(BELLS RINGING) Mary!

Mary!

Mary!

Was it you who arranged for the bells, Miss Smith?

Perhaps.

We knew you had settled on a quiet wedding, but still thought a little celebration warranted.

What next then, Mrs.

Hearne?

I’m going to cook us our wedding breakfast.

Eggs and ham.

You can sit beside the range in your new chair and watch me.

Now, I want you to eat up sharp and get out from under me feet.

Poor Miss Matty’s not had a pudding these past three weeks.

She’s going to fade away.

I don’t understand why she’s putting up this front.

Everybody knows that bank went down.

They don’t know she had everything she owned in it.

Anyway, I’m not sure it’s any of our business, Jem.

You made it our business.

You moved us in here to lodge.

MAN: All right, in you go.

I’m sorry it has come to this.

My mother squandered the money.

I brought you a book of verse.

It has that poem you like so much by Mr.

Gray.

Elegy in a Country Churchyard.

(DOOR OPENS) Miss Smith.

I was aware Mrs.

Rose is staying at Miss Pole’s, but I did not know she had taken all her furniture.

Dr.

Morgan sent a wagon for it.

Have you seen Sophy?

She’s gone away.

To an aunt, in Shropshire.

I just don’t know how this trouble came about.

I swear to you I sent no Valentine other than to Sophy.

Mary?

I must speak with you.

I cannot invite you to take tea.

Mrs.

Rose is in the parlor, and in the grip of melancholy.

I said to her, I said, "The tragedy of your situation, my dear, "is that you have been so very credulous.

"Not only could you perceive no harm in that vile man’s actions, "but you actually believed he had your interests at heart."

People who have been married are all the same.

They leave their powers of judgment at the altar.

Do you know, she will not let me reapply the blacking to her hair.

There’s a great grey streak right down her center parting.

Is it true about Miss Matty?

That she has lost all her money and is destitute?

I never thought I would see the day when I would part with these.

They were our father’s.

I cannot recall ever seeing him without a book in his hand, or on the desk before him.

They are so very fine, and they have been little used.

Perhaps it is right that you should let the Rector buy them.

I think it is absolutely right.

It will add much to the sum of his knowledge, and something to the contents of your purse.

I thought they would always remain in the family.

But after our father died, Deborah and I discovered that he had willed them to our brother, Peter.

Mary knows all about Peter.

He was a scapegrace.

He would have thumbed his nose at them.

But father always hoped that he would come home again.

If you’ll pass me another sheet of paper, Jessie, we can get these parceled up.

I shall see about some tea.

We have a deal in common, you and I. We have both seen a sister buried, and had someone dear to us go off to India.

Did Peter go to India?

He wrote me a letter from there.

Just once.

He spoke of sending me some muslin for a gown.

It never arrived.

It is such a distant place.

So many things must get lost on the journey.

Do you ever listen for footsteps in the street, at night when you are sitting alone?

Major Gordon mostly called on horseback.

I cannot deny that sometimes, when I hear the clip of hooves, something inside me leaps up for a moment.

And I wish it did not, for I think that it is not the despair that hurts one, but the hope.

Would you pass me the string?

Good afternoon, Mr.

Carter.

Good afternoon.

I walked up through the woods today.

There was a wild bee orchid right beside the path.

That is a rare thing.

I should like to see it myself.

I had hoped to return there with my sketchbook.

Tomorrow if I can.

Before it has a chance to fade.

Miss Galindo, do you by any chance know how the deeds to Hanbury Court came to be in the possession of Lady Ludlow’s bank?

Her Ladyship expressed a desire to see them perhaps three weeks ago.

Her talk had turned to reminiscence, and to her family’s importance in the history of England.

It was after that that she said, she would like to see the deeds for some of the dates had escaped her memory.

And so, to please Lady Ludlow, you came into my office, and you unlocked the drawer, and you took these documents away.

Yes, I did.

Miss Galindo, Lady Ludlow has mortgaged the estate, against my advice, without my knowledge, and as a direct consequence of your assistance.

(DOOR SLAMS) You left me with no choice, Mr.

Carter.

I knew you wouldn’t sanction it, and so I dealt directly with the bank.

The power to make that decision was entirely yours, my lady.

I thank you for that acknowledgement.

I hope you see that I do this out of concern for my estate, and not the lack of it.

My lady, money could have been raised in other ways.

Do not even speak to me of the railway!

I saw for myself the path it would slice across my land.

I saw which fields would be devoured, which buildings tumbled, and the damage to Hanbury would be irreversible.

Domestic economies are possible.

If you close the main part of the house and move into the eastern wing, we could reduce your staff by 40 or more.

And what will become of those whom I dismiss?

They are dependent upon this house for their livelihood.

My lady, you house and wage one man whose sole occupation is the winding of your clocks.

I have a great many clocks, Mr.

Carter, and Will Jones is mute.

Were it not for his position here, he would be in the workhouse, an institution I’ve heard you say that you abhor!

My duty is sacred.

When I die, I will hand my son his inheritance intact.

With a mortgage on it!

Mortgages are there to be paid off.

With what, my lady?

You have no money!

The harvest has been appalling, and your funds cannot support this lady’s charge.

I’m sorry I must speak so plainly.

Are you, Mr.

Carter?

Yes.

Because it grieves you.

(BELL CHIMING) We, the ladies of Cranford, are assembled in Mrs.

Forester’s parlor today in order that we might resolve upon something.

Miss Smith.

Yesterday afternoon, I conversed with all the ladies present here today on the subject of the misfortune which has befallen our dear friend, Miss Matilda Jenkyns.

Very true.

I imagine none of us is what may be called rich, But every last one of us has agreed... Has agreed that whilst we have a penny to spare, it would not only be our duty but a pleasure... (SOBBING) A real pleasure.

...for each of us to give what we can to assist her.

No, Miss... Mrs.

Forester, please.

You’re betraying your emotions.

(WHISPERING) I’m sorry.

I can hardly think of what to say in the face of such generosity.

You need say nothing.

We all know that if the position was reversed, Miss Matty would be the first to offer help to others.

Even now, she worries most about 10 shillings owing to the butcher, because he is a widower with twins.

I’m sure that we can deal with that.

My sister and I are customers of Mr.

Goddard.

And, of course, we are also agreed that we wish to contribute our aid in a secret and concealed manner, so as not to hurt Miss Matty’s feelings.

So, we will each write down, in a sealed paper, what we can afford to give, after which, Miss Smith, we hope you will confer with Captain Brown and devise some scheme by which the money can be passed to Miss Matty without her knowing it is really from her friends.

The most important thing is that it should somehow seem to be her proper due.

Perhaps as a result of miscalculation by the bank.

(LADIES GASPING) Yes!

By the... Mrs.

Forester!

There is no need to mention the establishment by name.

It seems to me, Miss Matty, that the miscalculation by the bank has been your greatest good fortune to date.

You will be in receipt of £50 per year, in addition to the £13 and 16 shillings you originally thought you were left with.

And with Martha and Jem paying me rent and the sale of the books, will I have enough to live on?

You will still be living on half the income you previously enjoyed.

You will have to add to it, or else give up this house.

Miss Matty, we wondered if you might consider setting up a school.

Well, if I was not expected to teach mathematics, or French, or accomplishments.

And I would not care to teach the globes, for I never did like the notion that the world is round.

It makes me giddy.

I suggest you open up a shop.

A shop?

In this dining parlor.

What kind of shop?

I would advise you to sell some sort of commodity called for on a daily basis.

Tea would be ideal.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t!

To go into trade?

I’m sure your friends will accept it and admire your common sense.

Tea really is a very genteel form of trade, Miss Matty.

It is purchased by people of every class.

Including the most superior.

At least it is not a sticky form of merchandise.

For I could never bear to handle things that leave a residue.

I’m not sure that I could possibly consider it.

I might offend Mr.

Johnson by going into competition.

Would you like me to ask him?

Without consulting him.

Good morning, Mrs.

Johnson.

Good morning, Miss Jenkyns.

How nice to see you.

Last time you were in, you were looking at the silks.

I was.

But today, I should like to confer with Mr.

Johnson.

What is it regarding?

Tea.

And if you would be so kind as to tell Miss Matilda that there’s been an error in your butchery accounts, we would be sincerely grateful.

It’d be my pleasure, Miss Tomkinson.

She was compassion itself when the good Lord took my wife.

And, Mr.

Goddard, how are those dear little twins?

Oh, they’re weaned already.

And the boy has begun to take pork.

Did you hear that, sister?

Pork!

Pork.

It is testament to your talent as a parent.

(BANGING) MISS POLE: There was less noise when the walls of Jericho were tumbled!

MATTY: And less dust.

Dear Mr.

Johnson said my dining room would make a very fine shop.

By the by, Mary, do not stint upon the Assam.

I stood by his counter for an hour yesterday, and they were selling it hand over fist!

I will stock any sort of tea except the green kind.

So fearfully bad for the digestion.

I must say, it will be bolstering to Cranford’s reputation having a second place to purchase tea.

We’ll lose such face when we’re left with just one doctor.

Is Dr.

Harrison leaving?

The man cannot remain!

There’s been such vicious gossip!

And Caroline Tomkinson has been made ill, clutching at that wretched valentine and weeping over it till it is more smeared and blotted than it was when it arrived.

He is doubtless waiting for a moonless night so he might slink away without having stones thrown.

There’s a letter come.

I think it’s for Miss Smith, but the hand’s so blotched and scratchy I can scarcely make out.

Who is it from, Mary dear?

It’s from Dr.

Marshland.

I am aware that this is a matter of the utmost delicacy.

But if we can prove the valentine was in another’s hand, don’t you agree that everyone would benefit?

Oh, get it out of the drawer.

What care I about it now?

I think we have found our culprit.

It is the same hand, unquestionably.

Dr.

Marshland’s hand.

You are in correspondence with Dr.

Marshland?

Yes.

He prescribes my spectacles.

These were sent to Lizzie and Helen Hutton.

I show them not to increase your embarrassment, but rather to diminish your distress.

You were not singled out for mockery.

Are you seeking to defend that Irishman?

No, I am not.

MARY: I do not pretend to understand the nature of friendship between men, Dr.

Marshland.

But surely, in its better points, it resembles that between women.

Where, then, was your loyalty to Dr.

Harrison?

Where was your kindness and respect?

And where, now, is your compassion?

His career is ruined, his reputation savaged and his courtship annihilated, all by your willfully mischievous hand.

I urge you, sir, to apply your wits to the resolution of this disaster as adroitly as you did the manufacture of it.

You may yet salvage your connection with Dr.

Harrison, but I fear my regard for you will not recover.

Right you are, ma’am.

MARY: Sophy?

MAN 1: All right.

Sophy!

MAN 2: Would you take this for me?

Sophy!

WOMAN: Excuse me.

Sophy, are you ill?

WOMAN: Thank you.

I had hoped you had come home seeming more yourself.

So did I, Miss Smith.

So did I.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR) Dr.

Harrison!

I came to inquire after Miss Hutton.

Miss Hutton is not to be distressed.

And I’m under orders.

If you come anywhere near, I’m to go straight to the Rector.

Good afternoon, Dr.

Harrison.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR) I assure you, Mr.

Carter, I had not the least notion what Lady Ludlow intended to do with the deeds.

I am quite sure of that, just as I am quite sure that no one on this earth, man or woman, could have stopped her.

I think perhaps the stems of those flowers are still a little moist.

I should not like you to stain your cuff.

Lady Ludlow was brought up in a different century, Mr.

Carter.

She’s had but two tasks in her lifetime, to bear her children and preserve her land.

The very thought of that mortgage must pierce her like a shard of glass.

It pierces me.

I’ve worked beside her these last 10 years.

Pray, don’t think I disregard that.

Hanbury has been such a large part of my life.

I was not yet 30 when I applied to Mr.

Bolton, who managed the estate then.

He trained me in his ways, he even let me get married to his daughter.

My wife had a little money of her own.

And when she died, it was put to me that I could buy myself a small farm.

Start afresh, away from her memory.

But I could not part with the past, or the place I’d come to love so much.

I was persuaded by a friend to invest in his mill up in Halifax, and without further effort, I made more money than I could earn in 30 years at Hanbury.

But when I went to see the place that made me rich, it sickened me.

There were children there sleeping under looms in exhaustion, I pulled my thousands out of there and just put them in the bank, where they grow still.

And I cannot bear to touch them.

I sometimes wonder if the presence of money isn’t more unsettling than the lack of it.

If only Lady Ludlow had come to see me about the mortgage, I might have been able to dissuade her.

She has made her choice, Mr.

Carter.

Septimus came first.

And the tragedy of it is that he’ll never return to Hanbury.

And as soon as he inherits, he will sell the whole estate.

No, Mr.

Carter.

The tragedy is that Lady Ludlow knows it.

WOMAN 1: I’d like a pound, please.

Thank you.

What a delightful establishment this is.

It surpasses every description of its charms.

We expect a visitor, and require some tea.

Have you any of the green kind?

I stock it out of deference to demand, but I always advise against its purchase.

Perhaps you would prefer some Assam?

Or Lapsang?

Makes a very robust cup.

Sister, which do you think would suit?

Perhaps a pound of each?

I’m entirely adept with scales if you require another pair of hands.

Oh, Sophy!

I’m so glad you’re home.

Now, you must listen to me.

Not everything was as it seemed.

Dr.

Harrison is innocent.

You are intolerably hot.

(WEAKLY) If he was innocent, he would have called by now.

He would have come!

You must try to calm yourself.

He cannot be ignorant of my pain.

(BREATHING HEAVILY) You need the doctor.

It is the typhoid fever.

There can be no mistaking it now.

Well, you mistook it before.

Sometimes it follows the ambulatory pattern and the patient displays no more than a general malaise for the first two weeks.

After that, the disease can take a very severe course.

What can be done for her?

If you do not object, I might confer with Mrs.

Rose.

Her husband was known for his fomentations and his poultices.

Dr.

Morgan, will my daughter die?

Miss Smith.

Dr.

Marshland.

I wondered if we’d be seeing you.

(INSISTENT KNOCKING AT DOOR) DR.

MARSHLAND: For pity’s sake, Frank, will you open the door?

I’m really sorry about the valentines.

I only did it for a joke.

I know you’re in there.

Listen, Frank, I’m with Miss Smith.

She says Sophy Hutton has the typhoid fever.

Typhoid?

Are you sure?

Am I sent for?

Dr.

Morgan is attending her.

I’m going to the George to hire myself a bed.

If you want to speak to me, that’s where I will be.

I will raise a blister on her arm to draw her out of her delirium.

There must be no natural light allowed into the room, and no cold drafts.

Bessie, build up the fire.

We must provoke a crisis of fever.

Unto God’s gracious love and protection, we commit thee.

The Lord bless thee and keep thee.

The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee.

Lighten her darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord.

And by a great mercy, defend us from all the perils and dangers of this night.

The blood of thine own son, our savior, Jesus Christ.

(EXPLOSIONS) (MAN SHOUTING) MAN 1: Just go down the line!

MAN 2: Take cover!

(HORN BLARING) MAN 3: Bring those barrels over here!

MR CARTER: Lady Ludlow will not sell one single acre in her lifetime.

CAPTAIN BROWN: Railway money has a way of talking.

She may be deaf to it, but there are those that listen.

There will be a line to Cranford yet.

It may take longer, it may require more engineering, but it will get there.

And I will be glad.

In principle, at least.

Captain Brown, is there no other way for Hanbury to profit from the railway?

Can we not sell you timber, or fodder, or tools?

Could you supply us with the quantities we need?

I don’t know.

I’m afraid you do, Mr.

Carter, and you cannot.

I have been to the Miss Tomkinsons’ about the valentine.

I said I was sorry, and they forgave me with good grace.

-Did you go to the rectory?

-Yes.

And I left a letter of confession addressed to the Reverend Hutton.

Was Dr.

Morgan there?

I believe he was.

He always advocates a purge, but if her symptoms are gastric rather than pulmonary, then the effects of the fever will not be beneficial but acutely dangerous.

If she vomits up all fluids and continues to perspire, then the effect on her constitution will be the same as cholera.

She will die, Jack, of desiccation and exhaustion.

What would you do?

Eradicate the fever, not nurture it.

Cool her temperature right down.

They won’t let you near her.

I am near her.

I’m in that room.

DRIVER: Go on!

Go on!

Whoa!

There’s been an explosion at the railway works.

Two men are dead.

I’ve brought in Mr.

Carter.

This way.

All right, now... (GRUNTING) This is not your blood, I think.

I was nearby a horse when the gunpowder went off.

You will need an operation.

Soon.

Do you consent to that?

If you do it.

Miss Galindo, can you send to Hanbury Court for a quantity of ice?

Of course.

And see if a message can be sent to Miss Mary Smith.

She has assisted me before and showed great common sense.

Miss Galindo.

Yes?

When you are done running his errands, come back to me with a pen and ink.

(CHOKING) Right.

And it’s out.

(SIGHING) Next, I’ll stitch back the corner of the lid.

Jack.

What about the leg?

The loss of vitality is total.

No circulation, no reflex.

No choice.

It’s coming off above the knee.

Come to me when you’re done.

We need to prepare the tools.

And that is it.

Everything accounted for.

Must be signed and witnessed.

Mr.

Carter, I would be a fine clerk if I did not know the form for such a thing.

Shall I ask Dr.

Harrison?

No.

I don’t want him to know I saw the likely end of this.

You sign it.

I’m a fool for indulging you, Mr.

Carter.

There is no likely end.

You have injured your leg, it will be righted.

That is all.

Now, put your name here, above mine.

I brought brandy, too.

And a quantity of linen.

Thank you.

You know as well as I that these are gestures made in place of an apology.

(PANTING) We spoke in anger to each other the other day.

I am sorry.

(GRUNTS IN PAIN) (COUGHING) You must conserve your energy, Mr.

Carter.

I will speak with Dr.

Harrison after the procedure and arrange for your return to Hanbury as soon as he permits.

Miss Smith.

(GRUNTING) (MUTED SCREAMING) (WHEEZING) Help!

Somebody help!

(SOPHY SCREAMING) HUTTON: Quickly!

His breath has stopped!

It’s his heart.

It has given out.

His heart?

(DOOR OPENING) The doctors think there must have been an unseen injury, possibly within the chest.

In a few moments, you may see him, if you wish.

Lizzie!

What will Papa say?

I don’t care!

Frank, you did your utmost.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR) LIZZIE: Dr.

Harrison, open the door!

(PANTING) Please, come.

Who asks for me?

We do.

Fetch the ice.

Now.

All of it.

In there!

Now!

Wait for me.

Not you.

Let him come in.

Dr.

Harrison and I have had our misunderstandings, but I’ve watched him work for nigh on a twelve-month, and if anyone can save her now, it is he.

Go to her.

DR.

HARRISON: Thank you.

We need to cool her down now.

Walter died when he was crossing the equator.

I know, my love, but I’m going to bring you home.

It’s jammed!

The other mackintosh.

DR.

MARSHLAND: Belladonna?

Two minims.

Two?

Are you certain?

She hasn’t responded.

Trust me.

Yes!

Building to a pitch.

Building.

And slowing.

Slowing.

Slowing.

(WHISPERING) You can sleep now.

"Graved on a stone beneath yon aged thorn, "Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, "a Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown, "Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth "And Melancholy marked him for her own.

"Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere.

(STIFLING SOB) "Heaven did a recompense as largely send.

"He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, "he gained from Heaven, "’Twas all he wished, a friend."

There’ll be a funeral, lad.

I might not be allowed to go.

You can put the lid on now.

It is you.

Yes.

I dreamed about a boat, dragged out of the water, but upside down in the sand.

Why did I dream that?

Because you are not going anywhere.

Clove rock for the children, and peppermints for those who scar their livers with green tea.

It’s the only way I can square my conscience.

Miss Matty, I had a talk with Martha today.

Did you?

Yes, and there is a change afoot.

Well, my dear, you must tell me what it is.

Poor Martha came to me in some distress because she rather hoped you might’ve guessed at what would come to pass.

But you have not, and she fears that soon her appearance will cause comment in the town.

Mary.

My dear, is there to be a child?

A baby?

In this house?

Oh!

I promise you, Miss Matty, I’ll make sure my lying in doesn’t go one day over the fortnight.

God bless you.

Harry, please sit down.

I’m dirty from the cow sheds.

There’s no matter.

Mr.

Carter, who was a friend to you and me, made a most detailed last will and testament.

You’re to have, with immediate effect, the sum of £1,000.

You may take from it an amount with which to help your family, but the bulk of it must be used to fund your education.

£1,000?

Just for my education?

-Yes.

-It’s too much.

You could build a whole school with that.

Everybody could go.

Mr.

Carter left a considerable estate.

In total, he left more than £20,000.

I have borrowed almost £20,000 from the bank.

It is a vast amount, and I can see that it has robbed me of my sleep and peace of mind.

Mr.

Carter has willed you the whole of his fortune, when you come of age, on one condition: that you must lend the greater part of it to me for the duration of my lifetime so that I may pay back my mortgage to the bank.

And then, when I die, and my son inherits Hanbury, he must pay you back with the interest accrued.

Mr.

Carter knew you well.

When that day comes, he wants you to use as much of the money as you wish to found a school in Cranford.

But he always said you didn’t want that.

I didn’t.

Doesn’t mean that I was correct.

When we have finished our talk, you may read the will for yourself, and I hope that you’ll let me know what you think of it.

I think it must make you sad to be told what you must do.

You’re not used to that.

Did Mr.

Carter want me to go away to school?

He stipulated Shrewsbury in the will, since it is not so very far from Cheshire.

He also suggests that first you go to the Reverend Hutton for instruction in the classics, and in that way, you won’t be far behind the other boys.

He thought of everything, didn’t he?

Yes, he did.

I shall do it all, you know.

Everything that Mr.

Carter asked.

And so shall I. I don’t know what to play.

I’ve hardly had the lid up at home these past three weeks.

Every time I start, poor father says it pains his eye.

I’m sure the frailty will pass when you get the bandage off.

Dr.

Marshland advises a temporary patch.

I shall look quite the buccaneer.

Play this one.

(CLEARS THROAT) (PLAYING PIANO) ♪ By yon bonnie banks ♪ ♪ And by yon bonnie braes ♪ ♪ Where the sun shines bright ♪ ♪ On Loch Lomond ♪ ♪ Where me and my true love ♪ ♪ Will never meet again ♪ Did I hear somebody outside?

I shall go and see.

♪ On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond ♪ It’s probably Jem Hearne coming home.

♪ Oh, you’ll take the high road ♪ ♪ And I’ll take the low road ♪ ♪ And I’ll be ♪ ♪ In Scotland afore ye ♪ MAN: ♪ In Scotland afore ye ♪ ♪ But me and my true love ♪ ♪ But me and my true love ♪ ♪ Will never meet again ♪ ♪ Will never meet again ♪ ♪ On the... ♪ ♪ On the bonnie, bonnie banks ♪ ♪ Of Loch Lomond ♪ Major Gordon.

It has taken me three months to travel back from India, and I find I have not had time to think of what to say.

Well, I hope you plan to propose to her again.

Miss Matty?

Major Gordon’s purpose in coming back from Chunderabaddad was twofold.

To ask for Jessie’s hand, and to bring something for you.

Tell me that you know me.

You are my brother.

Peter.

I have brought you the muslin that I promised.

For your wedding gown.

Though I fear I am come a little late.

’Tis no matter.

You have come home.

(PEOPLE LAUGHING) WOMAN: I’m holding back the mutton puffs.

Caroline Tomkinson, engaged to a butcher.

Well, that’s the last we’ll see of elegant economy in this house.

(DOG BARKING) And ham at 3:30!

(WOMEN GIGGLE) Oh!

Dr.

Morgan has come.

He’s arm in arm with Mrs.

Rose!

Oh, you’re here.

MAN: I think congratulations are in order to you, too.

Yes, an entirely predictable liaison.

I’ve seen it blooming for some time.

It’s all go today, they’ve even set up cushions.

The Aga of Cranford must be anticipated.

This is most irregular.

Why does a man not sit upon a chair?

Well, perhaps the Orient has rubbed off on him.

I hear tell he’s actually quite weather-beaten.

Well, do not look to me to have a clue!

Every time I call, he’s in his room, asleep!

I don’t know who he is that he must be kept under a glass case.

Oh!

Well, this is a monumental day.

Do try a little of the cold roast beef.

Caroline will make a most memorable bride.

She looks quite radiant.

There are some girls who do not feel complete unless they marry.

I was never one of those, but I think my sister is.

You have to consider her health.

What good is a husband to the constitution?

I have "spinster" carved on my bones, and the doctor is a stranger to my door.

(WOMEN GIGGLING) It’s Mr.

Peter!

My dear Miss Matty, this must be Mr.

Jenkyns.

Are you the lady that was once Miss Pole?

I’m the lady who is still Miss Pole.

(KNOCK AT DOOR) Miss Matty.

I hope I do not intrude or tire you.

I grow stronger by the day.

I could not keep from calling, once I’d heard your news.

’Tis a delight to see the room so little changed.

I sometimes forget that this was the home of your youth.

My brother brought me a bolt of cloth from Chunderabaddad.

It’s the loveliest of muslins.

I wonder, would you take it to be your wedding dress?

Oh, Miss Matty.

It is exquisite.

(GASPS) It was meant for a rectory bride, my dear.

And now a rectory bride will wear it.

(ALL CHEERING) My dear Frank, your father would be proud.

Congratulations.

WOMAN 1: Don’t they look happy?

MAN 1: Splendid, man!

Congratulations.

(WOMEN CHEERING) Oh, Harry!

Well done!

Good luck, Harry!

Now, that is a shame.

That is the loveliest bridal gown.

Such beautiful material.

Such a fine, close weave.

ALL: Goodbye!

WOMAN: Bye!

Bye!

MAN: Farewell!

Farewell!