She's here?
She's arrived.
Ma'am.
What's the Lister chaise
doing out?
It'll rot where it is.
And what's the matter
with Percy?
Just a chill on his stomach,
ma'am.
Go and help your brother,
and that's Eugénie with him.
She's my new maid.
Aunt.
Oh! [Laughs]
How are you?
Oh, such a tragedy!
The whole household's in shock.
Oh, George, yes.
That was unfortunate.
You need to be more careful
with the servants.
Hello, Marian.
Cordingley.
Hemingway.
BOTH: Ma'am.
Where is he?
Shall I get the dinner
served now, then, ma'am?
Hello, Father.
Ah, decided to drop in
for five minutes, did you?
Yes.
I'm delighted to see you
as well.
So what went wrong
in Hastings, eh?
Nothing
went wrong in Hastings.
I'm hungry.
Are you hungry?
Is dinner ready?
[cow lows in distance]
Eugénie,
I'm Joseph Booth, footman.
I'll take them.
She all right?
She don't speak English.
Oh, well,
that'll be interesting.
She's gonna have to get
another groom.
I'm no'an a pack horse.
Have you told her?
Oh, aye, that's
a conversation we've had.
"Oi, Your Majesty"
Shh!
"You need a new groom,
because I am not lugging this
bugger anywhere ever again.
"
On the bright side, you were
only lugging it from Halifax,
not Paris or Milan or Madrid
or the Pyrenees.
[groans]
[music playing]
How did it happen?
[sighs]
What?
George Playforth
being shot out of a tree.
Oh, he was
He was up a tree.
Why was a groom up a tree?
I did read him your letter.
[loudly] I did read you
Anne's letter, Jeremy.
He was frightening the
carrion crows out of the trees
so the Norcliffes'
gamekeeper could shoot them.
Then he was shot himself.
Stupid bugger.
Poor George.
He knew very little about it.
He lingered
for a day or two, but
I don't think
there was anyone in.
I attended the postmortem.
The cranium was sawn off.
Oh.
It was fascinating.
So I assume death was caused
by pressure on the brain
from the extravasated blood?
We had a bit of a drama
here on Monday.
Did Marian tell you?
Yes, I explained about
why the chaise was out.
Yes, Miss Walker and her aunt
had to borrow it to get home.
Oh, and the little boy
had to have his leg amputated.
Did she tell you?
Yes, I told Anne
she'd have enjoyed that.
The son of the new tenants
at Roydelands.
Does she know about Briggs?
What about Briggs?
Oh, yes, uh, Briggs is ill.
How ill? When?
Dropsy.
He won't be able to collect
the six-monthly rents,
and they're due next week.
Well, who will
collect them, then?
[cow lows in distance]
Who will collect the rents?
[jaunty music]
[music playing]
[music playing]
[grunts]
[dog barks in distance]
Excellent.
[knocking on door]
Miss Briggs, is your father in?
Who is it, Louisa?
Oh, Miss Lister.
Mrs.
Briggs, how do you do?
Is your husband in?
He struggles
with visitors, ma'am.
That's why I've not
been answering the door.
Briggs.
Briggs.
[grumbles softly, sighs]
Can you own me, Briggs?
It's Miss Lister.
Anne Lister.
Miss Lister?
I'm sorry to see you
like this.
I need to talk to you
about Shibden.
Briggs?
I shall collect the rents
myself on Tuesday.
You, ma'am?
Y-you yourself?
Who else
is going to do it, hmm?
I need an up-to-date record.
I assume it's all written down.
Any arrears?
My father didn't
Did make a record
on a bit of paper,
but he lost it.
Mrs.
Briggs,
can you put your hands
on the Shibden estate rent book
for Miss Lister?
[groans]
Can I take this?
It's yours, ma'am.
On top of that
Red Beck's flooded again
in the lower fields.
Third year it's happened.
Then there's your coal.
What about my coal?
Shibden's rich in coal,
a-always has been,
but with all these
new steam engines
popping up everywhere,
devouring the stuff,
your coal is worth more
to you now than
Than ever before,
more than stone quarries.
The Rawson Brothers'd
pay a premium for it,
and any number of others.
Makes no sense
just letting it sit there.
[groans]
[gentle music]
[music playing]
[retches]
[coughing]
[music playing]
Eugénie?
[music playing]
Eugénie?
Oh.
Have you been drinking?
How much
Why have you taken
so much, Eugénie?
Eh?
Oh.
[speaking French]
Oh, Eugénie.
Are you
[speaks French]
George Playforth?
She says they were engaged.
Did he know about
Yes.
She says so.
She said he was gonna marry her
as soon as they got back
to Halifax.
Happen the Gin'll work.
She looks sick enough.
Why don't you send her to bed?
It might've come away
by tomorrow morning.
There'll be blood.
We've a bucket.
I don't know why
I'm risking my neck.
No, and why've
you involved me?
Because I didn't know
what else to do!
I've never had to deal
with anything like this before.
I suppose these things
can happen.
Well, they wouldn't
if people kept their
[sighs]
Themselves to themselves.
Yeah, but
she's French, so
What did she say?
Pourquoi?
She thinks she should tell
Miss Lister.
Why?
Pourquoi?
What's she saying?
Nothing.
[scoffs]
What did she say?
Find her the bucket.
[sighs]
Go lie down.
Va te coucher.
[sighs]
[music playing]
[sighs]
[jaunty music]
[music playing]
How long's he been like this?
A week.
[sighing]
Is he glandered?
Oh, Lord, I hope not.
[pocket watch ticking]
Put a mustard poultice
on him.
And keep him indoors.
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