Mr Tulkinghorn.
You're frightening him.
I was merely enquiring what he knew of our dead friend there.
It would seem he knows nothing.
There you are, Jo.
Thank you for your trouble.
What impression did you form of Mr Nemo, sir? I thought he might be a gentleman fallen on hard times.
A gentleman? An officer, perhaps.
An officer, eh? An officer and a gentleman.
Well, well, well.
Thank you, Mr Woodcourt.
Quite the housekeeper, Esther.
Do the sums balance? Yes, sir, I think so.
I'm sure they do.
Wish I could feel so sure about young Rick, there.
He seemed to settle on doctoring without giving it a thought.
Now he's making no serious efforts to get himself a place, and so on, to read and study and.
.
.
I feel sure he'll do well.
And this wretched Chancery business, it's bad.
It's bad to live in the expectation of one day inheriting some great fortune that may never come to pass, and letting your life slip by in the process.
He hasn't let very much of his life slip by.
Not yet.
No, no, you're right.
He's an excellent young fellow.
He'll make us all proud.
And he has a good heart.
He's very patient with poor Skimpole.
I admire your energy and your dedication.
But why put yourself through it? Well, a fellow must do something.
When a fellow is a ward of Jarndyce, no need to do anything but wait for one's inheritance.
But I know nothing of such matters.
I don't know a great deal myself.
We are a pair of innocents.
But I rack my brains to understand my good friend Jarndyce.
If he thinks following a profession is such a good thing for a man, then why does he not follow one himself? Well.
.
I don't know, Mr Skimpole.
And why is the guardian of the wards in Jarndyce when he himself has an interest in the outcome of the case? Well, because he's a good man.
Kind and generous and all that.
He's been kind to you, hasn't he? Oh, indeed he has.
Take no notice of my questions.
I, I've a very weak understanding of these matters.
.
.
A child, a child.
Nearly home.
That is a great deal of correspondence you have there.
Yes.
Yes.
Nothing in it, though.
Did I not glimpse one of Mr Tulkinghorn's long effusions? You see everything, my dear.
He is the most tiresome of men.
Oh, of course, er, I beg your pardon.
He sent you a message.
Our stopping to change horses put it quite out of my head.
What was it? My dear? His message.
Ah, er, yes, of course.
Let me see "In the matter of the right of way.
.
.
" No, that's not it.
Ah, yes, here it is, yes.
"I have something to mention in reference to the person who "copied the affidavit that attracted her interest when I came to see you "some weeks ago.
"I have seen the man.
" That's the message.
I should like to walk a little.
Is that wise, my dear? Please stop the carriage.
My dear? My dear! I thought, if you wished to walk, I would walk with you.
Of course.
I'm going out, Clamb.
Oh, going out, sir.
Very good, sir.
And where shall I say you are, sir? In case anyone enquires.
Tell them you don't know, Clamb.
Right.
Very good, sir.
Rick, my boy.
Ada.
Mr Kenge is here.
Good afternoon, sir.
Is there some news about our case in Chancery? There are some papers to sign, Mr Carstone, but no news.
The law grinds very slow and very fine, you must understand.
Yes, of course.
The best is to expect nothing, then we shall never be disappointed.
An excellent philosophy, Mr Carstone.
I wish more of my clients were like you.
But Mr Kenge has news about a different matter.
My cousin, Mr Bayham Badger, is a medical man with a good practice in Chelsea, and is willing to superintend your studies in the subject.
And to take you into his household as a paying guest.
In Chelsea? In Chelsea.
Then I should have to leave Bleak House.
Well, naturally, Bleak House is a good long way from Chelsea.
Yes.
But is it not excellent news? Yes, of course.
I'm much obliged to you, Mr Kenge.
He'd come back and see us often, and we'd visit him, would we not? I propose we all take a little holiday in London and see him settled in.
DOOR OPENS How do you do, Mrs Rouncewell? I'm glad to see you.
I hope we see you in good health, Sir Leicester? Excellent health, Mrs Rouncewell.
And my lady? Quite well, thank you.
Who is that girl? A young protegee of mine, my lady.
Rosa by name.
Rosa.
I have been training her as a lady's maid.
I hope your ladyship approves of her.
Rosa.
Well, I wonder if you know how pretty you are? How old are you? 19, my lady.
Take care they don't spoil you by flattery.
Yes, my lady.
Here we are - our London lodgings.
We're not staying with the Jellybys? I won't put you through that again.
I should like to see Caddy again.
First things first.
Tonight we dine with Mr Bayham Badger.
HORSES WHINNY Hold your horses! Hold! What are you doing on my land, sir? My name is Tulkinghorn, sir.
Lawyer to Sir Leicester Dedlock.
You write me threatening letters.
I must inform you, if you are not aware of it, that this is a public right of way.
Public right of fiddlesticks.
You can tell Sir Leicester Dedlock if he blocks my way over his land, I'll block his way over mine.
I am obliged to you, sir.
Drive on! Walk on.
Is Mr Tulkinghorn come yet? No, my lady.
Not yet.
I wonder what keeps him.
My lady is anxious to see Mr Tulkinghorn? Not in the least.
That Rosa was a very pretty girl, did you not think? Very pretty, my lady, in a simple village way.
It is a way I like, Hortense.
Mrs Rouncewell has been training her up as a lady's maid.
Perhaps I shall take her on.
What would you say to that? My lady already has a lady's maid.
Well, then I shall have another, Hortense.
Delighted to welcome you into the mysteries of our profession.
Very good of you to take me on, sir.
Mr Bayham Badger is very good.
Oh, but hardly deserving of such a paragon of womanhood as Mrs Bayham Badger.
You see how good he is to me? Ooh, but I forget myself.
This is Mr Woodcourt, a young colleague who has expressed himself ready and willing to enlighten Mr Carstone concerning the.
.
.
shall we say, seamier side of our profession.
For reasons best known to himself, he has chosen to ply his trade amongst the lowest of the low.
Not exclusively - I have to live as well.
But the poor need doctors just as the rich do, I believe.
Yes, Mr Woodcourt, so do I.
Dear, dear, radical talk.
Bad for the appetite.
Bad for the digestion.
Shall we go in? My dear? If you please, Sir Leicester.
If you please, my lady.
.
.
Mr Tulkinghorn.
How do you do, Mr Tulkinghorn? We expected you before, you know.
I am much obliged, Sir Leicester.
I'd have come sooner but I have been engaged with matters in the dispute over the right of way between yourself and your neighbour, Boythorn.
And another matter concerning her ladyship.
But let it pass.
Now, as to Mr Boythorn.
.
.
My Boythorn is a man of very low character.
That may well be, Sir Leicester.
But I encountered him today and he was certainly intemperate.
But I formed the strong impression that this disagreement between you could be settled if you're prepared to consider a compromise.
Mr Tulkinghorn, my neighbour Boythorn has no rights in this matter.
My rights must be asserted absolutely.
There will be no compromise.
No meeting half-way, as you put it.
That way the floodgates are opened to chaos, disorder and anarchy.
You understand, I speak not as an individual but as head of the Dedlock family.
You need say no more, Sir Leicester.
I now have my instructions.
Will you take a little supper? By all means, Sir Leicester.
I am much obliged to you.
The girl will take you to your room.
Sir Leicester.
My lady.
Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy was Mrs Badger's first husband.
A very distinguished officer indeed.
And the name of Professor Dingo, my immediate predecessor in the nuptial couch, is one of European reputation.
I was barely 20 when I was married to Captain Swosser.
And it was on the twelfth anniversary of my wedding day that I became the wife of Professor Dingo.
Of European reputation.
Extraordinary.
And when we were married, we were married on the same day of the year.
I'd become attached to the day.
So, Mrs Badger has been married to three husbands, two of them.
.
.
Has your friend, Mr Carstone, been interested in doctoring for a long time, Miss Summerson? No.
I think it was rather a sudden decision.
He seems eager and spirited, and we need good men.
It isn't easy to get yourself established.
I struggle to make ends meet, but Mr Carstone has private means? He is one of the wards in Jarndyce.
Ada is, too.
Miss Clare, that is.
They might both inherit a large fortune one day, when it's all settled.
And you? Are you a ward in the case too or are you a ward of Mr Jarndyce? No.
No, I'm no-one of any account.
I don't think so.
You have opinions and you express them, and I like that.
Especially as you agree with me.
Please tell Mr Jarndyce what Captain Swosser used to say about you, my dear.
He used to say I was better than "land ahead" or a "breeze astern".
So if you're not Mr Jarndyce's ward, what are you? His niece, perhaps? I was engaged by Mr Jarndyce as a companion to Miss Clare.
I am Mr Jarndyce's housekeeper, too.
Really? Well, I'd say that makes you a person of some consequence.
No, not at all.
I shall never be a person of consequence.
No? Well, you'll have to allow me to disagree with you then.
But a fine head, you will agree.
Mm.
I would have been happy to have had such a head meself.
My angel.
KNOCKING ON DOOR I hope I don't disturb you.
No, please don't get up, Mr Tulkinghorn.
Do go on with your supper.
I am obliged, your ladyship.
But I've had sufficient.
Was there something your ladyship wished to ask me? You sent me a message regarding the handwriting I enquired about.
It was like you to remember the circumstance.
I had quite forgotten it.
And you really took the trouble to find the writer of that.
.
.
affidavit, was it? Yes, it was an affidavit, and I did take that trouble.
And you found him? Yes, I found him.
And how did you find him? I found him dead.
Please go on, Mr Tulkinghorn.
There's little to tell.
Oh, I was directed to his lodging, a miserable and squalid room, and I found him dead.
He had taken an overdose of opium.
Whether by design or accident, impossible to be certain.
And what kind of man was he? Hard to say.
I would have said he was the lowest of the low.
The surgeon had a notion that he might once have been something better.
And what did they call him? Nobody knew his name.
He appeared to have had no family or friends.
He went by the name of Nemo.
No-one.
Precisely.
And there was no clue to anything else? None.
I see.
Thank you, Mr Tulkinghorn.
I shan't disturb you any further.
Lady Dedlock? I have been Sir Leicester's attorney for many years, and my father was attorney to his father before him.
I am aware of that, Mr Tulkinghorn.
And Sir Leicester has always had my complete personal loyalty, and always will have.
I am glad of it.
Whatever the consequences to others.
That is just as I should hope, Mr Tulkinghorn.
Good night.
So what we got here, Lady Jane? Nice little bundle out of Nemo's trunk.
Nobody knows I got it, 'cept you and me, Lady Jane.
But what does it say? We don't know cos we can't read.
But I'd say this is a lady's hand.
I'd say this was love letters.
Smells of ladies.