House of Guinness (2025) s01e03 Episode Script

1
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.
Why are we stopping?
Who are those men?
Begging pardon, Madam Guinness.
We're about to pass through Cloonboo.
What… what is Cloonboo?
The tribe that lives in Cloonboo is
all rib and anger, if you'll forgive me.
The ones that didn't starve
or go to Boston
are fairly mad to be
stuck here and be hungry.
These men are escorts.
They'll see us through Cloonboo.
They speak no English, only Irish.
So won't trouble you for conversation.
Word gets out there's
a Guinness lady from Dublin,
some people in Cloonboo might want
a conversation with you about justice.
Who are you, me pretty fair maid? ♪
And who are you, me honey? ♪
Well, who are you
Me pretty fair maid? ♪
And who are you, me honey? ♪
She answered me class of modestly ♪
"I am me mother's darling" ♪
With me too-ry-ay, fol-de-diddle-day ♪
Di-re fol-de-diddle dai-rie oh ♪
And will you come to me mammy's house ♪
When the moon is shining clearly? ♪
And will ye come… ♪
At my castle, in Macroom,
there are old prison cells,
and the corridors in our dungeons
are wider than this.
If I'd known I was coming
to visit a crofter's cottage,
I would have dressed accordingly.
This is the old part of the house, madam.
In the new part,
you could parade an elephant.
Have you ever seen an elephant?
No, madam.
They are extremely intelligent animals,
and they probably wouldn't accept
an invitation to tea
from a family that brews beer.
But… I'm here now.
How do I look?
Very good.
The brewers' butlers
at least know the rules.
Di-re fol-de-diddle dai-rie oh… ♪
This way, madam.
There we lay till the break of the day
And divil the one did hear us ♪
There we lay till the break of the day
And divil the one did hear us ♪
Then I arose and put on me clothes
Saying, "Darling, I must leave ya" ♪
With me too-ry-ay, fol-de-diddle-day ♪
Di-re fol-de-diddle dai-rie oh ♪
Lady Olivia Charlotte Hedges-White,
daughter of the third earl of Bantry.
Before we begin, you should know
I value honesty above all else.
What lies ahead may be awkward
and embarrassing.
Let's dispense with the pretense of tea
and at least open a bottle of Madeira.
Since the House of Guinness is
famously leaky when it comes to secrets,
perhaps once the bottle is open,
we can be left to serve ourselves.
Stop!
Stop.
Stop…
Stop, stop!
-Fetch a doctor, please.
-No doctors in Cloonboo.
Then at least fetch a fucking woman.
Get out, all of you.
Shh!
I thought
you Guinnesses'd bleed black.
You've lost your baby.
But it's gonna be all right.
What baby?
Arthur.
This… The, eh…
This Madeira was a gift.
We have wonderful relations
with all the English vintners in Portugal.
In the summer,
we go and stay in their castles.
The wind blows off the Atlantic,
and, well,
it smells like freedom.
I didn't know that freedom
smelled of anything.
Do you know Portugal, Lady Olivia?
As I'm sure you can imagine,
the European grand tour is
beyond the means
of the earls of Bantry these days.
Well then, Portugal would come
as a pleasant surprise.
Perhaps a place for a honeymoon
should you decide to…
to agree to our…
To agree to your what?
What are we calling it?
A proposal?
-It is a proposal.
-Does she always speak for you?
In matters of the heart.
The heart. Oh my.
-Do you shoot?
-And ride.
In London, they would laugh
at your Bantry brogue.
In London, I would adapt to the ways
of the dreadful Saxon savages.
In the letter, I think it was made clear
what kind of marriage we are offering.
Un mariage blanc.
What is your understanding
of that expression?
It means if you were to choose me,
we would marry,
and I would take your name.
But I will not be obliged
to take your cock.
Arthur, perhaps we could
speak for a moment in private.
Exactly that, Olivia.
A mariage blanc is a marriage
in form, but not in function.
Without being indelicate,
you will still be at liberty
to function in other places.
-We are rather getting ahead of ourselves.
-Yes.
I will,
from time to time, "function"
in other places…
and in my own way.
But then what about me?
A time may come
when I will want that kind of affection.
These things are normally understood,
but not said out loud.
I think Arthur and I
are both out-loud people.
If a time comes
when you… quietly,
discreetly,
decide you wish to function in--
With someone who we mutually agree is--
No, no, no.
You will not have absolute veto.
You trust my judgment.
Arthur, we must adjourn this meeting
immediately before--
Before we all start
telling the truth out loud.
Well, here it is.
If an occasion arises
when a smile reaches me,
I want assurances
that I will be at liberty to…
to fuck and forget whomsoever I choose,
so long as the servants don't find out.
Arthur, I'd remind you
there are other names on the list.
-Burn the list.
-Arthur…
In four months' time,
I will be standing for election
as a Conservative member of parliament.
At heart I am a Liberal,
but I'm sure love will prevail.
For Conservative Party functions,
Rotary balls, hunt balls,
shoot suppers, you will be by my side.
And once you are elected?
Oh, there will be grand tours.
London, Europe,
perhaps New York.
And for all of them, you will be
arm in arm with me as my dutiful wife.
I will pay your father's debts.
And you will get an annual income
of £10,000.
-Fifteen.
-Twelve.
-Fifteen it is.
-Arthur.
In that case,
proposal accepted.
Well, I had set aside
an hour and a half for this.
Followed by croquet.
There will be no croquet.
Thank God there'll be no croquet.
-Mm.
-Mm.
Ah, Mr. Guinness, sir--
No. Not now. Not now.
Yes, sir.
Have an appointment?
Byron Hedges.
Too impetuous for appointments.
I'm here about the vacant position
of international vanguard.
Then you appear to be applying for a job
which doesn't exist.
Sir…
Oh, but I believe it does exist.
But for the moment,
this vacancy only exists inside your head.
At least to begin with, it concerns
America.
Let me explain.
I have a friend who is a maid.
-What has that to do with America?
-Oh, she cleans your house, Mr. Guinness.
And… sometimes she tidies up papers
that you've left open on your desk.
Who the fuck are you?
Well, my first name is Byron,
after the poet.
Me second name is Hedges, after me father.
But my mother's name…
was Guinness.
My mother was Patricia White Guinness.
From the banking side of the family.
Patricia White Guinness had an affair.
With a… Fenian.
The horror of it.
And a bastard was born.
You.
See, I have the Guinness certainty
from me mother
and the rebel instinct from me father.
And where is America
in this wonderful tale
of a bastard's progress?
It is my predestined destination,
Cousin Edward.
Cousin?
Hmm…
You see, according to certain papers
that my friend found on your desk,
you have decided to plant
the black flag of Guinness…
in American soil.
You want to colonize the coasts,
flood the deserts,
submerge the Rockies in porter.
Not exactly how I expressed it
in my scribbles.
Ah, but in the scribbles,
there is passion.
A passion for expansion.
I've heard rumors, Cousin Edward,
that, uh, since you and your brother
have taken on this mighty leviathan,
you've decided to do things differently.
And… since I am of like mind
and, like you, an impetuous member
of the same generation of the same family,
I've already secured
a passport for travel…
…and a berth
on a ship called the Magellan,
sailing from Liverpool to New York
one week from now.
I will be accommodated in New York
by my cousin in the Bowery District.
Eh… like my father, he is also a Fenian
and a member of the Fenian Brotherhood.
With whom… our relations
are very, very poor.
But you have intentions to change that.
More intelligence from your maid?
No.
Intelligence from my own intelligence.
You know as well as I do
that for the brewery to be accepted
in New York and Boston,
for your beer to even make it
through the docks,
you will need the help and approval
of the Fenian Brotherhood.
Now… bastard that I am,
I am the bridge which you can walk across
from boat to dock
without cost or commitment.
Sooner or later, you're gonna have to
make friends with the Fenians, Cousin.
We cannot give money
to the Fenian rebels.
If I may be blunt…
I hear your older brother
doesn't give a fuck.
So you're going to need someone who does.
Let the legitimate
and the illegitimate sides of the family
conquer America together, Cousin Edward.
Comrades, look up at the great clock.
At one o'clock,
outside Newgate Prison in London,
our comrade Michael Barrett will be hanged
for planting a bomb in London
when five witnesses have sworn an oath
that he was in Scotland at the time.
An innocent man
lynched before a baying crowd
for a crime he did not commit.
The British tried
to starve us in the famine.
And now they wanna hang us.
He is being hanged for being
an Irishman who loves freedom.
May God bless him.
And may God damn those
who deny us our freedom!
Arrest her!
Clear the path.
Stop!
This is a peaceful, lawful protest.
You have no right.
Ellen Cochrane, come with us.
Was there something to bury?
No. It was barely two months,
barely a thing at all.
Two months…
I see time points out the father.
I didn't know.
But he knew.
He brought me here…
to punish me…
…for a sin.
Are the guards still outside?
There's no need for guards.
I sent them away.
I run what's left of Cloonboo.
From the carriage,
I saw so many poor people.
So many graves.
From the Great Famine, yes?
Finish your cup.
-All those people starved to death.
-We don't talk about those things.
I'll get you something to wear underneath,
and you can finish your journey.
What is your real name?
Sultan is how I'm known.
My father left a big house
at Connacht to his children.
I am one of them.
Oh, I know who you are.
And when I feel better,
I would very much like
to come back to Cloonboo
and have you show me around.
Because I think God made this
happen here for a reason.
Perhaps he's telling me
what I should do with my life.
Oh, finish your cup,
or you'll have no life left to live.
-Come in here!
-Food! We need food in here!
Come in here, darling.
-Bring her in here.
-Get back!
Get in there, you Fenian bitch.
Are you all right?
I told them to do you no harm.
You told them?
You told the police, and they obey?
Yes.
It is the unjust reality.
Across the sea,
an innocent man was just hanged.
Twelve people died in the explosion
from the bomb he planted.
You swallow that Saxon shit
even though you're Catholic?
A tormented one.
What do you want?
Why did you bring me here?
I brought you here
to concentrate your mind.
On what?
On this.
"Mr. Edward Guinness invites you
to join him for tea
at the Imperial Hotel, Sackville Street,
this Friday at 4:00 p.m."
-The Imperial?
-For tea and cake.
And conversation.
You can tell Mr. Edward Guinness
that I have no desire for conversation.
And I have political, moral,
and gastronomical objections
to meeting at that hotel.
You don't have to eat.
They don't allow people like me in.
If you don't have a dress
suitable for the venue,
I am authorized to… help out.
Put your fucking money away.
I'm not a whore.
Ah, but, you see,
I am.
Those above me,
they give me money to protect them,
to fend for them.
I even fuck 'em when they ask.
You tell Mr. Edward Guinness
that he knows my terms of engagement.
And we Fenians will remain silent
about his brother's sexual proclivities
if his brother opens up his mind
to the Fenian cause.
You don't need tea and fucking cakes
to understand something so simple.
I think what Mr. Guinness
wants to understand is you.
He wants a new beginning.
He wants to shut me up
before the election.
I think today has proven
that if we wanted to shut you up,
you would be shut up,
in a place like this,
for a very long time.
And if the old man were alive…
Oh glory.
That is what I would have done
and not even mentioned it in confession.
But Mr. Edward Guinness
wants to hear a different point of view.
Shall I keep my money?
You make yourself at home.
Give me that fucking £5.
Come.
So?
What did you think of her?
She asked me the same question.
She asked me what I thought of her.
Of how she looked.
Mm.
And what did you say?
That, as a servant,
I have no right to an opinion,
so I said nothing.
But if you were to express an opinion
of the woman who is almost certain
to become my future wife?
It is decided?
Well, Aunt Agnes is insisting on
some due diligence regarding her lineage,
and that we both have a week
for reflection, but…
for myself, I have reflected.
Hmm.
But before then,
it is your opinion of her
that interests me.
-If I was forced--
-You are being forced.
I would say that,
after a very brief encounter,
she is rather too sharp.
That'll be all.
Mm.
And the Potter seal of disapproval
removes all doubt.
I'll go to St. Patrick's Cathedral
and speak to the dean
to make arrangements.
You prepare the maids,
the butlers, the grooms…
for a Guinness wedding.
Hmm.
Georgie.
What's this about age? What the fuck!
What does the letter say?
Yous won't fucking believe
what Rafferty just pinned to the wall.
The letter
Mr. Rafferty just gave me,
it says
that when I retire from my labors
this coming Friday,
even though it will be
my 65th birthday on that day,
and I'll be too old to work…
…they're going to carry on
paying me anyway.
They will carry on paying me,
even though… I'm at home by the fire
and no longer employed. Um…
The letter says it's called, um…
"an old age pension."
Mr. Rafferty,
you made the announcement?
I pinned your notice on the wall,
but could not bring myself to announce it.
-It is… plain madness.
-It is the future, Mr. Rafferty.
My brother will soon stand for election,
and new electoral rules
mean that more ordinary workers
will be allowed to vote.
So you give them money for nothing?
And next week, we will announce phase two
of the new Guinness Workers'
Health and Benefits Scheme.
What the fuck is in phase two?
You've had enough shocks
for one day, Mr. Rafferty.
Yes, Father.
I am deadly serious.
Three cheers for Mr. Edward Guinness
and his mad fecking pension.
-Hip, hip…
-Hooray!
-Hip, hip…
-Hooray!
-Hip, hip…
-Hooray!
Christine?
How the hell did you get in here?
I came here to tell you that it's decided.
-What is?
-You and I.
Your father's will has left you penniless.
You will be dependent
on your brother's charity.
"Penniless" and "dependent"
are like twin tigers
which will scare away
any woman of substance
who is looking for a husband.
But if you marry me,
you won't need your father's money
or your brother's charity.
My endowment is small,
but if we are in love, we can be happy.
And we can live in London if you want.
There's a doctor, and he can help you
stop drinking and taking gas.
-I've stopped.
-I've written to him.
And he said there's
no such thing as a hopeless case.
Except when it comes to love.
When it comes to loving me, Christine,
you are a hopeless case.
Can you sit down, please?
Ah…
This afternoon, I walked,
sober and decided,
down to Portobello Barracks,
where I signed my name to this document
applying for enlistment.
My birth and my name should guarantee me
a commission and the rank of captain.
They're still reviewing the application,
but… they should look favorably
upon someone
whose name is on a million bottles.
Once, I used my name as a pass.
I have to prove
that I can do things on my own.
I'm gonna prove my father wrong.
His will
has given me purpose.
For that, I might one day thank him.
Do you have road boots?
Too big for you.
I'd like to borrow them, please.
So…
…show me.
The question was, where was God?
The answer was, he was nowhere.
When my husband walked to Swinford,
in rags, to get seed,
it rained enough to baptize you.
I got a message
he got as far back as the castle.
And I found him starved to death,
covered in crows and magpies.
Three children followed him.
Donal,
Brin and Niamh.
Are your children buried here?
We were too weak to dig graves.
They dug a hole.
They left it open, and they threw them in.
When you're that hungry, you can't cry.
They gave us seed from the parish in '48,
but we were so hungry, we cooked the seed.
There was nothing left to plant.
There was typhus, dysentery.
Now, we had nothing left for rent.
So that Baron Browne
from that house your father bought,
he started the evictions.
He sent down his "Crowbar Invincibles."
Threw us into the field.
Two more children, gone.
Cait and Fionn.
Then there was the line of skeletons,
in rags, walking to Killala Quay,
where the soldiers put them
on a boat bound for Quebec.
And they were gone.
And we were left.
What else do you want me to show you?
Why did you stay here?
Settle your head, pet ♪
Them.
Send your bones to sleep ♪
Every moment that we rest ♪
Brings a moment's peace ♪
You not be missing nothing ♪
The sunshine sleeping too ♪
The stars are lining up, love ♪
To watch your dreams with you ♪
And if you make a wish on one… ♪
When you walk… there's a step you miss.
-What?
-The way you walk.
These boots are too big for me.
Well, there's a weakness on your left.
What weakness?
When you walk,
sometimes you have to step forward.
Then, when you bend your knee,
it almost gives way.
I have felt a weakness lately.
But I had a doctor in Dublin
do tests on my blood,
and he said there was
nothing wrong with me.
Well, it's me that's wrong, so.
You should get back to your carriage.
It's going to rain.
The important thing is,
I came here to help you.
I'm planning what I can do
to help you people.
Goodnight world, goodnight ♪
Dear Arthur and Edward,
I came to Ashford Castle
to survey the property
that our father left to us.
Along the way, I was taken ill.
For reasons I don't need to divulge,
I was held up in a village
which is part of the Ashford estate.
I saw the devastation that was caused
by the famine 20 years ago.
I also saw the conditions
that the people here still endure.
Not absolute starvation anymore,
but close to it,
just a few miles from our own front door.
When I get back to Dublin…
"…I suggest we have a meeting.
I will propose, in the name of God,
that from now on,
at least 10% of all profits…"
Oh, Annie.
"…10% of all profits made
from the brewing business be devoted
to feeding, housing and saving the souls
of the deserving poor
on all of our estates."
"Also in Dublin,
and eventually in London and beyond."
So we save the whole fucking world.
"Our family motto is…"
-"'Spes mea in Deo.'"
-"Spes mea in Deo."
"'My hope is in God.'"
"With God's help, let us bring hope
to all those who currently
live without hope."
"All my love, your devoted sister, Anne."
Well, 10% is an absurd amount,
even for little Annie.
Tell me about this woman
who's going to be my new sister-in-law.
You don't agree 10% is absurd?
I think the principle is sound,
but we would need to agree on an amount.
No, no. No, we have a duty of care
to the people who work for us,
not to the people who happen
to be standing at the roadside
looking hungry when
our sister's carriage breaks down.
It wasn't her carriage.
It was her mind, then,
which has broken down.
We are going to need a set of values.
Is this you putting forward
an idea for us to discuss,
or have you already decided?
Arthur, if you want to get elected…
you need more than a wife at your side.
-What has my election got to do with it?
-Well…
What effect do you think our decision
to introduce old-age pensions
will have on your vote?
It will increase it. Maybe double it.
It wasn't my fucking decision.
You presented it to me.
Yes, as part of a wider plan, Arthur.
-Say it's you and Anne against me.
-This isn't hide and fucking seek.
No, no, no, no, no. No, and I'm the what?
Hmm?
The stubborn one. The bored one.
The one who's only ever half-listening.
-Mostly, yes.
-Oh, well, now you have my attention.
Ten fucking percent gets my attention.
I have your attention?
Good.
Read this.
"Byron Hedges."
Who the fuck is Byron Hedges?
That is a copy
of a letter of authority
that I gave to him to take to New York.
You gave to him?
Well, you were at the cathedral
discussing… floral arrangements.
You look like the little brother
who did something wrong.
What have you done wrong, Eddie?
Byron Hedges is a Fenian.
His connections in New York
are with the Fenian Brotherhood.
One, two, three.
Now you explode.
Hah.
It's my fault, really…
for being so distracted.
That is just a copy, Arthur.
The original is aboard a ship
that's already left Liverpool.
When I am back from Portugal,
after the wedding,
I will begin to assert
some kind of rational control.
Yes. Yes, yes, yes, the future, Arthur.
In the future, we will see
both sides of the Home Rule debate.
For now, we are in the middle.
Our concern is the people.
What the fuck
do I care about the people for?
-I'm a Conservative.
-Benevolence equals votes.
Votes equal power.
Power equals expansion,
and expansion equals greater profits.
After the wedding, we will sit down
and speak rationally, Brother.
Not 10%.
5%.
And some of that
we spend in New York and Boston.
Guns and ammunition
for our new Fenian friends.
No, Arthur, of course not.
Charitable works.
And since I have your attention,
I will propose
that from now on,
in America and elsewhere in the world,
the new symbol of Guinness
will be this.
It will be our trademark,
and it'll represent what we are.
The harp of Irish hero Brian Boru,
a symbol of all Ireland.
Of Celtic Ireland.
Of Catholic Ireland.
You wanna put it on the fire?
Christ!
All this goodness,
this kindness,
pensions and harps, it's just…
You're submitting to fucking blackmail!
Fuck off! Fuck off!
The Fenians want my vote, and bit by bit,
you would nudge me to their side
just to save a fucking factory!
Brewery!
Yes, and to save your name, Arthur.
Are you brave?
Are you that brave?
Are you that brave
to have it all revealed?
So do you want me to continue
to walk the tightrope?
All those in favor
of adopting the Irish harp
as the Guinness trademark,
say aye.
Aye.
Mr. Guinness,
would you like to order something
whilst you're waiting for your guest?
Yes.
-Two bottles of Guinness.
-Of course, sir.
Madam, the staff entrance is
around the back in Sackville Place.
No, Colin, the lady is expected.
Follow me.
Mr. Guinness, Miss Ellen Cochrane.
Miss Cochrane.
Please take a seat.
What's she doing
here with him?
As you see, I'm known in the city.
I imagine you knew the effect
my entrance would have.
I knew very well
the effect your entrance would have.
The black armband is
for Michael Barrett, I assume?
For an innocent man
who was lynched in a public place, yes.
I actually sent a letter
to the home secretary
suggesting his clemency.
But in London,
unlike in Dublin,
the Guinnesses don't always get their way.
For now, yes.
-Would you like me to pour, sir?
-No, I'll pour.
I don't drink in the daytime.
These are not for drinking.
They are purely
for the purpose of illustration.
What illustration?
You see, there is a particular technique
when it comes to pouring Guinness.
When you start to pour,
the beer, quite rightly,
is very excited to be free.
And it fizzes in the glass.
So while the first glass settles
and gets used to the situation,
you start to pour the next.
And then you wait
for the porter to calm down.
I call it the Guinness minute.
I was told that you wanted to meet me.
Can you get to the point?
This is my point.
These two half-poured glasses of Guinness
represent the state of Ireland.
At this moment,
excited by your dream of independence,
but in need of a little time… to reflect.
And you reduce our struggles to beer?
It's what I know, Miss Cochrane.
I also know…
that when you complete the pour,
to fill the glass, it is important
that you do it slowly,
carefully…
evenly.
And, as with your political struggle,
you will only be successful
if you keep… your… head.
I'm still not drinking
what you poured me, Mr. Guinness.
Miss Cochrane, what I am offering
is that we go on a journey
as honorable people.
And we go on the journey together.
A long, slow stroll, arm in arm
with the capitalists and the unionists?
The situation is simple.
When your brother is elected,
he will use all that famous
Guinness power and influence
to make the English parliament see
the wisdom of Irish independence.
We can help him by showing him
that the Fenians are not wild bandits.
I wanted to meet you here,
in a public place,
to make a statement
that all of Dublin society can understand.
Also… my brother is getting married.
And we are inviting
carefully selected Dubliners
who represent different parts of society.
I'm invited to a Guinness wedding?
I know you are not married,
but you can bring your brother.
I'm keen to meet him as well.
I have certain rules
which I mostly abide by.
Sometimes, I break my rules.
Crawlin' up the walls
Lookin’ like a rabid hound ♪
Get up outta that
Get up off the ground ♪
I’ll tie ya to that chair
If ya don’t simmer down ♪
You’re the world's worst
Patron saint of stout ♪
Actually, didn’t I bar yous last week? ♪
And what are ya doin’
With a spliff in your mouth? ♪
Alright then, never mind
What’ll it be, lads? ♪
Another round, another round
Another round, another round ♪
Another round, another round
Another round, another round ♪
Another round, another round
Another round, another round… ♪
I'm assuming green calico
and a woolen shawl will be just grand?
And a grand day it'll be.