Sense and Sensibility

Do you truly love me?

Trust me.

Mrs Edwards...

Mrs Edwards thinks you're a child still.

But we know better than that,

don't we?

But when will you come back?

Soon. Very soon.

But when?

You should prepare yourself.

I have done all I can.

GASPING

DOOR LATCH CLICKS

John.

I'm so glad you've come. Is it John?

Here I am, Father.

The law prevents me from dividing up my estate.

You are to have everything.

Without your help,

your stepmother...and the girls

will have almost nothing.

You must do something.

You must promise me.

You must give me your solemn promise.

Yes, of course.

I promise.

THUNDER RUMBLES

Norland Park, ours at last.

Come to bed.

I promised Father I...

would do something for them.

You are the most generous of men.

I hope you don't intend to spoil them.

Not to spoil them.

I have written to Mary, saying they may expect us on Monday.

Blow out the candle, dear.

Monday?

But that's today.

I had not thought it would be so soon.

Have they no heart at all?

It is their house now, Marianne.

But why, Elinor? It isn't fair, is it?

It is the way things are. Meg.

Mr John Dashwood is Father's only son, and sons are always heirs.

There's nothing anyone can do.

How can you be so calm about it? Don't cry, dear.

But what will we do? Will we have to live with gypsies?

I'd rather live with gypsies than with Aunt Fanny. She's insufferable.

If she comes to live here, I might even poison her.

I thought of giving the girls £1,000 apiece.

Would that be fair, do you think?

£1,000 apiece? Are you mad?

Do you rob your only child of his rightful inheritance?

Henry, your father proposes to steal £3,000 from you to give to his half-sisters.

You think it too generous?

£500 apiece?

That would be beyond anything generous, when you think

that they will have £3,000 on their mother's death.

A very comfortable fortune for any young woman, I should have thought.

But your papa is set on robbing you, Henry.

Perhaps the matter does require further thought.

I'm determined to help them, Fanny.

Mama, they won't expect you to give up your own bedroom.

It is their house now. They will expect the best it has to offer.

Mama, our brother has a kind heart.

He wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable.

He promised Papa he would look after us all.

Yes, yes, he did.

And he will.

I'm sure of it.

To say the truth, I'm convinced your father had no idea of your giving them any money at all.

What would they spend it on?

They will have no carriage, no horses, hardly any servants.

Yes. I suppose...

And consider, you owe no particular gratitude to your father, nor attention to his wishes.

For we very well know if he could, he would have left almost everything in the world to them.

Upon my word, I do believe you're right.

My father must have meant nothing more than what you said.

Just a general concern for their welfare,

occasional presents of fish and game and so forth.

Exactly.

There, there, darling. We shan't let the poor starve you. No, we shan't.

I shan't speak to them when they come in.

Yes, you will.

We shall all be on our best behaviour.

Because we are the visitors now.

Really, Mary.

There's no need for that.

Well, here we are at last!

After you, my dear, of course.

So, Elinor, still at your music?

Marianne still sketching away?

You see, I remember everything.

Other way around, Aunt.

Marianne is the musician. Oh, yes.

And what about you, Margaret?

I'm going to be a writer. A writer?

Well, pens and paper cost very little.

You have made a sensible choice.

This is an elegant dinner service.

You'll have no use for it when you move to a smaller place.

My dear.

And of course it belongs here.

Belongs to the house.

And the house belongs to you. Though you neither care for it, nor need it, nor deserve it. Marianne!

You know you really can't say things like that at the dinner table,

to their faces.

It's true. She cares nothing for Norland, only for the pounds, shillings, and pence it's worth.

And it's clear our brother has no intention of honouring his promise to Papa.

I know, but...

My dears,

Mr Gridley has found us two very suitable houses.

Beecham Court, and Thrush Place.

I favour Beecham Court. Look, Marianne, it has a gazebo.

And the grounds are very manageable, I think.

Mama, they are far beyond our income.

We have only £400 a year.

Well, they're both smaller than Norland, Elinor.

Mama, we need to think very differently now.

We could hardly afford the gate house at Beecham Court.

I suppose you would have us live in a rabbit hutch.

Not quite, Mama, a cottage would answer very well.

Sometimes, Elinor, I think you don't understand how I feel.

I do, Mama,

truly I do.

But we have to be practical.

Oh, here you are all are.

I wondered where you were all hiding.

I've heard from my brother Edward, he's coming to stay, and we expect his visit to be a long one.

So we are very favoured.

I believe you have never met him. No. As the eldest son, he will, of course, inherit

a considerable fortune and we expect great things of him.

Parliament, perhaps.

He will make his mark upon the world, no doubt of that.

So much to do before he arrives.

He has a very discerning eye

and I should not want him to find fault with anything.

Well, things to do.

Things to do.

I bet he's just like her.

MUFFLED VOICES

Martha!

Martha, what are you doing?

Didn't you do them a week ago?

Mrs John Dashwood's orders, miss.

They're all to be done again with the gentlemen coming.

Those carpets are clean.

Go and see to your work.

Thank you, Miss Elinor.

Good morning. Oh, I was just... Beating carpets.

Yes. Edward Ferrars. How do you do?

My horse has thrown a shoe, so I came by way of the stables.

Elinor Dashwood.

Would you like some help?

With the carpet beating?

No.

I had better take you to in to see your sister.

Edward! The state of you!

Where are your things? They're sending them on. I felt like a ride so I borrowed a horse.

How long are you going to stay?

I am entirely dependent on Mrs Dashwood, of course.

I would not want to overstay my welcome.

I shall have you shown to your room immediately.

What possessed you to arrive here looking like a country bumpkin? My dear Fanny, we are in the country.

CLOCK CHIMES, DOOR OPENS

I think the first thing to do is rip out this dingy old panelling,

so dark and dusty, I'm sure you'll agree.

And all these old books, how could a gentlemen bear to sit in a gloomy old den like this?

Oh, Elinor.

Do not let us disturb you.

Here, will you take this?

Fanny...

Yes, Edward?

Let me explain.

This is a library,

a place of refuge.

Libraries should be full of dusty old books, and nooks, and corners, and places to hide away in.

Do you know, Fanny, I do believe this library is quite perfect just as it is.

Edward, you know you only say these things to annoy me.

I'm afraid it must pain you to see my sister refurbishing Norland after her own taste.

It is her house now. She must do as she sees fit, I suppose.

She's doing her level best to refurbish me, too.

I'm a grave disappointment to my family, Miss Dashwood.

Fanny would like me to be a great man of some sort.

Important, talked about, riding around in a barouche.

And you don't see see yourself in a barouche?

A pony and trap would do we me very well.

I want to go into the church, you see, a quiet country parish.

But that's not smart enough for my family.

I think we all have to find our own ways to be happy.

So do I.

And I think I prefer your notion of happiness. Do you? Good.

Quiet country parish it is, then.

This must be a very hard time for you,

your father's death.

My own father died when I was 17.

I was like a boat that had lost its anchor.

We must all have someone to listen to us.

To understand what we feel.

Elinor! It's not fair!