The Gilded Age

Hyah, Hyah!

Hup, hup!

Hup, hup.

Come on. Hyah.

Come on, come on.

- Take those packages to... - Whoa.

Careful with those. They're fragile.

Go slow!

- Give that to Mr. Prue. - This way, this way.

- Hoisting it up! - Careful, careful!

- Okay! - Let's go! Let's go!

We're gonna go back for another load!

Morning, Mr. Griffin.

They're moving in at last, then.

- Looks like it. - Ah, bad news, I'm afraid.

They're old. They get bad news every week.

- You're all heart. - I got it!

I got it!

- Looks like another one. - Oh, dear.

I wonder who that is now.

I'll take those. Thank you, John.

Why not let Miss Armstrong carry them up?

Or that one at least.

Thank you, Mrs. Bauer,

but I think I know what I'm doing.

I'm afraid none of them

are worth the paper they're printed on.

But surely with the railroad spreading all over the country.

Every day, the papers talk of some new millionaire

who's made his fortune out of railways.

And every day, the bankruptcy courts

see rail companies go under,

taking their owners and investors down with them.

Miss Brook, the plain fact is,

I've looked into the estate of the late Mr. Brook.

The late General Brook.

The late General Brook, and I cannot find any assets

beyond the contents of his bank account.

And the house.

The house is rented, Miss Brook.

I'm sure that's wrong.

No, I'm afraid not.

But my father always said...

I see.

So how much is left?

I've paid the funeral charges and other outstanding accounts,

and I will waive my own fee.

- There's no need. - There is every need.

You will have in your possession

somewhere in the region of $30.

You see, Mr. Raikes, none of this

is what my father told me.

So I gathered.

- What are you going to do? - I'm not sure.

You mentioned your father's sisters in New York.

My aunts were not on good terms

with my father, Mr. Raikes.

They disliked him, and he disliked them,

so they have played no part in my life.

I would only ask you to consider your options,

realistically.

You mean beggars can't be choosers?

Well, the rent is paid to the end of the month.

Perhaps you will signal your intentions

before that point is reached?

Perhaps I will. Thank you.

I'm sorry I couldn't be more help.

Don't worry, Mr. Raikes, I'm not beaten yet.

At the risk of impertinence, I would say

you're a long way from being beaten, Miss Brook.

What does she say?

She thanks you for the letter

that you did not show me

and for the tickets that you purchased

without my knowledge.

She means to join us here

just as soon as she has closed the house

and sold her furniture.

- Oh, what a relief. - A relief?

And who is to support her?

Exactly. Me.

With the Van Rhijn money,

which was not achieved at no cost to myself.

You were allowed

the pure and tranquil life of a spinster.

I was not.

- I'm very grateful. - So you should be.

- Well, I'm glad she's coming. -

And if my letter played a part in her decision,

then I'm glad I sent it.

I doubt it was your letter.

More likely, she has discovered her father left her

without a penny to her name.

Henry couldn't provide for a dog in a ditch.

He never kept a dollar in his pocket

if there were women or drink within 500 miles.

Agnes, our brother has died.

Our brother with whom

we have had no connection these many years.

We should have gone for the funeral anyway.

It wasn't worth an uncomfortable day of travel

to make sure Henry was dead.

At least there's a railway station

in Doylestown now, unlike in our day,

but she'll need to get up early

to catch the first train to Lansdale,

and then she'll have to change at Bethlehem

and take the Lehigh Valley Railroad

to Exchange Place in Jersey City,

and then catch the ferry across the Hudson

to Desbrosses Street.

From there, she could take an elevated train...

Are you planning to open a travel business?

No.

Then what on Earth makes you think I would be interested?

I only meant it's a long journey, Agnes.

12 hours or more.

And what are we to do with her

now that she's on her way to disturb our peace?

Perhaps she'd like to work.

If her father has left her penniless,

maybe she could be a governess.

- A niece of mine a governess? - She's my niece too.

I've not noticed you volunteering

to make a contribution to the household

as a governess.

We are her only living relatives.

We owe her the duty of care.

We do not owe her anything.

Her father robbed us of all that we possessed.

Look at this.

Invitations, charity appeals,

questions from bankers and brokers.

When am I expected to answer them all?

It's not fair.

Is it that woman again?

You must be pleased they're moving in

and we have peace at last.

I don't know which is worse, the noise of the builders,

or the chance of running into her in the street.

- Good afternoon, Mrs. Russell. - Mr. White.

You've never seen it without scaffolding.

It's everything you promised.

Steady on!

Mrs. Russell, Mr. White.

Oh.

I'm pleased with the size.

Big enough to be splendid without being oppressively so.

I agree.

One needs to be able to breathe.

Why is he bringing that downstairs?

I want to try and put the other Boucher

in the drawing room.

Is that from the gallery?

Is that from the Palazzo Borghese?

No, the Hôtel de Soubise in the Marais.

You're thinking of the clock in the library.

- Another inch. - As you wish, Mrs. Russell.

The carpets work well in here, I think.

I wasn't convinced they'd go together,

but they do.

I wish you wouldn't do that in here.

- What is the smoking room for? - To entertain my friends.

And I will not be told what I can and can't do

in my own library.

The windows can be opened when you go to change.

- I'll ask Mrs. Bruce. - Hm?

The new housekeeper.

Why did you get rid of Mrs. Findley?

She wasn't up to it, not for what I have in mind.

Hmm.

Did you know they shot Jesse James?

He had his troubles. I have mine.

What...

Mm.

So how was your afternoon?

I've left cards with Mrs. Stevens,

Mrs. Rutherfurd, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Vanderbilt,

Mrs. Schermerhorn, and Mrs. Astor, of course.

- Of course. - So now they know we're here.

We have been in New York City for three years, Bertha,

watching this house rise from the sidewalk.

But we've been stuck down on 30th Street

with yesterday's men.

You chose the house.

I didn't know how things worked then.

Now I do.