Mapp and Lucia (2014) s01e03 Episode Script
Episode 3
1 Oh, Kenneth - it's pouring! Ooh! 'Tis a gaesty nicht.
But the rain'll not stop Mrs Lucas.
What-ho, Major! Dashed poor evening for it.
Puts me in mind of the Jumna during monsoon.
Still, if anyone can warm our hearts, it's darling Lulu, isn't that so, quaint one? Race you to the front door.
Last one in has to sit next to Mapp! The least she could have done is sent her car.
It's a long way for you on a wet evening, just to listen to some piano-playing.
Well, it is a bit of a chore.
The Moonlight Sonata.
She'll only play the first movement, of course, the slow one.
The second and third are quite beyond her.
~ You think so? ~ I know so.
And as for her flawless Italian and her beautiful art pah! What do you mean, "pah"? Oh, she's a fraud, Diva, dear, mark my words.
And I intend to prove it.
A musical composition is like an architectural building - it must be built up and constructed.
It must have colour, and it must have line, otherwise I cannot concede you have the right to say you HAVE music ~ Argh! Ah ~ Brrr! Thank you, Grosvenor.
Darling, don't go.
Mapp will be more unbearable than ever without you to slap her down every now and again.
Naughty little Irene! But go I must, I'm afraid.
I'm sure you'll have quite forgotten me by the end of September.
Never.
That's a lovely dress, dear - is that new? Yes, rose-madder.
Do you, ah like it? Oh.
Well, I'm not a mind-reader! Sorry we're late! Not an easy journey on foot.
Diva, Elizabeth - which is which? You could be sisters.
Ha-ha(!) Help yourselves to some food.
Oh, what a shame the weather is so cattivo tonight.
Wouldn't have missed it, Lucia, darling.
I'm positively agog with anticipation.
Beethoven AND tomatoes yum! Aye, 'tis awfy dreich! Still, it's a sassenach summer.
We have to take the bree wi' the barm, as they say.
Quite.
Would you like to take your seats for the recital, please? Excuse me, sorry Lights, Grosvenor.
(Oh, ruddy hell.
) ~ Oh! ~ So sorry.
~ Excuse me.
Apologies, Mrs Bartlett, I didn't see you down there.
~ Mind out, dear.
~ Oh! Excuse me, Mrs Plaistow.
There we are - all done and dusted.
Ha-ha ah! Divine.
Thank you! Charming.
Indeed.
You play like a dream, Lulu - isn't that right, Diva? Oh, goodness me - she seems to have fallen fast asleep, poor dear! Oi, Lady Godiva - wake up! Oh, is it over? Wonderful.
The music, I mean! So glad you enjoyed it.
Yes.
Wish I could hear more.
Hear, hear! Some divine Mozart, then, if you insist.
Georgie, Georgie, you must promise not to scold me if I break down.
Lulu, I should so love to hear the second and third movements of the Moonlight.
Such a rousing contrast to the first, don't you think? Indeed, although I rather feel they resemble 11 o'clock in the morning and 3 o'clock in the afternoon, whereas his first movement, with its exquisite pathos, is far the more fitting for an evening recital, wouldn't you agree? Uno, due, tre So many movements of Mozart, I began to think that he'd discovered the secret of perpetual motion and we should be stuck here till Doomsday.
She's planning another one already.
"Un po di musica", she calls it.
Well, I'm sorry - there's nothing "po" about that.
Yes, and isn't it unfortunate, because I hope you haven't forgotten that you promised to come in that very night - Thursday, isn't it? - and play piquet with me? No, I didn't.
Oh, yes, I did! Anyway, I do.
~ Yes.
~ So, consequently, we shall have to refuse dear Lucia's invitation.
What a shame(!) Excuse me.
I say, did anyone read in the evening paper about the Prince of Wales? I believe I may have glanced at it.
Isn't he coming to visit Lord Ardingly? Yes! And what's the station for Ardingly Park? Tilling! Well, how pleasant for him.
He will catch a glimpse of our beautiful little town.
Ought we try to see him, do you think? I think not, Evie, dear.
One mustn't condone the recent fad of treating minor royalty as celebrities.
Much better to allow him to go about his business, I would have thought - wouldn't you, Mr Wyse? As in all things, Mrs Lucas, I quite concur.
And I would like to propose a toast.
To Mrs Lucas, to thank her for a most memorable musical evening, and to Miss Mapp, for enabling us all to make her acquaintance.
Mrs Lucas Miss Mapp.
Mrs Lucas, Miss Mapp.
Ah, did Cadman deliver the new invitations this morning? Yes, ma'am.
~ Sorry ~ Yes ma'am, he did.
Thank you, Grosvenor.
Give me that.
Go on, tell her! Everything all right, Foljambe? Begging your pardon, ma'am No.
No, it isn't.
I know she's only here for another fortnight, but TWO musical evenings in one week.
How she spoils us(!) Well, she says she will start a bridge class if we like.
Ha! And who will the pupils be? ~ Well, I know one who won't.
~ And one and one makes two.
We've been perfectly happy here for many years, going our own way, living in sweet harmony together, and I, for one, do not intend to put my neck under the yoke.
I wouldn't want to appear ungrateful.
And who is she to say you cannot go and see the Prince of Wales? We may never have the opportunity again! Precisely.
It is of no consequence to me personally, but I know many people who are very interested in the comings and goings of the royal family, and who is Mrs Lucas of Riseholme to look down on them for it? Still, I think she was probably right.
She even offered to give lessons in flower-arranging.
She said she thought the church displays were a little mundane.
Oh? That's settled then.
Piquet, Wasters, Thursday.
You did get my invitation, didn't you? Oh, yes! Yes! So pretty, isn't it? Hmm.
I shall be very sorry to leave Tilling.
Mind you, I'm sure there's plenty to catch up on in Riseholme.
Georgie, there's something I want to tell you.
Oh, I'm sure I shall like it - go on.
No, you won't like it at all.
Foljambe and Cadman are going to marry.
~ When? ~ Not for the present.
Not till we get back to Riseholme.
She informed me just this morning.
I I'm sorry.
It's the most dreadful thing that's ever happened to me.
I didn't think Foljambe was so selfish.
15 years, and now she goes and breaks up my home like this My dear, that's a rather excessive statement.
You can get another parlour-maid.
There are others.
If you come to that, Cadman can get another wife.
You'll miss him too, of course.
Oh, I don't think he means to leave me.
What makes you say that? Then perhaps Foljambe doesn't mean to leave me! That's rather different.
She'll have to look after his house by day, and at night .
.
at night, he'd like her to be there.
Oh! Horrible to think of! What can she see in him? I've a good mind to go and live in an hotel.
Well, I'm glad you're not overreacting.
Sweet Susan, Mr Wyse, how-de-do? De-do.
Had your invitation to the next "po di musica" on Thursday? We have.
An unusual inscription, I confess.
A simple "musica" would, I thought, have been more ordinary.
I'm sure Mrs Lucas has it perfectly, because she is quite the Italian scholar.
Readings from Dante, the next threat - erm, treat.
Yes, we must ask Mrs Lucas if we may bring your sister, Algernon.
~ Your sister? ~ Yes, joyful news.
Amelia is spending a few days with us before heading over to Ardingly Park for the Prince of Wales.
~ Prince of Wales.
~ I long to hear her and Mrs Lucas talk Italian together.
A lovely language to listen to, though Amelia laughs at my poor efforts when I attempt it.
Yes, that would be something, wouldn't it? Joyful news, indeed.
Au reservoir! Ah! ~ Lucia! ~ Lucia! ~ Good morning, ladies.
Lucia, thank you for your party last night.
~ Lovely.
~ Yes.
Oh, no, no - don't thank me - thank the immortal Beethoven.
You kindly invited us to another musical evening.
Yes? But the thing is, erm - not not that we couldn't change it, of course - but we did, Diva and I, Mrs Plaistow, arrange Oh, what a beautiful morning! Such a relief to have moved on from that dreary storm.
I trust you are all well? ~ Yes, very well - thank you, dear.
~ Jolly good.
Oh, while I have you, I wonder would it be at all possible to borrow your tagliacarte? Mine seems to have gone missing.
My my-my what, dear? Your tagliacarte.
Am I not saying it right? It's Italian for paper-knife.
Oh! Oh, no - taglia-CAR-te.
~ Ah.
~ Ah, yes, your pronunciation did fox me for a little.
I'll have a word with my domestica and have her it sent round.
~ How kind.
~ I was just explaining about Thursday Yes, the "po-di-mu" - what a thrill.
I have JUST received my invitation - Withers is so indolent these days - and I clapped my hands for joy.
Red-letter days! ~ But the piquet? ~ Piquet's off, dear.
Well, excellent.
Evie? Evie, dear, you were saying something? Oh, yes - delighted.
Can't wait.
Well - goodbye.
What was all that about? I can't eat another plate of tomatoes - I had heartburn half the night.
I just bumped into the Wyses outside Twistevant's and Susan let slip that Mr Wyse's sister is arriving in Tilling tomorrow night.
~ The Contessa di Fara-di-whatsit? ~ Faraglione, yes, the one who lives in Naples.
They want to bring her to Lucia's po-di-mu, and I wouldn't miss that for the world! ~ Why? ~ She'll be forced to talk Italian! Mr Wyse is always saying what a treat it would be to hear them talking together, and I'm convinced that Lucia doesn't know any.
Well, that would be rather amusing.
Being put down a peg or two certainly wouldn't hurt her.
Precisely.
She won't be able to wriggle out of it and she'll finally be exposed.
Oh, how I wish I could see her face when she hears the news.
What fabulous news.
I-I-I said I said, "What fabulous news.
" No - of course, I should be delighted.
Yes.
Un grande onore.
Thank you so much, Susan, goodbye.
Oh, dear.
Can't you put it off? ~ Sprain your thumb or something? ~ Not a bit of good.
She'll be here for a week.
Naturally, I have to avoid meeting her altogether.
~ That's a bit excessive, isn't it? ~ She speaks Italian.
Fluently.
Ah.
The only thing I can think of is influenza.
Rather a bore, not to be able to go outside.
I have my secret garden.
It's not overlooked.
~ What about me? ~ Oh, I'm sure you'll manage.
I can't have influenza too - it would be too suspicious.
I'm bound to meet the Contessa and she'll see in a minute I can't talk Italian.
~ Well? ~ It'll react on you.
You and I are supposed to talk Italian together, and when it's obvious I can't say more than three things in it, the fat's in the fire, however much influenza you have.
I never thought of that.
It's evident you haven't grasped the situation at all.
Oh, Georgie Oo not cwoss wiv poor Lucia? I was rather, but never mind that now.
What am I to do? Che faro, in fact.
For goodness' sake, don't talk Italian - it's that we're trying to avoid.
It's odd we've got to break the habit of doing something we can't actually do.
You're right, you can't have influenza as well.
If we both had it as the Contessa arrived, that Mapp might easily put two and two together.
Her mind's horrid enough for anything.
Oh how tiresome.
~ I think you'll have to go away.
~ But I don't want to go away! I have to sort out the situation with Foljambe I can see it all, Georgie.
You've not been looking well lately My dear, you're the picture of health, really - I've never seen you looking younger.
.
.
so you've gone off to Folkestone for a few days' sea air.
You needn't bathe.
You can take my car, for I shan't be able to use it, and you'll have Foljambe, of course, to valet you.
You must start this afternoon before the Contessa gets here.
I'll telephone you to say when you can come back.
And in the morning, I'll begin phase two.
~ Buongiorno! ~ Ah, Mrs Lucas.
Buongiorno - come va? Many thanks, Mrs Lucas, for your kind invitation, Amelia is most looking forward to your "po di musica".
It will be gran piacere to meet her, and molto amabile to speak la bella lingua again.
Alas, poor Georgie will not be joining us.
He is un po ammalato and will be spending a settimana by the mare.
Peste a viscere.
You must come over early, Diva, dear, and hear my fugue before l'arriva della contessa nobile.
Cara Elisabetta - come ti va? Bene What did she say? Dashed if I know.
She said she can't wait to talk Italian.
I hope you know what you're doing, Elizabeth.
Now dear, about our dresses - one of us is going to have to dye.
Beg your pardon? A new colour.
And I don't think it's fair I Oh, I've already done it.
Rose-madder's over according to The Ladies' Companion.
The new shade is Kingfisher Blue.
Grosvenor, close the shutters, and then come and see me in my room.
I have instructions for you to be held in the strictest confidence.
~ Which shutters? ~ All of them! Poor Mrs Lucas has submitted to a bout of influenza.
Oh, calamity! And on the morning of her party, too.
She says that the attack is sharp but not serious and that she's distraught at not being able to welcome your sister in person.
Well, Amelia will be disappointed, no doubt about it.
Algernon, I think it only fitting that we should step unto the breach, as it were, and host a dinner for Amelia here, at Starling.
My dear, what a beneficent suggestion.
I shall scribble the notes myself and have Figgis distribute them.
Ah, Grosvenor, I've just heard the news.
How is our dear patient faring? No anxiety, Miss, she just needs warmth and quiet.
So might we expect to see her up and about in a day or two? Oh, I couldn't say, Miss, but no doubt she'd thank you for your enquiry.
Now, if you don't mind, I've got some broth on the stove.
No admittance, I'm afraid.
However, Grosvenor informs me that we can expect to see our darling Lulu up and about again in a day or two.
Hopefully, she won't miss the Contessa altogether.
What rotten luck.
Exactly.
I shall have to shop for dinner, now.
I've got nothing in.
Aren't you dining at the Wyse's? No.
Ah.
That is a pity.
Perhaps they're introducing the Contessa to a few "intimes" only.
So like Mr Wyse, so discerning.
Well, I'm going, and so are the Bartletts.
I saw Evie at the vicarage just now, fretting about what to wear.
Oh.
Well, I should pop home, then, see if there's anything Yes.
Au res! ~ Janet, any note from Mr Wyse? ~ No, ma'am.
Mrs Wyse? Oh.
Figgis? Is that for Mrs Plaistow? Best leave that with me - she's popping into Wasters for a spot of piquet.
Better wait in, then, just in case.
Ah - good evening, Major.
Miss Elizabeth.
What a striking frock! Oh, thank you.
~ It's Kingfisher Blue.
~ Very modern.
May I? Right, I'll be off now, then, ma'am.
Oh, ah.
Good night Janet.
I've left a tray in the kitchen, ma'am, just in case Ah - well, thank you.
Amelia, dear? This is the Reverend Bartlett and his charming wife.
Ah, yes - born in Birmingham but talks Scotch, calls himself "Padre" and is a maestro at bridge.
Am I right? Er, yes.
That's correct.
Algernon regularly writes to his sister with all the news from Tilling.
Oh! His letters have me crying with laughter.
It's like meeting one of my favourite characters from a book.
He's just how I imagined.
And where's the little wife? Here, Your Ladyship.
Don't call me "Ladyship".
Only servants do that.
Contessa, if you will, or Amelia if we become friends.
Now, tell me three bits of gossip or one big secret.
Miss Mapp, Major Flint.
Welcome! Quite a feast we have in store, for my sister has brought quail's eggs from Capri.
~ Oh.
~ Oh, splendid! Is Mrs Plaistow not with you? Uh Oh! Hello? Dear lady, I apologise for resorting to the telephone apparatus but a most terrible thing has happened.
Can you hear? Yes, yes, I can hear.
By the most calamitous mistake, the note I wrote you this morning was never delivered.
Figgis conveyed it to Miss Mapp's house in error and she, dear lady, didn't know it was there.
I shall certainly dismiss him unless you plead for him.
~ Can you hear? ~ Yes.
Well, I come on my knees to you.
Can you possibly forgive the joint stupidity of Figgis and myself and honour us with your presence at dinner? ~ We will wait for you, of course.
~ Delighted - be there in ten.
Many thanks, dear lady.
Oh.
What do I do now, Figgis? And how long will you be staying in Tilling, Contessa? Well, that depends upon the gentlemen.
If the Major and the Padre and Twistevant the greengrocer all fall in love with me and fight duels over me, then I will stay forever.
You may take that for granted, by Jove! Oh, dear - I can see we have vexed our Miss Mapp.
She obviously wants you all to herself, Major.
Tell me, why haven't you asked her to marry you yet, hmm? Well, I, er We should have more marriages in Tilling.
Ah, here's our dear Mrs Plaistow, at last.
How's your canary, dear, hm? Quite recovered from its nasty bout of pip? Yes, thank you - I Jolly good.
Oh, look - you're wearing the same frock as Miss Mapp.
How .
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hilarious! Tell me, did you copy her or did she copy you? I Oh, Algie, you must get them to sit together at dinner, it's too perfect! Oh, ho-ho! ~ That is the funniest thing ~ Yes, the the dresses.
Oh, that was a low blow, Elizabeth! How was I to know? You weren't even invited! Well, it appears that I was, actually! Next year? I want to give him time to find someone else.
Look, I can't bear to think of him all alone in the world.
He's not going to be all alone, is he? What about Mrs Lucas? ~ Oh come on, Jim ~ What? I don't think Mr George is the marrying type, ~ if you see what I mean.
~ Get away! You'll be telling me he wears a wig next! Oh, stop it! I'm sorry.
~ Night-night.
~ Night.
Good morning, Grosvenor! I've come for my daily bulletin.
Mrs Lucas is still confined to bed, but her fever has subsided.
Oh, that is good news.
Perhaps tomorrow she'll be out and about again.
I couldn't possibly say, Miss.
Well, give her my fondest love.
~ Miss Mapp! ~ Ha! ~ How-de-do? You look as if you're about to stage a break-in.
Ah, no, not at all, Countess, no.
I was In fact, I was just about to call on our ailing Mrs Lucas.
Ah, yes, your tenant.
Algie seems very keen to get us together ~ for a spot of lingua Italiana.
~ Yes, indeed that would be a treat, but apparently she has influenza.
Apparently? So we're led to believe.
Anyway, I want you to come shopping with me.
My brother told me that all the great ladies of Tilling go marketing in the morning, with big baskets.
Ha! It sounds absolutely comical.
Ha-ha.
Yes, I just feel it would be a good idea if I ~ From Mr Pillson, ma'am.
~ Thank you, Grosvenor.
That'll be all.
"Dearest Lucia, the most wonderful thing has happened.
"There's a family here at the hotel with whom I've made friends - "English father, Italian mother "and a little girl with a bow in her hair.
"Listen! The mother teaches the girl Italian "and sets her little themes to write on some subject or other, "corrects them and writes out a fair copy.
" ~ Buongiorno, Mr Pillson.
~ Ah, Buongiorno.
"Well, I was sitting in the lounge this morning "when the girl was having her lesson "and Mrs Brocklebank, that's her name, "asked me to suggest the subject for the theme, "and I had the most fantastic idea.
I said" Write a letter to an Italian Countess whom you've never seen before, saying how sorry you are to have cancelled your party, musical party, because you caught influenza.
You're so sorry not to have met her but hope she has had a pleasant stay with her brother.
"Aren't I clever? "The little girl wrote it out and the mother corrected it "and I begged her to let me have a copy because I adored Italian, though I couldn't speak it, "and it was so beautifully expressed.
" Grazie, senora.
"I haven't told this very well because I'm in a hurry to catch the post, "but I enclose Mrs B's Italian letter "and you just see whether it doesn't do the trick too marvellously.
"Your devoted, Georgie.
" ~ Elizabeth.
~ Diva.
I was just on my way to post a letter.
~ With no address and no stamp? ~ Hm.
Thank goodness for your sharp eyes, dear.
Well, I'm just on my way to the draper's.
~ Got to dye my dress again, no thanks to you.
~ I don't follow? ~ You cribbed my Kingfisher Blue! ~ Cribbed? Cribbed means taking what isn't yours, dear.
If you'd only acted in a straightforward manner Would you kindly explain to me how I have acted in a manner which is not straightforward? Or am I to understand that a monopoly on dyeing dresses has been bestowed on you by an Act of Parliament? Crimson Lake, page 32, July's Vogue.
I wouldn't advise cribbing that one, as it would clash terribly with your face! You've got a black heart, Diva Plaistow.
Nonsense.
Heart's as red as anybody's.
When you've finished looking down on us all from your ivory tower, you'll see it wasn't me who started this war, it was you! I shall see you at lunch! Mm! Mm.
This is to be delivered to the Wyses at a quarter past one precisely, Grosvenor, by hand.
Very good, ma'am.
~ Your costume is laid out on your bed, as you requested.
~ Splendid.
Lovely view! Isn't it? Got you! Got you! I knew it! I knew it, I knew it Eeeecco! Now at last we can begin.
A thousand apologies, dear Contessa.
I was painting up in the church tower and the time quite flew away with me.
Let's have a gander.
Lawks, Mapp! Welcome to the 20th century.
I love it! Oh, quaint one.
Well, it isn't anywhere near finished, but the pretty colours were quite inspiring.
Shall we? ~ Mmm ~ Mmm Thank you.
Ah, I will give anyone three guesses as to what I saw this morning.
Mr Wyse? Padre? You shall all guess.
Is that for me, Figgis? Scusi, everyone.
It's about someone we all know, who is still an invalid.
You mean Lucia, then? Getting warm, Irene, dear.
Yes, I happened to glance down into my pet little garden from the top of the tower and there she was in the middle of the lawn! How was she dressed and what was she doing? Three guesses each, shall it be? Oh, but never have I read such a letter! It's from Mrs Lucas and all in Italian, and such Italian! I have lived in Italy for ten years, but my Italian is a bungle compared to this.
May I? Oh, mio dio, what an escape I have had! You had a plan to bring me and your Mrs Lucas together to hear us talk, did you not? I confess I did.
Then she would have known how poorly I talk Italian in comparison with herself.
I will read it to you.
It is like music I am sure it is absolutely wonderful.
But didn't you yourself, Mr Wyse, think it odd that anyone who knows Italian should put "un po di musica" on her invitation card? Then he was wrong.
No doubt this phrase is just a little humorous quotation of something that we do not know.
Like "au reservoir".
Exactly.
It isn't a mistake, it's a joke.
Well, in any case, no-one has tried yet to guess what I saw from the top of the tower.
Major Benjy, you have a try! How was she dressed and what was she doing? Couldn't say, I'm sure.
Sure she was very nicely dressed, from what I know of her.
Well, I will give you a little hint.
It is not what one expects from someone with influenza! Er You, then, Mr Wyse, if Major Benjy gives up.
My ingenuity, I am sure, will not be equal to the occasion.
You will be obliged to tell me.
Have a try! Padre? Er, I cannae think.
A bathing costume! Yellow and black, like a wasp.
There she was in the middle of the lawn, skipping! Fancy! Skipping! With influenza! Er That is indeed good news.
We may be encouraged to hope that our friend is well on the road to convalescence.
~ Here, here.
~ Indeed.
Here, here.
And thank you for telling us, Miss Mapp.
~ Oh, shush! ~ Oh, come on! It's impossible to believe that Lucia's been ill all this time.
And then there's Mr Pillson's sudden disappearance - that was never properly explained.
If I were you, Elizabeth, I should hold my tongue about it all.
I mean, you got hold of a false scent.
~ She was skipping! ~ Good! I mean, you wanted us to believe that Lucia was avoiding "Faradiddlyeony".
All wrong from beginning to end.
One of your worst shots.
And how do we know that she actually wrote that letter? Oh, Elizabeth! I know we've had our differences recently, but I don't like to see you make a fool of yourself.
If you want my advice, as a friend, then give it up! She'll be gone soon and .
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things can get back to normal.
Poor Elizabeth.
My heart aches for her! I'm sure that carping bitterness must make her wretched.
I daresay it's only physical.
Liver, perhaps, or a touch of acidity.
A little skipping might do wonders for her.
She should've stuck to the yoga.
Omm! I cannot, as you will readily understand, make the first approaches to her after the dreadful innuendoes she has made, but I should like her to know that I bear her no malice, no malice at all.
My dear, what a joy you are! You can do everything.
You play like an angel, you can skip, play bridge, and you've got such a lovely nature that you don't bear Mapp the slightest grudge for her foul plots.
You're adorable.
Won't you ask me to come and live with you in Riseholme? I would, you know.
I'm sorry, Irene.
I can't.
Arrivederci! Arrivederci! Ciao! ~ Ciao! ~ All right.
Ciao, ciao! It all worked without a hitch.
And it was Mrs Brocklebank's letter that really clapped the lid on Elizabeth.
I copied it out very carelessly, as though I scribbled it off without a thought.
Really, Georgie, I turned the whole thing into a stroke of genius.
But it was a stroke of genius already.
My dear, all the credit shall be yours, then.
I don't suppose there was a more thoroughly thwarted woman in all of Sussex than she.
And what's so awful is she was right all the time, about your Italian and your influenza and everything.
~ Perfectly maddening for her.
~ Ah, yes! Poor thing.
Mmm.
Now, do tell me all about your trip.
Yes, ah, all very pleasant.
Lots of lovely shops and sea air, but, um, I couldn't help thinking about the Foljambe situation.
~ Yes, I've been ~ Let me speak, Lucia, please.
I've given this a lot of thought, and, well, if they do decide to marry, which looks ~ .
.
then wouldn't it make things easier if ~ Yes? If you and I, perhaps ~ Then they could stay together ~ Georgie ~ We could manage it perfectly.
Separate rooms ~ Georgie, before you say anything you might regret, I too have been thinking about the Foljambe situation and I may have a solution that's a little less drastic.
So what we thought, Mrs Lucas and I, was that I could hire you a charwoman four times a week to keep your house so you can come to me in the daytime and then at night, you can .
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be with your husband.
You'd do that? Just to keep me? Of course I would, Foljambe.
I've never wanted anything more.
Oh, sir! Now, now, listen, I shall never manage to call you Cadman.
You must keep your maiden name, like an actress.
Now, run along and tell him and let me know your decision.
Thank you, sir, ma'am.
Thank you! Oh, you're very kind, Georgie.
Very kind.
Oh, purely selfish, of course, but thank you for the solution.
Much better than you know.
Georgie .
.
how long have you and I been dear friends for? Much longer than either of us would care to think.
We're both getting on, aren't we? And both of us rather alone in this world.
But Lucia, I didn't mean I wasn't thinking straight! People like us with this strong bond of friendship, we can look forward to growing old without any qualms.
Tranquillity comes with age, and that horrid thing that Freud calls "sex" .
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can be expunged.
Expunged? Yes.
That's all I wanted to say.
I do hope I haven't hurt your feelings.
But our friendship is perfect just as it is.
Oh, yes.
Yes, of course you're right - right a thousand times! We're fine just as we are.
Ah, what a relief! Thank you.
Well, I'm glad you're not too upset.
Hello! ~ Good morrow, fair dame! ~ Oh, Padre.
~ Such a splendid morning.
~ Aye.
How goes the festooning of the station? ~ Oh, 'tis a bonny sight, i'fegs.
~ Indeed.
It's so charming of the working folk to take such pride in our little town.
I'm sure the Prince will be most gratified.
He's expected on the three o'clock, I believe.
The wee wifey's awfully excited, though I know it's not the Tilling way to admit as much.
I wouldn't know, Padre.
I only came to pick up a parcel.
There you go, madam, one timetable.
You're very lucky - it's the last one we have left, quite a number of folks wanting them this week.
Most kind.
Dear Lucia, how we've all missed you these past few days.
Naughty microbes, for keeping you from us all this time.
~ Oh, thank you, Elizabeth, dear.
~ Is it safe to approach? ~ Oh, absolutely.
Mwa I was talking to Mr Pipstow about the completion of your tenancy and he suggested, nay - insisted, that I carry out a little inspection of the property, just to, ah ~ Well, I'm sure you understand.
~ Oh, of course.
Such an inconvenience but we are bound to follow the letter of the law.
Oh.
A little damage to the wall, there.
So back to your lovely Riseholme tomorrow.
A little chip in the saucer, that.
~ A mere trifle, but it's worth mentioning.
~ Yes All reparations shall be settled before I leave, Elizabeth, have no fear.
What time will that be, dear? Just so I can tell Withers.
The whole house will have to be thoroughly cleansed before I can move my humble possessions back where they belong.
~ We shall be gone by nine.
~ 9am.
~ It's quite a drive.
If you'd be so kind as to spread the word among our other dear friends - Georgie and I would be delighted to see them this afternoon, should they wish to pop in and bid us farewell.
I'm not quite up to my morning shop today, so I'd rather see them after lunch.
Shall we say three? Three? But that's .
.
perfect.
I shall let it be known.
Oh, quite a bit of fraying on that pelmet over there, do you see? I've promised Miss Mapp the run of the house, with the exception of my bedroom, of course.
Very good, madam.
Air the sheets and the linen in the kitchen yard, then you may begin to pack my cases.
Are you sure about this, Lucia? Georgie, I've never been more sure of anything.
I hope we get a chance to say goodbye to everyone.
Three o'clock, Elizabeth will invite them all over to Mallards.
There you are! Oh, my sweet piggies! Cruel of her to shut you up in a box like that.
Let's get you back where you belong.
Gone? I'm afraid so.
Left first thing.
I happened to glimpse them as I was taking your curtains down for washing, Diva, dear.
That's odd.
Without so much as a "by your leave"? I don't believe you.
Come in and check, quaint one.
The whole place is quite empty, I assure you.
Couldn't wait to get back to Riseholme, obviously.
I call it rude.
Well, at least you'll be able to move back into Wasters, and Irene into Taormina and I into my .
.
beloved Mallards.
Maybe I could go to see the Prince of Wales.
That is, if you think that I don't see why not, dear.
Mrs Lucas was but a tourist, after all.
We need no longer be bound by her strictures.
What rubbish you're talking! She's been hounded out! Hounded out by hags and harridans! You should be ashamed, all of you! Oh! ~ Agh, it's ~ Sorry.
~ Oh! ~ Padre! ~ Miss Mapp! ~ Evie.
Oh, my - how smart you look! Ah, off to the station, I take it? Aye, a bonny flower'll bring oot the bees.
How true.
Well, I may as well walk with you, because I have to fill in a form about some lost luggage.
It's so irksome that one can't sort this out over the telephone.
Indeed.
Yes.
Top hole.
Fine body of men.
Ah.
Er, afternoon.
Um, I was hoping to catch a train to the links, but I seem to have forgotten me clubs.
Then perhaps you could turn your misfortune to advantage and catch a glimpse of the heir apparent, should he decide to grace us with his presence.
Oh, that's now, is it? Well, no harm in taking a dekko, as we're here and all.
Haven't missed him, have I? So, it was a cloche hat with a floral ribbon.
Do you recall the colour, Miss? Mmm, what's that? The colour of the hat you lost? Oh, yes.
It's, er, straw with some pink flowers .
.
and a blue rosette.
Is it him? No, dear, it doesn't appear to be.
Well, that's all sorted, then.
No need to fill in the He drove?! What's that, Miss? Maybe he's getting the 6.
20.
The Prince of Wales! He didn't come by train - he drove! Hoo! Hoo! Your Highness! Your Highness! Elizabeth, dear! Do you need any assistance? I do hope you're not hurt.
Not at all! I, um I just Oh! Oh.
Oh.
I So stupid.
My, um ankle turned.
Thank you! Mr Pillson.
I bought this, er, for my nephew.
His birthday's tomorrow.
Fancy running into you like that! Lucia! We thought you'd already gone.
No, Irene, dear, we're leaving tomorrow.
Whatever gave? Perhaps I wasn't clear with my instructions to my servants.
Do forgive me.
Oh, forgiven, Lulu, darling.
And it's so fortunate we had the chance to say a final au reservoir, before you depart.
Oh, yes, "au reservoir", such a charming quip.
I'm so pleased you brought it to Tilling, having heard it in Riseholme.
And fortunately on this occasion, very apt.
~ How so, dear? ~ Georgie? Lucia's just been to see a property for sale out by the marshes.
~ Grebe? ~ That's the one.
Heaps of space, and so much potential.
Mr Woolgar and Mr Pipstow were kind enough to drive us there.
I've fallen in love with this dear Tilling, and fully expect to settle here for good.
Angel! Oh, joy, lovely Lucia And I was rather hoping to settle here myself.
I don't know if your daughter would ever consider selling Mallards cottage Oh, I'm sure we could come to a suitable arrangement.
~ Riseholme's loss will be Tilling's gain.
~ Hear, hear! Well, in the absence of the prince, ~ three cheers for Mr Pillson and Mrs Lucas! Hip-hip! ~ No ~ Hoorah! ~ Hip-hip! ~ Hoorah! ~ Hip-hip! ~ Hoorah! .
.
Hoorah.
.
.
If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb If I were a wise man I would do my part Yet what I can, I give him Give my heart Give my heart.
"For unto you is born this day in the City of David "a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
"And this shall be a sign unto you.
"Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes" Is Elizabeth not reading this year? Mrs Lucas paid for new pipes for the organ, and Kenneth thought Well, SHE suggested "Glory to God in the highest, "and on Earth, peace, goodwill toward men.
" Amen.
Amen.
~ Merry Christmas, Padre.
~ Major.
Miss Elizabeth! Miss Elizabeth.
Oh, Major Benjy.
Wonderful service.
So moving.
Indeed.
I believe Mrs Lucas has invited us all round to mince pies and Mozart tomorrow evening.
~ Yes, sounds delightful, doesn't it? ~ No doubt, no doubt.
And yet those parties, you know beautiful music and grub and all, but Well Grebe's a long way off .
.
on a wet winter night.
There she is! Elizabeth! You'll have to come to our rescue.
We can't be trudging back and forth to Grebe every night, ~ not in this weather.
~ We don't want to be given glasses! ~ We do not want to learn about Dante and Homer and Beethoven! ~ Hear! She wants to dictate to us.
We don't need a dictator - we've already got a each other.
What is required .
.
of us all is a little firmness.
Elizabeth? I wonder if you might be interested in joining the Tilling choir.
Dear Padre's been exhorting me for some time to become more involved, and I feel it's my duty to oblige.
And you, Major Benjy - well, the baritones are woefully underpowered.
Sweet of you, Lucia, but I have just been discussing with Evie here ~ some thoughts of my own.
~ Oh, really? Ding dong, verily the sky Is riv'n with angel singing Merry Christmas, Georgie.
Merry Christmas, Irene.
But the rain'll not stop Mrs Lucas.
What-ho, Major! Dashed poor evening for it.
Puts me in mind of the Jumna during monsoon.
Still, if anyone can warm our hearts, it's darling Lulu, isn't that so, quaint one? Race you to the front door.
Last one in has to sit next to Mapp! The least she could have done is sent her car.
It's a long way for you on a wet evening, just to listen to some piano-playing.
Well, it is a bit of a chore.
The Moonlight Sonata.
She'll only play the first movement, of course, the slow one.
The second and third are quite beyond her.
~ You think so? ~ I know so.
And as for her flawless Italian and her beautiful art pah! What do you mean, "pah"? Oh, she's a fraud, Diva, dear, mark my words.
And I intend to prove it.
A musical composition is like an architectural building - it must be built up and constructed.
It must have colour, and it must have line, otherwise I cannot concede you have the right to say you HAVE music ~ Argh! Ah ~ Brrr! Thank you, Grosvenor.
Darling, don't go.
Mapp will be more unbearable than ever without you to slap her down every now and again.
Naughty little Irene! But go I must, I'm afraid.
I'm sure you'll have quite forgotten me by the end of September.
Never.
That's a lovely dress, dear - is that new? Yes, rose-madder.
Do you, ah like it? Oh.
Well, I'm not a mind-reader! Sorry we're late! Not an easy journey on foot.
Diva, Elizabeth - which is which? You could be sisters.
Ha-ha(!) Help yourselves to some food.
Oh, what a shame the weather is so cattivo tonight.
Wouldn't have missed it, Lucia, darling.
I'm positively agog with anticipation.
Beethoven AND tomatoes yum! Aye, 'tis awfy dreich! Still, it's a sassenach summer.
We have to take the bree wi' the barm, as they say.
Quite.
Would you like to take your seats for the recital, please? Excuse me, sorry Lights, Grosvenor.
(Oh, ruddy hell.
) ~ Oh! ~ So sorry.
~ Excuse me.
Apologies, Mrs Bartlett, I didn't see you down there.
~ Mind out, dear.
~ Oh! Excuse me, Mrs Plaistow.
There we are - all done and dusted.
Ha-ha ah! Divine.
Thank you! Charming.
Indeed.
You play like a dream, Lulu - isn't that right, Diva? Oh, goodness me - she seems to have fallen fast asleep, poor dear! Oi, Lady Godiva - wake up! Oh, is it over? Wonderful.
The music, I mean! So glad you enjoyed it.
Yes.
Wish I could hear more.
Hear, hear! Some divine Mozart, then, if you insist.
Georgie, Georgie, you must promise not to scold me if I break down.
Lulu, I should so love to hear the second and third movements of the Moonlight.
Such a rousing contrast to the first, don't you think? Indeed, although I rather feel they resemble 11 o'clock in the morning and 3 o'clock in the afternoon, whereas his first movement, with its exquisite pathos, is far the more fitting for an evening recital, wouldn't you agree? Uno, due, tre So many movements of Mozart, I began to think that he'd discovered the secret of perpetual motion and we should be stuck here till Doomsday.
She's planning another one already.
"Un po di musica", she calls it.
Well, I'm sorry - there's nothing "po" about that.
Yes, and isn't it unfortunate, because I hope you haven't forgotten that you promised to come in that very night - Thursday, isn't it? - and play piquet with me? No, I didn't.
Oh, yes, I did! Anyway, I do.
~ Yes.
~ So, consequently, we shall have to refuse dear Lucia's invitation.
What a shame(!) Excuse me.
I say, did anyone read in the evening paper about the Prince of Wales? I believe I may have glanced at it.
Isn't he coming to visit Lord Ardingly? Yes! And what's the station for Ardingly Park? Tilling! Well, how pleasant for him.
He will catch a glimpse of our beautiful little town.
Ought we try to see him, do you think? I think not, Evie, dear.
One mustn't condone the recent fad of treating minor royalty as celebrities.
Much better to allow him to go about his business, I would have thought - wouldn't you, Mr Wyse? As in all things, Mrs Lucas, I quite concur.
And I would like to propose a toast.
To Mrs Lucas, to thank her for a most memorable musical evening, and to Miss Mapp, for enabling us all to make her acquaintance.
Mrs Lucas Miss Mapp.
Mrs Lucas, Miss Mapp.
Ah, did Cadman deliver the new invitations this morning? Yes, ma'am.
~ Sorry ~ Yes ma'am, he did.
Thank you, Grosvenor.
Give me that.
Go on, tell her! Everything all right, Foljambe? Begging your pardon, ma'am No.
No, it isn't.
I know she's only here for another fortnight, but TWO musical evenings in one week.
How she spoils us(!) Well, she says she will start a bridge class if we like.
Ha! And who will the pupils be? ~ Well, I know one who won't.
~ And one and one makes two.
We've been perfectly happy here for many years, going our own way, living in sweet harmony together, and I, for one, do not intend to put my neck under the yoke.
I wouldn't want to appear ungrateful.
And who is she to say you cannot go and see the Prince of Wales? We may never have the opportunity again! Precisely.
It is of no consequence to me personally, but I know many people who are very interested in the comings and goings of the royal family, and who is Mrs Lucas of Riseholme to look down on them for it? Still, I think she was probably right.
She even offered to give lessons in flower-arranging.
She said she thought the church displays were a little mundane.
Oh? That's settled then.
Piquet, Wasters, Thursday.
You did get my invitation, didn't you? Oh, yes! Yes! So pretty, isn't it? Hmm.
I shall be very sorry to leave Tilling.
Mind you, I'm sure there's plenty to catch up on in Riseholme.
Georgie, there's something I want to tell you.
Oh, I'm sure I shall like it - go on.
No, you won't like it at all.
Foljambe and Cadman are going to marry.
~ When? ~ Not for the present.
Not till we get back to Riseholme.
She informed me just this morning.
I I'm sorry.
It's the most dreadful thing that's ever happened to me.
I didn't think Foljambe was so selfish.
15 years, and now she goes and breaks up my home like this My dear, that's a rather excessive statement.
You can get another parlour-maid.
There are others.
If you come to that, Cadman can get another wife.
You'll miss him too, of course.
Oh, I don't think he means to leave me.
What makes you say that? Then perhaps Foljambe doesn't mean to leave me! That's rather different.
She'll have to look after his house by day, and at night .
.
at night, he'd like her to be there.
Oh! Horrible to think of! What can she see in him? I've a good mind to go and live in an hotel.
Well, I'm glad you're not overreacting.
Sweet Susan, Mr Wyse, how-de-do? De-do.
Had your invitation to the next "po di musica" on Thursday? We have.
An unusual inscription, I confess.
A simple "musica" would, I thought, have been more ordinary.
I'm sure Mrs Lucas has it perfectly, because she is quite the Italian scholar.
Readings from Dante, the next threat - erm, treat.
Yes, we must ask Mrs Lucas if we may bring your sister, Algernon.
~ Your sister? ~ Yes, joyful news.
Amelia is spending a few days with us before heading over to Ardingly Park for the Prince of Wales.
~ Prince of Wales.
~ I long to hear her and Mrs Lucas talk Italian together.
A lovely language to listen to, though Amelia laughs at my poor efforts when I attempt it.
Yes, that would be something, wouldn't it? Joyful news, indeed.
Au reservoir! Ah! ~ Lucia! ~ Lucia! ~ Good morning, ladies.
Lucia, thank you for your party last night.
~ Lovely.
~ Yes.
Oh, no, no - don't thank me - thank the immortal Beethoven.
You kindly invited us to another musical evening.
Yes? But the thing is, erm - not not that we couldn't change it, of course - but we did, Diva and I, Mrs Plaistow, arrange Oh, what a beautiful morning! Such a relief to have moved on from that dreary storm.
I trust you are all well? ~ Yes, very well - thank you, dear.
~ Jolly good.
Oh, while I have you, I wonder would it be at all possible to borrow your tagliacarte? Mine seems to have gone missing.
My my-my what, dear? Your tagliacarte.
Am I not saying it right? It's Italian for paper-knife.
Oh! Oh, no - taglia-CAR-te.
~ Ah.
~ Ah, yes, your pronunciation did fox me for a little.
I'll have a word with my domestica and have her it sent round.
~ How kind.
~ I was just explaining about Thursday Yes, the "po-di-mu" - what a thrill.
I have JUST received my invitation - Withers is so indolent these days - and I clapped my hands for joy.
Red-letter days! ~ But the piquet? ~ Piquet's off, dear.
Well, excellent.
Evie? Evie, dear, you were saying something? Oh, yes - delighted.
Can't wait.
Well - goodbye.
What was all that about? I can't eat another plate of tomatoes - I had heartburn half the night.
I just bumped into the Wyses outside Twistevant's and Susan let slip that Mr Wyse's sister is arriving in Tilling tomorrow night.
~ The Contessa di Fara-di-whatsit? ~ Faraglione, yes, the one who lives in Naples.
They want to bring her to Lucia's po-di-mu, and I wouldn't miss that for the world! ~ Why? ~ She'll be forced to talk Italian! Mr Wyse is always saying what a treat it would be to hear them talking together, and I'm convinced that Lucia doesn't know any.
Well, that would be rather amusing.
Being put down a peg or two certainly wouldn't hurt her.
Precisely.
She won't be able to wriggle out of it and she'll finally be exposed.
Oh, how I wish I could see her face when she hears the news.
What fabulous news.
I-I-I said I said, "What fabulous news.
" No - of course, I should be delighted.
Yes.
Un grande onore.
Thank you so much, Susan, goodbye.
Oh, dear.
Can't you put it off? ~ Sprain your thumb or something? ~ Not a bit of good.
She'll be here for a week.
Naturally, I have to avoid meeting her altogether.
~ That's a bit excessive, isn't it? ~ She speaks Italian.
Fluently.
Ah.
The only thing I can think of is influenza.
Rather a bore, not to be able to go outside.
I have my secret garden.
It's not overlooked.
~ What about me? ~ Oh, I'm sure you'll manage.
I can't have influenza too - it would be too suspicious.
I'm bound to meet the Contessa and she'll see in a minute I can't talk Italian.
~ Well? ~ It'll react on you.
You and I are supposed to talk Italian together, and when it's obvious I can't say more than three things in it, the fat's in the fire, however much influenza you have.
I never thought of that.
It's evident you haven't grasped the situation at all.
Oh, Georgie Oo not cwoss wiv poor Lucia? I was rather, but never mind that now.
What am I to do? Che faro, in fact.
For goodness' sake, don't talk Italian - it's that we're trying to avoid.
It's odd we've got to break the habit of doing something we can't actually do.
You're right, you can't have influenza as well.
If we both had it as the Contessa arrived, that Mapp might easily put two and two together.
Her mind's horrid enough for anything.
Oh how tiresome.
~ I think you'll have to go away.
~ But I don't want to go away! I have to sort out the situation with Foljambe I can see it all, Georgie.
You've not been looking well lately My dear, you're the picture of health, really - I've never seen you looking younger.
.
.
so you've gone off to Folkestone for a few days' sea air.
You needn't bathe.
You can take my car, for I shan't be able to use it, and you'll have Foljambe, of course, to valet you.
You must start this afternoon before the Contessa gets here.
I'll telephone you to say when you can come back.
And in the morning, I'll begin phase two.
~ Buongiorno! ~ Ah, Mrs Lucas.
Buongiorno - come va? Many thanks, Mrs Lucas, for your kind invitation, Amelia is most looking forward to your "po di musica".
It will be gran piacere to meet her, and molto amabile to speak la bella lingua again.
Alas, poor Georgie will not be joining us.
He is un po ammalato and will be spending a settimana by the mare.
Peste a viscere.
You must come over early, Diva, dear, and hear my fugue before l'arriva della contessa nobile.
Cara Elisabetta - come ti va? Bene What did she say? Dashed if I know.
She said she can't wait to talk Italian.
I hope you know what you're doing, Elizabeth.
Now dear, about our dresses - one of us is going to have to dye.
Beg your pardon? A new colour.
And I don't think it's fair I Oh, I've already done it.
Rose-madder's over according to The Ladies' Companion.
The new shade is Kingfisher Blue.
Grosvenor, close the shutters, and then come and see me in my room.
I have instructions for you to be held in the strictest confidence.
~ Which shutters? ~ All of them! Poor Mrs Lucas has submitted to a bout of influenza.
Oh, calamity! And on the morning of her party, too.
She says that the attack is sharp but not serious and that she's distraught at not being able to welcome your sister in person.
Well, Amelia will be disappointed, no doubt about it.
Algernon, I think it only fitting that we should step unto the breach, as it were, and host a dinner for Amelia here, at Starling.
My dear, what a beneficent suggestion.
I shall scribble the notes myself and have Figgis distribute them.
Ah, Grosvenor, I've just heard the news.
How is our dear patient faring? No anxiety, Miss, she just needs warmth and quiet.
So might we expect to see her up and about in a day or two? Oh, I couldn't say, Miss, but no doubt she'd thank you for your enquiry.
Now, if you don't mind, I've got some broth on the stove.
No admittance, I'm afraid.
However, Grosvenor informs me that we can expect to see our darling Lulu up and about again in a day or two.
Hopefully, she won't miss the Contessa altogether.
What rotten luck.
Exactly.
I shall have to shop for dinner, now.
I've got nothing in.
Aren't you dining at the Wyse's? No.
Ah.
That is a pity.
Perhaps they're introducing the Contessa to a few "intimes" only.
So like Mr Wyse, so discerning.
Well, I'm going, and so are the Bartletts.
I saw Evie at the vicarage just now, fretting about what to wear.
Oh.
Well, I should pop home, then, see if there's anything Yes.
Au res! ~ Janet, any note from Mr Wyse? ~ No, ma'am.
Mrs Wyse? Oh.
Figgis? Is that for Mrs Plaistow? Best leave that with me - she's popping into Wasters for a spot of piquet.
Better wait in, then, just in case.
Ah - good evening, Major.
Miss Elizabeth.
What a striking frock! Oh, thank you.
~ It's Kingfisher Blue.
~ Very modern.
May I? Right, I'll be off now, then, ma'am.
Oh, ah.
Good night Janet.
I've left a tray in the kitchen, ma'am, just in case Ah - well, thank you.
Amelia, dear? This is the Reverend Bartlett and his charming wife.
Ah, yes - born in Birmingham but talks Scotch, calls himself "Padre" and is a maestro at bridge.
Am I right? Er, yes.
That's correct.
Algernon regularly writes to his sister with all the news from Tilling.
Oh! His letters have me crying with laughter.
It's like meeting one of my favourite characters from a book.
He's just how I imagined.
And where's the little wife? Here, Your Ladyship.
Don't call me "Ladyship".
Only servants do that.
Contessa, if you will, or Amelia if we become friends.
Now, tell me three bits of gossip or one big secret.
Miss Mapp, Major Flint.
Welcome! Quite a feast we have in store, for my sister has brought quail's eggs from Capri.
~ Oh.
~ Oh, splendid! Is Mrs Plaistow not with you? Uh Oh! Hello? Dear lady, I apologise for resorting to the telephone apparatus but a most terrible thing has happened.
Can you hear? Yes, yes, I can hear.
By the most calamitous mistake, the note I wrote you this morning was never delivered.
Figgis conveyed it to Miss Mapp's house in error and she, dear lady, didn't know it was there.
I shall certainly dismiss him unless you plead for him.
~ Can you hear? ~ Yes.
Well, I come on my knees to you.
Can you possibly forgive the joint stupidity of Figgis and myself and honour us with your presence at dinner? ~ We will wait for you, of course.
~ Delighted - be there in ten.
Many thanks, dear lady.
Oh.
What do I do now, Figgis? And how long will you be staying in Tilling, Contessa? Well, that depends upon the gentlemen.
If the Major and the Padre and Twistevant the greengrocer all fall in love with me and fight duels over me, then I will stay forever.
You may take that for granted, by Jove! Oh, dear - I can see we have vexed our Miss Mapp.
She obviously wants you all to herself, Major.
Tell me, why haven't you asked her to marry you yet, hmm? Well, I, er We should have more marriages in Tilling.
Ah, here's our dear Mrs Plaistow, at last.
How's your canary, dear, hm? Quite recovered from its nasty bout of pip? Yes, thank you - I Jolly good.
Oh, look - you're wearing the same frock as Miss Mapp.
How .
.
hilarious! Tell me, did you copy her or did she copy you? I Oh, Algie, you must get them to sit together at dinner, it's too perfect! Oh, ho-ho! ~ That is the funniest thing ~ Yes, the the dresses.
Oh, that was a low blow, Elizabeth! How was I to know? You weren't even invited! Well, it appears that I was, actually! Next year? I want to give him time to find someone else.
Look, I can't bear to think of him all alone in the world.
He's not going to be all alone, is he? What about Mrs Lucas? ~ Oh come on, Jim ~ What? I don't think Mr George is the marrying type, ~ if you see what I mean.
~ Get away! You'll be telling me he wears a wig next! Oh, stop it! I'm sorry.
~ Night-night.
~ Night.
Good morning, Grosvenor! I've come for my daily bulletin.
Mrs Lucas is still confined to bed, but her fever has subsided.
Oh, that is good news.
Perhaps tomorrow she'll be out and about again.
I couldn't possibly say, Miss.
Well, give her my fondest love.
~ Miss Mapp! ~ Ha! ~ How-de-do? You look as if you're about to stage a break-in.
Ah, no, not at all, Countess, no.
I was In fact, I was just about to call on our ailing Mrs Lucas.
Ah, yes, your tenant.
Algie seems very keen to get us together ~ for a spot of lingua Italiana.
~ Yes, indeed that would be a treat, but apparently she has influenza.
Apparently? So we're led to believe.
Anyway, I want you to come shopping with me.
My brother told me that all the great ladies of Tilling go marketing in the morning, with big baskets.
Ha! It sounds absolutely comical.
Ha-ha.
Yes, I just feel it would be a good idea if I ~ From Mr Pillson, ma'am.
~ Thank you, Grosvenor.
That'll be all.
"Dearest Lucia, the most wonderful thing has happened.
"There's a family here at the hotel with whom I've made friends - "English father, Italian mother "and a little girl with a bow in her hair.
"Listen! The mother teaches the girl Italian "and sets her little themes to write on some subject or other, "corrects them and writes out a fair copy.
" ~ Buongiorno, Mr Pillson.
~ Ah, Buongiorno.
"Well, I was sitting in the lounge this morning "when the girl was having her lesson "and Mrs Brocklebank, that's her name, "asked me to suggest the subject for the theme, "and I had the most fantastic idea.
I said" Write a letter to an Italian Countess whom you've never seen before, saying how sorry you are to have cancelled your party, musical party, because you caught influenza.
You're so sorry not to have met her but hope she has had a pleasant stay with her brother.
"Aren't I clever? "The little girl wrote it out and the mother corrected it "and I begged her to let me have a copy because I adored Italian, though I couldn't speak it, "and it was so beautifully expressed.
" Grazie, senora.
"I haven't told this very well because I'm in a hurry to catch the post, "but I enclose Mrs B's Italian letter "and you just see whether it doesn't do the trick too marvellously.
"Your devoted, Georgie.
" ~ Elizabeth.
~ Diva.
I was just on my way to post a letter.
~ With no address and no stamp? ~ Hm.
Thank goodness for your sharp eyes, dear.
Well, I'm just on my way to the draper's.
~ Got to dye my dress again, no thanks to you.
~ I don't follow? ~ You cribbed my Kingfisher Blue! ~ Cribbed? Cribbed means taking what isn't yours, dear.
If you'd only acted in a straightforward manner Would you kindly explain to me how I have acted in a manner which is not straightforward? Or am I to understand that a monopoly on dyeing dresses has been bestowed on you by an Act of Parliament? Crimson Lake, page 32, July's Vogue.
I wouldn't advise cribbing that one, as it would clash terribly with your face! You've got a black heart, Diva Plaistow.
Nonsense.
Heart's as red as anybody's.
When you've finished looking down on us all from your ivory tower, you'll see it wasn't me who started this war, it was you! I shall see you at lunch! Mm! Mm.
This is to be delivered to the Wyses at a quarter past one precisely, Grosvenor, by hand.
Very good, ma'am.
~ Your costume is laid out on your bed, as you requested.
~ Splendid.
Lovely view! Isn't it? Got you! Got you! I knew it! I knew it, I knew it Eeeecco! Now at last we can begin.
A thousand apologies, dear Contessa.
I was painting up in the church tower and the time quite flew away with me.
Let's have a gander.
Lawks, Mapp! Welcome to the 20th century.
I love it! Oh, quaint one.
Well, it isn't anywhere near finished, but the pretty colours were quite inspiring.
Shall we? ~ Mmm ~ Mmm Thank you.
Ah, I will give anyone three guesses as to what I saw this morning.
Mr Wyse? Padre? You shall all guess.
Is that for me, Figgis? Scusi, everyone.
It's about someone we all know, who is still an invalid.
You mean Lucia, then? Getting warm, Irene, dear.
Yes, I happened to glance down into my pet little garden from the top of the tower and there she was in the middle of the lawn! How was she dressed and what was she doing? Three guesses each, shall it be? Oh, but never have I read such a letter! It's from Mrs Lucas and all in Italian, and such Italian! I have lived in Italy for ten years, but my Italian is a bungle compared to this.
May I? Oh, mio dio, what an escape I have had! You had a plan to bring me and your Mrs Lucas together to hear us talk, did you not? I confess I did.
Then she would have known how poorly I talk Italian in comparison with herself.
I will read it to you.
It is like music I am sure it is absolutely wonderful.
But didn't you yourself, Mr Wyse, think it odd that anyone who knows Italian should put "un po di musica" on her invitation card? Then he was wrong.
No doubt this phrase is just a little humorous quotation of something that we do not know.
Like "au reservoir".
Exactly.
It isn't a mistake, it's a joke.
Well, in any case, no-one has tried yet to guess what I saw from the top of the tower.
Major Benjy, you have a try! How was she dressed and what was she doing? Couldn't say, I'm sure.
Sure she was very nicely dressed, from what I know of her.
Well, I will give you a little hint.
It is not what one expects from someone with influenza! Er You, then, Mr Wyse, if Major Benjy gives up.
My ingenuity, I am sure, will not be equal to the occasion.
You will be obliged to tell me.
Have a try! Padre? Er, I cannae think.
A bathing costume! Yellow and black, like a wasp.
There she was in the middle of the lawn, skipping! Fancy! Skipping! With influenza! Er That is indeed good news.
We may be encouraged to hope that our friend is well on the road to convalescence.
~ Here, here.
~ Indeed.
Here, here.
And thank you for telling us, Miss Mapp.
~ Oh, shush! ~ Oh, come on! It's impossible to believe that Lucia's been ill all this time.
And then there's Mr Pillson's sudden disappearance - that was never properly explained.
If I were you, Elizabeth, I should hold my tongue about it all.
I mean, you got hold of a false scent.
~ She was skipping! ~ Good! I mean, you wanted us to believe that Lucia was avoiding "Faradiddlyeony".
All wrong from beginning to end.
One of your worst shots.
And how do we know that she actually wrote that letter? Oh, Elizabeth! I know we've had our differences recently, but I don't like to see you make a fool of yourself.
If you want my advice, as a friend, then give it up! She'll be gone soon and .
.
things can get back to normal.
Poor Elizabeth.
My heart aches for her! I'm sure that carping bitterness must make her wretched.
I daresay it's only physical.
Liver, perhaps, or a touch of acidity.
A little skipping might do wonders for her.
She should've stuck to the yoga.
Omm! I cannot, as you will readily understand, make the first approaches to her after the dreadful innuendoes she has made, but I should like her to know that I bear her no malice, no malice at all.
My dear, what a joy you are! You can do everything.
You play like an angel, you can skip, play bridge, and you've got such a lovely nature that you don't bear Mapp the slightest grudge for her foul plots.
You're adorable.
Won't you ask me to come and live with you in Riseholme? I would, you know.
I'm sorry, Irene.
I can't.
Arrivederci! Arrivederci! Ciao! ~ Ciao! ~ All right.
Ciao, ciao! It all worked without a hitch.
And it was Mrs Brocklebank's letter that really clapped the lid on Elizabeth.
I copied it out very carelessly, as though I scribbled it off without a thought.
Really, Georgie, I turned the whole thing into a stroke of genius.
But it was a stroke of genius already.
My dear, all the credit shall be yours, then.
I don't suppose there was a more thoroughly thwarted woman in all of Sussex than she.
And what's so awful is she was right all the time, about your Italian and your influenza and everything.
~ Perfectly maddening for her.
~ Ah, yes! Poor thing.
Mmm.
Now, do tell me all about your trip.
Yes, ah, all very pleasant.
Lots of lovely shops and sea air, but, um, I couldn't help thinking about the Foljambe situation.
~ Yes, I've been ~ Let me speak, Lucia, please.
I've given this a lot of thought, and, well, if they do decide to marry, which looks ~ .
.
then wouldn't it make things easier if ~ Yes? If you and I, perhaps ~ Then they could stay together ~ Georgie ~ We could manage it perfectly.
Separate rooms ~ Georgie, before you say anything you might regret, I too have been thinking about the Foljambe situation and I may have a solution that's a little less drastic.
So what we thought, Mrs Lucas and I, was that I could hire you a charwoman four times a week to keep your house so you can come to me in the daytime and then at night, you can .
.
be with your husband.
You'd do that? Just to keep me? Of course I would, Foljambe.
I've never wanted anything more.
Oh, sir! Now, now, listen, I shall never manage to call you Cadman.
You must keep your maiden name, like an actress.
Now, run along and tell him and let me know your decision.
Thank you, sir, ma'am.
Thank you! Oh, you're very kind, Georgie.
Very kind.
Oh, purely selfish, of course, but thank you for the solution.
Much better than you know.
Georgie .
.
how long have you and I been dear friends for? Much longer than either of us would care to think.
We're both getting on, aren't we? And both of us rather alone in this world.
But Lucia, I didn't mean I wasn't thinking straight! People like us with this strong bond of friendship, we can look forward to growing old without any qualms.
Tranquillity comes with age, and that horrid thing that Freud calls "sex" .
.
can be expunged.
Expunged? Yes.
That's all I wanted to say.
I do hope I haven't hurt your feelings.
But our friendship is perfect just as it is.
Oh, yes.
Yes, of course you're right - right a thousand times! We're fine just as we are.
Ah, what a relief! Thank you.
Well, I'm glad you're not too upset.
Hello! ~ Good morrow, fair dame! ~ Oh, Padre.
~ Such a splendid morning.
~ Aye.
How goes the festooning of the station? ~ Oh, 'tis a bonny sight, i'fegs.
~ Indeed.
It's so charming of the working folk to take such pride in our little town.
I'm sure the Prince will be most gratified.
He's expected on the three o'clock, I believe.
The wee wifey's awfully excited, though I know it's not the Tilling way to admit as much.
I wouldn't know, Padre.
I only came to pick up a parcel.
There you go, madam, one timetable.
You're very lucky - it's the last one we have left, quite a number of folks wanting them this week.
Most kind.
Dear Lucia, how we've all missed you these past few days.
Naughty microbes, for keeping you from us all this time.
~ Oh, thank you, Elizabeth, dear.
~ Is it safe to approach? ~ Oh, absolutely.
Mwa I was talking to Mr Pipstow about the completion of your tenancy and he suggested, nay - insisted, that I carry out a little inspection of the property, just to, ah ~ Well, I'm sure you understand.
~ Oh, of course.
Such an inconvenience but we are bound to follow the letter of the law.
Oh.
A little damage to the wall, there.
So back to your lovely Riseholme tomorrow.
A little chip in the saucer, that.
~ A mere trifle, but it's worth mentioning.
~ Yes All reparations shall be settled before I leave, Elizabeth, have no fear.
What time will that be, dear? Just so I can tell Withers.
The whole house will have to be thoroughly cleansed before I can move my humble possessions back where they belong.
~ We shall be gone by nine.
~ 9am.
~ It's quite a drive.
If you'd be so kind as to spread the word among our other dear friends - Georgie and I would be delighted to see them this afternoon, should they wish to pop in and bid us farewell.
I'm not quite up to my morning shop today, so I'd rather see them after lunch.
Shall we say three? Three? But that's .
.
perfect.
I shall let it be known.
Oh, quite a bit of fraying on that pelmet over there, do you see? I've promised Miss Mapp the run of the house, with the exception of my bedroom, of course.
Very good, madam.
Air the sheets and the linen in the kitchen yard, then you may begin to pack my cases.
Are you sure about this, Lucia? Georgie, I've never been more sure of anything.
I hope we get a chance to say goodbye to everyone.
Three o'clock, Elizabeth will invite them all over to Mallards.
There you are! Oh, my sweet piggies! Cruel of her to shut you up in a box like that.
Let's get you back where you belong.
Gone? I'm afraid so.
Left first thing.
I happened to glimpse them as I was taking your curtains down for washing, Diva, dear.
That's odd.
Without so much as a "by your leave"? I don't believe you.
Come in and check, quaint one.
The whole place is quite empty, I assure you.
Couldn't wait to get back to Riseholme, obviously.
I call it rude.
Well, at least you'll be able to move back into Wasters, and Irene into Taormina and I into my .
.
beloved Mallards.
Maybe I could go to see the Prince of Wales.
That is, if you think that I don't see why not, dear.
Mrs Lucas was but a tourist, after all.
We need no longer be bound by her strictures.
What rubbish you're talking! She's been hounded out! Hounded out by hags and harridans! You should be ashamed, all of you! Oh! ~ Agh, it's ~ Sorry.
~ Oh! ~ Padre! ~ Miss Mapp! ~ Evie.
Oh, my - how smart you look! Ah, off to the station, I take it? Aye, a bonny flower'll bring oot the bees.
How true.
Well, I may as well walk with you, because I have to fill in a form about some lost luggage.
It's so irksome that one can't sort this out over the telephone.
Indeed.
Yes.
Top hole.
Fine body of men.
Ah.
Er, afternoon.
Um, I was hoping to catch a train to the links, but I seem to have forgotten me clubs.
Then perhaps you could turn your misfortune to advantage and catch a glimpse of the heir apparent, should he decide to grace us with his presence.
Oh, that's now, is it? Well, no harm in taking a dekko, as we're here and all.
Haven't missed him, have I? So, it was a cloche hat with a floral ribbon.
Do you recall the colour, Miss? Mmm, what's that? The colour of the hat you lost? Oh, yes.
It's, er, straw with some pink flowers .
.
and a blue rosette.
Is it him? No, dear, it doesn't appear to be.
Well, that's all sorted, then.
No need to fill in the He drove?! What's that, Miss? Maybe he's getting the 6.
20.
The Prince of Wales! He didn't come by train - he drove! Hoo! Hoo! Your Highness! Your Highness! Elizabeth, dear! Do you need any assistance? I do hope you're not hurt.
Not at all! I, um I just Oh! Oh.
Oh.
I So stupid.
My, um ankle turned.
Thank you! Mr Pillson.
I bought this, er, for my nephew.
His birthday's tomorrow.
Fancy running into you like that! Lucia! We thought you'd already gone.
No, Irene, dear, we're leaving tomorrow.
Whatever gave? Perhaps I wasn't clear with my instructions to my servants.
Do forgive me.
Oh, forgiven, Lulu, darling.
And it's so fortunate we had the chance to say a final au reservoir, before you depart.
Oh, yes, "au reservoir", such a charming quip.
I'm so pleased you brought it to Tilling, having heard it in Riseholme.
And fortunately on this occasion, very apt.
~ How so, dear? ~ Georgie? Lucia's just been to see a property for sale out by the marshes.
~ Grebe? ~ That's the one.
Heaps of space, and so much potential.
Mr Woolgar and Mr Pipstow were kind enough to drive us there.
I've fallen in love with this dear Tilling, and fully expect to settle here for good.
Angel! Oh, joy, lovely Lucia And I was rather hoping to settle here myself.
I don't know if your daughter would ever consider selling Mallards cottage Oh, I'm sure we could come to a suitable arrangement.
~ Riseholme's loss will be Tilling's gain.
~ Hear, hear! Well, in the absence of the prince, ~ three cheers for Mr Pillson and Mrs Lucas! Hip-hip! ~ No ~ Hoorah! ~ Hip-hip! ~ Hoorah! ~ Hip-hip! ~ Hoorah! .
.
Hoorah.
.
.
If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb If I were a wise man I would do my part Yet what I can, I give him Give my heart Give my heart.
"For unto you is born this day in the City of David "a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
"And this shall be a sign unto you.
"Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes" Is Elizabeth not reading this year? Mrs Lucas paid for new pipes for the organ, and Kenneth thought Well, SHE suggested "Glory to God in the highest, "and on Earth, peace, goodwill toward men.
" Amen.
Amen.
~ Merry Christmas, Padre.
~ Major.
Miss Elizabeth! Miss Elizabeth.
Oh, Major Benjy.
Wonderful service.
So moving.
Indeed.
I believe Mrs Lucas has invited us all round to mince pies and Mozart tomorrow evening.
~ Yes, sounds delightful, doesn't it? ~ No doubt, no doubt.
And yet those parties, you know beautiful music and grub and all, but Well Grebe's a long way off .
.
on a wet winter night.
There she is! Elizabeth! You'll have to come to our rescue.
We can't be trudging back and forth to Grebe every night, ~ not in this weather.
~ We don't want to be given glasses! ~ We do not want to learn about Dante and Homer and Beethoven! ~ Hear! She wants to dictate to us.
We don't need a dictator - we've already got a each other.
What is required .
.
of us all is a little firmness.
Elizabeth? I wonder if you might be interested in joining the Tilling choir.
Dear Padre's been exhorting me for some time to become more involved, and I feel it's my duty to oblige.
And you, Major Benjy - well, the baritones are woefully underpowered.
Sweet of you, Lucia, but I have just been discussing with Evie here ~ some thoughts of my own.
~ Oh, really? Ding dong, verily the sky Is riv'n with angel singing Merry Christmas, Georgie.
Merry Christmas, Irene.