Mary & George

The following programme contains strong language,

scenes of a sexual nature and adult themes.

That's it.

Oh, shit!

Who dropped him?

Sort of both of us.

Sort of one of you pick him up. Yes, my lady.

Oh. Hello.

Aren't you a lovely boy? There.

No. Here.

Before I cut you free... what shall I call you?

Do I even bother?

Perhaps I should have left you on the floor to rot.

Do you know why?

You are my second son.

And you will inherit nothing of any human value.

What use are you to anybody?

Leave him attached for now.

And go, before I avenge the dropping business.

What of his name, my lady?

He is my George.

Good morning, George.

Maybe you apply it?

Is it sore, brother? Course it's fucking sore.

Could have ripped his head off.

Now he's on his deathbed like poor Daddy.

Kit! Yes, Kit. You and your sister, go.

But why can John stay, Mother? Because he's the eldest.

And I prefer him. By quite the margin.

I want to be scarred forever.

Perhaps go, Miss Ashcattle? And take that one with you.

I told you to put a cork up it, Jenny.

He's just so... pretty.

What did you do? I don't want to go.

All I want is Jenny.

I love her. She's a servant.

Not in my heart. That's not how it works.

That's not how a single thing - fucking works. - Well, it should be.

Are you five?! No.

You will go to France, George. If you make me go,

I will kill myself, but this time I will make sure-

Fall in a way that breaks your neck?

So that's why you left me to hang?

I left you because it was staged, you were play acting.

It was real, I promise you.

You just want to send me off to France

to learn the ways of refinement.

And then return to marry some awful rich wife

and milk her fat fucking dowry. It's about more than that.

No, it's not. I never beat you.

- Perhaps I'll begin. - Father has enough times. Why don't you?

Mother, don't hurt him.

I won't.

Think of John. Eldest and heir,

who will marry him?

How can we build and pass on anything unless we use your gifts.

What gifts? If I were a man

and I looked like you, I'd rule the fucking planet.

I don't want to rule the fucking planet.

Then it will rule you. Second sons offer nothing. Inherit nothing.

Raise yourself, or you will be nothing.

If you make me go...

I will slit my wrists. I will make sure this time-

Oh, darling, you don't have the will.

Are you scared? Is that it?

To leave me?

Father was always against me going.

And while he still draws breath, his word means something.

Any final words... from anyone?

Better pack quick, prick.

Apart from those?

Uh...

At least he won't walk out on you.

Get rid of him.

He reeks.

'What were you before

'Sir George Villiers, Knight of the Shire,

'dragged you from obscurity?

'A serving girl worth nothing.'

And like a fool, I paid off the Beaumonts so they would lie

and pretend you were one of theirs, so we might marry.

I gave you the Villiers name,

held by great men for 500 years.

Two hundred, at most.

And what did you give me...

to carry on the Villiers name?

A hollow boy. All I built dies with your John.

You built nothing but regret, and syphilis scars.

You think you're funny, bitch? None of this is. None.

What about that second boy, why give him my name?

As a warning. Oh. Of what?

Of what he might become if I fail him.

More wit.

And you'd use my money to send that little tart to France?

I will. I won't throw good money after bad.

My George, will go to France

and learn a better way than yours.

All of you can fucking burn.

Anymore to share?

Fuck...

Nor I...

I see you looking at all the stable lads.

Do you like boys too, or what?

Shut up, Jenny.

I just want you forever.

I'm sorry about your husband's death,

but I am afraid I have more bad news.

I know you have little time for bookkeepers, even-

Assume I have less. I want my second boy to travel overseas.

There's money for that, surely?

So, I only have the house?

Your husband signed over your house to one of his cousins.

I think to insulate it from his debt.

Fuck. Will the cousin sell?

No. You can stay, for a fixed rent.

I have to pay to live in my own house?

It's not yours, that's the crux- And-And what do I pay with, vapour?

Money.

There is also this...

Payments made, on your behalf, a long time ago.

To the Beaumont family.

The reason for payment is specified there.

If this became known, your position in society

would become untenable.

Never tell anyone of this. Understand?

But tell me...

what do I do for capital?

There's only one option.

Marry again?

Is there any worse Hell than a woman's?

I could suggest suitable bachelors?

Though you would have to wait to not seem too unseemly.

How many weeks? Four at least.

Six if you care for...

Sir Thomas Compton? Afraid so. You?

Your next wife.

Sorry, love? Don't be.

What is this? Really?

A proposal. Really.

To what, marry you?

I'm way past all that shit and noise.

Are you? You've had enough wives?

For two lifetimes. Three.

Why not live one more time?

Well, the cost, for a start. All living costs until we're free.

Mm. Well, until that day, why encourage more expense

and more pain? Companionship, no? Closeness?

Well, that's something I've missed.

As have I. And no, I know you are self-made.

I want none of your fortune. No rights of acquisition,

or inheritance. Nothing, except... Except...?

Except before we are wed: a small stipend to cover my son's education.

Ah-ha! First, you talk like a courtesan

and now, just like a bookkeeper? Front and back of the same shop.

Fuck me down.

You are forward. I have been held back far too long.

Seems to me like nothing holds you back, like you're used

to getting what you want? Oh, quite the opposite.

Why I'm presenting such favourable terms.

Come. Let us live.

You really value your son's education enough to endure me?

You seem entirely endurable, Sir Thomas.

And, you should know... I am Mary.

You're just spitting in it.

Just take your time. Like I showed you.

I am to marry again.

Who? Father's barely in the ground.

It won't affect you, you'll be in France.

You leave in a few days. It's all arranged.

I don't want to go.

Your want is irrelevant. Can the music play?

I miss the music. All I want... is Jenny.

Do you know of Jenny's family?

Her father? Her brothers? Brutes, all.

And if you stay in England, I'll have no choice but to send her home.

She's terrified of them. I know, isn't it awful?

You wouldn't.

You cannot sacrifice her to them. Please.

I hate you.

Only because you know I'm right.

Whoa!

Oh, he's fainted?

Or he's choking?

I've never left England before. I've never been out to sea.

My French...

is so 'sans', I'll-I'll never- You have nothing to fear in France.

What if I go later? When I'm older?

You could.

But if you miss this chance, you will fail us all.

And live, like your father, smeared in the unwashable excrement

of eternal shame.

Bon voyage.

Monsieur. I am Jean. How was your journey?

Right.

That good?

Come.

How were you hurt, friend?

Oh, uh... I took a tumble. So, you didn't try to hang yourself?

No.

Where did you hear that? Your mother.