Cranford (2007) s01e03 Episode Script

Cranford 3° episodio Trad.
Paulanna Rev.
AlexandraD They look very nice there.
Well done.
I wish it didn't say he was an angel.
Lizzie! He wasn't.
We never called him so! Good morning! You are all well, I hope.
Yes, thank you.
We are well enough.
It wasn't his fault, Sophy! No.
It was mine.
L Is for labour.
A source of bread and pride.
I Is for intelligence.
Which all men are born with, but must learn to use.
B Books! Which hold the key to almost everything.
E is for education.
Which will teach me how to R read them! T is for transcend.
To rise above one's circumstances.
Y Y is for you, Sir.
You paint over it now, before somebody comes.
You were not dependent upon your sister for all things, Miss Matty.
But Deborah's judgement was always so exact.
I find I defer to her even now, when I arrange a drawer or tie up preserves or must remind Martha that followers are not allowed.
Martha will not take advantage of you on that score, I am certain.
Miss Deborah might have taken charge of all your affairs at the bank, but who was it who drew up the weekly accounts? Well, I suppose it was I.
Quite.
That is not an easy task! I should fail at it altogether.
Come.
Eat your orange.
Here? Oh, Miss Matty.
Why do you not just take it to your room, as you were used to doing? Perhaps not today, my dear.
Dr Harrison? I heard a crash.
I think we have had an intruder! Oh, pray do nothing hasty! Be careful, you have no weapon with you! The mutton has gone! And the knife taken too! I very much fear it is a spy from France.
I can hardly bear to think of Dr Harrison creeping downstairs, armed.
He will have been woken from sleep, and barely had time to step into his top-boots.
Or a shirt! It was a factory hand, on the run from strikes! And he has doubtless fled the county, back to whence he came.
On a horse shod with felt! For that is what they do to make their passage silent.
Mr Johnson told me that himself.
Men! They are all the same! They know everything about everything, save when it is to happen and how it can be stopped.
My father was a man - I think I understand the sex.
I left my butler in the garden, dusting off his musket.
Dadda! This is Lady Ludlow's land.
It's all some bugger's land.
We've got mouths to feed.
I'll teach you something new.
This isn't like rabbits - no blood, no wire.
Come on.
Agh! I've agreed terms with the mail-coach driver.
Caught game's very popular down London.
Why? No lead shot in it.
Oh! CLUCKING Shh shh shh! It's probably Irish.
They'll be all over the district soon.
They're like lice.
And the opium fiends will be hot on their heels.
We shall have to put shutters on the shop, like you see in Manchester.
Maybe it's time Cranford have a police force.
We've got a Constable, name of Graves, farms at Nether Cranford.
He's got a lame leg and a bad back - he's probably on your books.
I'll have justice for this! Go on, lad.
Show your mam.
You're a good boy, Harry.
Hey, we're not done yet! Go fetch the twine - these want putting into brace.
Go on! Harry, I must make haste.
Poachers got into the pens last night and Lady Ludlow wants the keeper brought before her.
Is he in trouble? Oh, yes.
They were prize specimens.
Her Ladyship sends six brace to Chatsworth each December, with her compliments.
And now this year, she cannot.
And she is deeply angry.
Oh, and cut me some nibs when I am gone.
You know the slant I like.
Buy some clothes pegs? Clothes pegs? At Christmas? Ask your mistress, dearie.
The crime rate in Cranford is increasing.
You need to seek out those responsible.
It's only my duty to apprehend wrongdoers! I'm not obliged to go out looking for them.
That's what the Constables do in London.
Frank, this isn't London In London, the Constables get paid! If you can identify the man who robbed you, Mr Johnson, you're within your rights to bring a prosecution directly.
Simply report the culprit to Sir Charles Maulver! Well, he's the magistrate.
And then Farmer Graves can make an arrest.
I don't know who the culprit is! He came up on me from behind! Miss Pole! What's going on? I have gathered up my silver, we must flee! The crimes are escalating! I answered the door myself, since you had been gone such an unconscionable time, and the most abominable gypsy was there and she mistook me for my own servant and tried to push past me, shouting out "I must speak with the mistress!" I've gone cold.
Oh, shush! We must remain stoical and display calm common sense.
Mrs Jamieson has rooms to spare and she possesses a butler with a musket.
Who goes there? Show yourselves, you lousy thieving cowards.
Make yourself known to Mrs Jamieson! You said she'd take us in! But now the dog has been distressed, I fear it may alter her disposition towards me! Do you think he's swallowed his tongue? Miss Pole! Whatever are you thinking of, opening the door?! I could have been anybody, with a cutlass! Get inside, Bertha! No! Go straight to The George! And tell your aunt you may remain until I fetch you! The poker! Foolish girl.
There is a plot to rob my house tonight! Have there been men in the vicinity? Three! And one of them has a hump.
It is as well I am not a creature of fragile nerve.
I came directly here! Well, you must stay here, you will have dear Mary's room.
She can sleep with me.
All is well.
There is no man concealed there.
You seem very practised at this.
It has been my habit since I was but eighteen! When I was a child, I used to take a flying leap from floor to bed lest a hand should reach and seize me by the foot.
Then Deborah persuaded me it was not dignified, so I started with the ball.
I have such a horror of hands under beds.
I think we might be extravagant with our candle tonight.
Poor little dog! Was he shot? It was he who alerted us to the presence of the robbers.
He barked and barked and barked until completely over exercised.
Or else he simply died of fright.
Either way, it is murder.
It is a dreadful business.
But did they take all your silver? Truth to be told, they got away with nothing! They left more than they took - great big footprints, half a dozen or more, right under the kitchen window! Don't ruffle his hair! It took all night to curl it.
Don't be dallying! Come on.
Don't be daft, woman.
Get in! Come on.
Come on.
Mrs Johnson I don't know how he's got the brass neck! Come on, pick one for your Christmas box.
It's such an extravagance.
You serve them.
I've got matters to attend to.
We have all been forced indoors so much of late, we are in danger of becoming morbid.
So Miss Tomkinson is giving a party in honour of Christmas Eve.
She very much hopes you will attend.
I am not sure that I should.
I think a party would be most welcome.
It can be no disgrace to your sister's memory to mark the season with your closest friends.
We cannot proceed without you - you would be too much missed! Is Miss Tomkinson inviting Captain Brown? My sister's final words with him were really very vexed.
But we need Captain Brown to carry a club! Darkness Lane is not so called for nothing! Cranford has seen such trouble, Miss Matty.
I think we should rally, and demonstrate our strength.
Deborah would not hide away at home.
I am not enjoying this.
I have cuffs quite smart enough for Miss Tomkinson's party.
If you have cuffs, Miss Jenkyns, why not think about a gown? We're only here for haberdashery.
Mr Johnson? Miss Matilda Jenkyns is planning a new gown! What is the cheaper this month, the mousseline de laine or sarsenet? Two and two the yard, both of them.
Miss Matilda? This is an unexpected pleasure.
Three months must have passed by since we saw each other last.
It has been nearer four, I think.
Mary, dear, this is Mr Thomas Holbrook.
Mr Holbrook, this is my friend, Miss Mary Smith.
You have had some sorrow since we last met.
I have suffered a great loss, Mr Holbrook.
My sister died.
I am sorry to hear that.
Truly I am.
I haven't seen Mr Holbrook before.
Is he a Cranford gentleman? No, no.
He has a farm some five miles off.
Although he is a cousin of Miss Pole's.
Once removed.
And I was ordering a length of sarsenet! No, Miss Matty - Mrs Johnson was trying to sell you a length of sarsenet.
Two and two the yard! Thank you.
Job Gregson.
I am arresting you on a charge of robbery and assault with intent to endanger the life of Mr Josiah Johnson.
30 years ago my cousin, Thomas Holbrook, had the nerve to ask Miss Matilda for her hand! He asked for her hand? And she sent him on his way! He was a farmer who drove his own cattle.
Not enough of a gentleman for the Rector and Miss Deborah.
Mr Holbrook didn't want to marry them! Perhaps I am surmising.
Perhaps she did not like him.
He always had the most masculine ways, unless somebody was sick in the house, he never saw any need to moderate his voice! That is enough.
One can be over zealous with one's Yuletide decorations.
But what did Mr Holbrook do after Miss Matty declined him? Avoided Cranford altogether, for almost 30 years.
What do you want? Can I see my father, please? Good lad.
Tell them where you were! What you were really doing! You were poaching too.
We'd both go down.
Dadda! They'll put you on the ships! You'll be transported.
You're ten years old.
I'll not seeing you in jail.
Sir.
He's not guilty.
Can you vouch for his whereabouts on that night? Can you prove that he was in another place? Otherwise occupied? He was on Lady Ludlow's land.
Poaching.
Six brace of pheasants, two of snipe.
I hope you write it in the ledger.
How do you know it was him? I was there.
I was helping.
Go home now! Now, Harry! Job Gregson is neither a thief nor violent.
But he is a poacher.
And that fact might save him.
Poaching is next to thieving, Mr Carter.
I abhor it for that reason! Madam, I am convinced that it was done because the man was desperate to feed his family.
Has he no work? Where does he live? He is a squatter in Hareman's Lane.
Then he is not, I think, a tenant of mine.
I have no responsibility towards him.
He is a tenant of this Earth, my lady.
And since the enclosure of common land, there is nowhere for the poor to forage for fuel or food.
What is it that you want me to do, Mr Carter? Sir Charles Maulver will hear the case.
I beg you, most humbly, to intercede on Job Gregson's behalf, to explain that he was poaching on your land, and to state that you can vouch for the time of the offence.
But the man will still be jailed for snaring pheasant.
He will serve three months or be fined five pounds.
My lady, compare that to banishment in a prison hulk - a woman as good as widowed and six children fatherless forever.
I think we will end this discussion.
It is not a subject upon which we are likely to agree.
Madam, I must hope that if you cannot help this family, God will.
Jack?! Merry Christmas, Frank! Any room at the inn? Ahh, Mrs Rose! This is my friend from Guy's, Dr Jack Marshland.
He works at Manchester now, in the Infirmary.
He has come to join us for Christmas.
Dr Marshland.
We are very pleased to have you with us.
Is this where Job Gregson lives? Yes, it is, my lady.
Believe me, Jack, the Tomkinson's party is the last place I wanted to spend Christmas Eve! There was one invitation I wanted more than any other, that was from the Rector and his daughter, Miss Sophy Hutton.
Oh, yes? But it did not come.
You swear you don't object to our attending the Miss Tomkinsons? Object to an evening spent in the company of Cranford's single ladies? Your turn, Miss Matty.
Of the present company who thinks themselves the most Virtuous virtuous? I leave that for you to judge.
Can you tell what those nearest to you think of you at the present time? How can you expect me to reveal such a secret to the company! Jesus wept! You sent for me, my Lady? Mr Carter, I have business in Cranford.
On Christmas Eve? I wish you to attend with me.
Come.
We must make haste.
It makes me laugh to see him purring and murmuring his way around the room! We had such a time of it at Guy's! He has never spoken of it! Did he not tell you of the time he caught a dog, a terrible mangy cur, and put it to bed in my room? I think he lured it with a chop.
When I got home, I lay right beside it without noticing and fell fast asleep until it licked my face! That is quite enough from you! Whist? I do like spices, but they do not like me.
Oh, you'll like it, Captain Brown.
I'm so glad they didn't ask me to play cards.
Good evening, Sir Charles.
What the devil is going on, Graves? Her Ladyship awaits you in her carriage, Sir.
Fine Christmas Eve this is! Sir Charles.
Mr Carter.
I issued the Constable with a warrant for this arrest! The offence brought to me was robbery with violence.
The man will be tried for that, and found guilty.
He is guilty of poaching.
Nothing more.
And nothing less! I am plagued by poachers too, and they are all vagabonds.
Vagabonds can be sentenced purely for their way of life.
No specific crime is required.
That, Lady Ludlow, is the law.
And who is it who makes the law? Those such as you in the House of Commons, those such as I in the House of Lords! You can also mete out justice as you see fit.
That's your privilege, as a magistrate.
Convict Job Gregson of poaching and I will pay the fine.
Five pounds from my own purse to save a father of six from jail.
He will work on my land, unwaged, in reparation.
My Lady.
Mr Carter, take the constable's key.
May I offer you the compliments of the season, Captain Brown? You may indeed.
And I return them, most wholeheartedly.
It will be a sad Christ-tide, I fear, in both our houses.
But tonight we enjoy the company of friends.
Which is as it ought to be.
My sister Deborah was very fond of Jessie.
I think she hoped to see her married.
The poor girl never even had a chance of that.
My sister was a woman who noticed things, Captain Brown.
And she noticed Major Gordon's interest in Jessie.
She was of very decided opinion when it came to matches, but I believe she thought that Jessie should have encouraged him.
Major Gordon? But he has gone to India.
I did not know.
I truly did not know! I was hoping for some soil.
It's crocuses.
Or it will be.
Thank you.
Of all the money that e'r I had I spent it in good company And all the harm I've ever done Alas, it was to none but me! And all I've done for want of wit To memory now I can't recall So fill for me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all Of all the comrades that e'r I had They are sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'r I had Need wish me one more day to stay But since it fell unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I'll gently rise and softly call Good night and joy be with you all! "Winter is the darkest season when one is alone.
"You must miss your sister by the hour, "and I would not seek to disturb you in your grieving.
"But mornings will lighten and leaves return anew.
"I hope that when your deepest mourning is concluded, you will allow me to attend upon you.
"Yours respectfully, Thomas Holbrook.
" I do not think Cranford has ever seen such a display of Valentine cards.
Mrs Johnson says some of them have been made by machine! Machine? I cannot imagine what sort of sentiment a card made by apparatus might convey.
Oh! Mrs Jamieson! You are back from Cheltenham! Indeed I am! Oh! We can quite cease to grieve for our little lost friend! He is called Giuseppe.
I purchased him full grown, the better to fit my poor dead Carlo's jackets.
When I was a girl there was very little call for cards, a posy of flowers was thought sufficient as a Valentine.
But cards are the fashion now, Mrs Jamieson.
Still.
Were a maidservant to receive one, it would be far more difficult to explain away than flowers.
Followers would give themselves away at a stroke.
We had not thought of that! Frank! It's Jack.
Any news of your young lady, Miss Sophy Hutton? None.
And she is still not my young lady.
Sadly.
Jack! She is just exquisite, and I'll work night and day to deserve her if I have to.
What happened to the other one? Miss Smith? Now why are you asking about Miss Mary Smith? I was watching her at Christmas, when we were at cards, and I think she has a problem with her eyes.
Farsight, certainly.
Perhaps an astigmatism.
Astigmatism? It's a refractive defect.
Jesus! I love eyes! I love their lenses and their humours, I love their ligaments and their nerves.
I even love the way most girls have two, you know stuck right in the middle of their faces.
I'm not in love with her though, or like to be.
You're the one with the unresisting heart.
Anyway, you should send her some flowers on Valentine's Day.
It may not go down well - they are still deep in grief.
You want a nice, unassuming posy, preferably in some tender dainty shade.
Dr Harrison! Dr Marshland.
It seems such a time since you came to our little Christmas party.
I have been inside the stores with the Hutton sisters - you cannot imagine the amusement dear Lizzie and Helen had from the Valentine cards! Do you affix much meaning to the little gallantries of the day, Doctor? I think they can be of miraculous benefit.
Dr Harrison! Sophy, Dr Harrison is here.
How delightful to see you all! Miss Hutton, Lizzie, Helen, may I introduce Dr Marshland? We are pleased to meet you, sir.
And I you.
You are all well, I hope? We could not be better, Dr Harrison! Send her snowdrops.
She's got that sort of face.
Must you leave tomorrow? I can't cope with the social whirl of Cranford.
Oh, dear God! Who are you sending Valentines to? The two little Hutton girls.
Ah, go on, Frank, they're such sweet funny things, they remind me of my sisters.
Girls, the postman has been and what a delivery.
Sophy! Sophy! There's one for Lizzie and one for Helen.
We've got cards! Let me see.
What good bold handwriting your admirers have.
Both of them! Oh! "With the compliments of Dr Harrison.
" Shall I invite him to visit? Yes.
DOOR OPENS Morning, Miss Matty.
Good morning, Martha, dear.
A valentine! Oh, Martha! Martha! What would Miss Deborah have said? You gave your word! Oh, sister! Sister! A Valentine? It is anonymous.
As all such tokens are.
Read the verse! "My heart aches, I can no longer tarry.
"You must give me physic And agree to to marry!" Give ME physic.
Me! My admirer has underlined the word to point out that our customary relationship is reversed! The ink is blotched and the hand looks awkward.
Dr Harrison is a medical man! He is allowed to write badly! Have you nothing else to say to me? Only that I cannot deny that I shall miss you very much when you are married.
Oh, Augusta! I hardly dared hope this day would ever come! Oh! Oh, Mary dear, we have been invited to Mr Holbrook's house! You and I both.
And I too! I received mine just this hour! Miss Matty.
I hope you will forgive me and Miss Pole if I tell you that I do know there was once a friendship between yourself and Mr Holbrook.
Well, at least I need not explain why I must refuse his invitation.
Why must you refuse? So much time has passed! And it is not as if you are invited there alone! Why do you seek to force me into this? Because I haven't been invited in that house since Mr Canning was Prime Minister.
Deborah would deplore my going there! She deplored him.
That is not the same at all! Ladies! Ladies, you are welcome indeed! What a delightful room! This is my counting house, Miss Matilda, it is not a room where I thought you'd like to sit.
I should like it very much.
It is the sort of room Dr Johnson might have had! In that case, we will eat our dinner here.
Mrs Willets, will you show the ladies upstairs? How very kind! I shall take a turn around the garden in the meantime.
Come along, Mary.
I should rather see the garden, if that is agreeable to Mr Holbrook.
Oh, yes, most agreeable! I thought Miss Matty might like a drive after dinner.
She would like it very much, I'm sure.
I recollect she was very fond of baby chicks.
We've just had three dozen hatched.
They'll be delightful viewing.
Miss Matty is fond of all small things.
You have put a great deal of thought into her entertainment! I have had 30 years to plan it.
I hope the dumplings haven't blunted your appetites too much.
My housekeeper doesn't like to serve them.
When my father was alive, we always started with dumpling, and we didn't get any meat until we'd done justice to the first course.
I think it a very proper way of doing things.
Dinners have gone all topsy turvy nowadays.
In the Spring, a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast.
In the Spring, the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest.
In the Spring, a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove.
In the Spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Thank you, Miss Matilda.
That is beautifully done.
There is a shocking draught in here, I am sure it was never thus in my uncle's time.
Oh, excuse me.
I have been remiss.
Oh, thank you.
Miss Matty, madam! To think you went out in that thin shawl at your age! At my age! At my age! How old do you think I am, that you must talk about my age? Some people do look much older than they are.
What is amiss? Is this cap unsuitable for a weekday? It is only that I see another underneath it.
How on earth did I do that? You spent too long before the looking glass.
There is a madness that descends on such occasions.
I will arrange myself here.
I don't think there will be visitors today, Martha.
Perhaps he'll come tomorrow.
Well, it's all right for her - if he turns up or not, at least she's allowed to entertain him! Martha! You know how much I think of Miss Matty! But it's so hard that I'm not allowed a follower! It's a wasted opportunity, there's such a lot of lads in Cranford.
It's not like it was when I was on the farm, and there were only old dairymen and Ginger Jack, who was simple! But I think the world of Miss Matty, and I'd never take advantage.
I know.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I've let myself down.
But after the to-do about the Valentine, I felt obliged to shut the door in Jem Hearne's face! And he did not like it, and I haven't seen him since! Are you going to toss it, Sophy? No, Lizzie, I am not! Bessie has quite enough pancake to clean up off the floor.
I'm sorry.
I should not have even tried! You fared no worse than I did last year.
I dropped two.
Will you have the last, Dr Harrison? I should be delighted.
That's your eighth! Especially for you.
Pancakes! There are more in the kitchen.
Oh, Mrs Rose.
It is the little things that make a house a home.
I'm sorry for my tardiness.
I should have come sooner, but there was trouble with the calving.
Spring must be a busy time on a farm! Oh! You used to be fond of primroses.
I have remained so, always.
These are still in bud.
They will open up in time.
Miss Matilda, I am resolved to take a trip away.
Will you be gone very long? Oh, no.
It is not far - to Paris.
Paris? Are there any revolutions there at present? Oh, it is tranquil of late, and I thank God for it, I am not limber enough to be clambering over barricades! Miss Matilda, it cannot, I think, be denied that our association has been drawn out over more years than we might have wished.
We cannot reverse the clock, only move forward, in the way of time itself.
And I do not arrange an absence for no reason.
I do so hoping that, whilst I am away, you will take pause to consider how our future path might run.
I see.
I believe you do.
Haste has never been our hallmark, Miss Matilda.
We would be unshaped, if we began to move at speed.
Oh, I almost forgot.
Mr Tennyson's poems, which you so enjoyed at my house.
May I call to see you as soon as I return? Yes, Mr Holbrook.
I would like that.
Take care of yourself, Matty.
Is this your family Bible, Miss Matty? I have not seen it before.
It has become so frail, I hardly ever bring it out.
Oh, I must find a better place to keep these letters.
Miss Matty, what happened to Peter? Peter? Your brother.
His birth is entered here under yours, but nothing else, and I have never heard him mentioned.
My sister maintained that was the better way.
Dr Harrison.
Good morning, Doctor.
Were you hoping to chance upon Miss Hutton? No.
I, er I just came in to buy a pair of gloves! Kid, leather, satin, gauntlet, chamois, wool or gardening? This was from my father, when he was away from the Rectory once.
It is mostly Latin, and in verse, but after he signs his name he writes "DO NOT KILL THE PIG" in very black letters.
In this one, your grandfather says "I am certain that if the child Matilda has your hair and eyes as you describe, "she will grow up to be a great beauty.
" I am not sure that was true.
But people did say I had a very good complexion.
Do the letters distress you, Miss Matty? It is not the letters, but the memories that grieve me.
Suddenly they rise up, when I thought them fastened down.
Here is a letter from Peter, which he wrote at school.
It does not matter that I can barely see to read it, or that one day it will be dust, I have been through it so many times, "Mother dear, I have been beaten again and I've seen a ghost.
"Please send some cake, with some citron in.
" Was he sent far from home? Shrewsbury.
But things did not work out as they ought.
So father decided to tutor him at home, to keep him out of mischief.
Because he really did have a dreadful habit of He had a habit of hoaxing.
Boys misbehave.
Peter was more than a boy.
And less than sensible.
That's when things began to come undone.
Might we blow out the candles, Mary dear? I think I might talk better in the dark.
When he was 16, our sister Deborah went to stay with friends near the garrison at Newcastle.
She was away three months and Cranford had begun to miss her.
One day, Father had come back from his walk, and he saw a crowd at the Rectory gates.
As he approached, he saw a woman in the garden holding an infant in her arms and babbling to it as if it were newborn and out for its first airing! Even Father thought it was Deborah for a moment.
But it was Peter, dressed in a bonnet and her pea-green gown, and holding a pillow in his arms, wrapped in a shawl as if as if it were a baby.
Father was so incensed he took his stick and beat poor Peter there, in front of everyone, until he was sickened and they both wept.
By then the crowd had gone.
But they had seen that it was not Miss Deborah! Peter was so ashamed.
And you know Cranford by now.
How people talk and talk.
He ran away.
They dragged the river for him! Then we got a letter saying he had joined the Navy and would go abroad.
My mother would not credit it.
I fear she parted with her proper mind.
She took my father's hand, and said, "Come, husband, "if you come with me, I am sure we will find him.
" And they would walk from room to room with Mother looking for their boy, and Father at a loss to know how he could correct her.
She did not live another twelvemonth.
And what became of Peter? We had a letter, from India, the week my mother died.
He said he would go to sea no more, that he'd made a fine new life on land.
And that he'd bought some white-sprigged muslin that he would send for my wedding dress.
For your wedding dress? He knew about Mr Holbrook.
But, Miss Matty, you I thought you had turned Mr Holbrook down! I had hoped to persuade my family of his worth.
I knew it would take some time, but Peter knew of his intentions, and he liked him so much! That gave me hope.
Then Peter ran away.
Mr Holbrook proposed in the midst of all our sorrows.
I so wanted to say yes, but I couldn't.
I couldn't accept him! Not after all that had occurred! Were you afraid you might upset your family further? I was afraid it would destroy them.
We had been so buffeted about.
I had no choice.
I wounded Mr Holbrook, instead of them.
What did you do with the muslin? It never arrived.
And we never heard from my brother again.
Miss Matty? There's a letter.
It looks foreign.
"Paris cannot match the charms I left behind in Cheshire.
"And so I am resolved to return forthwith.
"I hope you will dine with me on Easter Day and that you will have a favourable answer "to the proposition put before you by your faithful friend, Thomas Holbrook.
" You are right! I must prevaricate no longer! I feel the need for lace to lift my features, but I fear Mr Holbrook might prefer things to be plain.
Then there is the question of the pleating at the back.
Would a double fold be too elaborate? Miss Matty, it has taken us the morning to decide to come at all! And now Miss Galindo is not in, and we waste another day! Good morning, Doctor.
I found these gloves on the table in the kitchen.
They are ladies gloves, and new.
They are still wrapped in the tissue.
They are a gift, Mrs Rose.
For you.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Perhaps you attempt to alert me to something? I suspect you have tired of seeing me in black, and wish me to lighten my mourning, just a little! It has been a year since my husband died.
I could perhaps move on to mauves.
Really, I am very touched.
Do not alarm your mistress, only tell her the fly is summoned urgently, and likely to be at her door within the minute! Mr Holbrook contracted a chill on the voyage back from France.
By the time he reached home, pneumonia had set in.
I'm so very sorry.
I will go to him.
It is the proper thing to do.
"I have hid my feelings fearing they should do me wrong.
"Saying, "Dost thou love me?" Weeping.
"I have loved thee long.
"What is this? "His eyes are heavy, "think not they are glazed with wine.
"Go to him, it is thy duty, kiss him, take his hand in thine.
"Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth! "Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth!" Well "'tis well that I should bluster! "Had'st thou less unworthy proved "Would to God "for I had loved thee more "than ever wife was loved!" It is all in there.
Did you want me, Miss Matty? Martha, you are young.
And it seems to me that you might, in time, meet with a young man whom you like and who likes you.
I know I said that followers were not permitted, but if you do meet with such a man, and you come to me, and tell me, and I find him quite respectable you may see each other once a week.
I should not like to grieve any youthful hearts.
Jem! Jem! Jem! You'll never guess! Martha! What coat have I got on? Sorry.
I'm on my way to Mr Holbrook's.
That's his coffin on the back.
Will it keep until tonight? It will.
I am quite certain which style will suit me best.
I would like two, made like Mrs Jamieson's.
Coming to a peak in front.
But Mrs Jamieson wears widow's caps.
Yes.
I would like your permission to walk out with Sophy.
And what makes you suppose that I am likely to agree? Do you know nothing of the lore of love? He sent me a valentine! It spoke of marriage.
Matrimony is a very solemn thing.
As the railway comes closer, it will devour every acre in its path.
Harry Gregson ought to be working in the fields.
Harry Gregson ought to be in school!