Savage House

Help!

The Bennetts are nearly here, sir.

I've been poisoned!

You've been on a three-day drunk, sir.

I did warn you.

You did nothing of the sort.

My innards are festering with rot.

Call the doctor!

I have a bowl of peasant soup, raw eel,

a half loaf of pumpernickel,

and a glass of owl yolk with vinegar,

and a splash of whisky.

Sir George Chauncey Savage

- was an insolent Welsh upstart. - Oh, yes.

A low-bred ruffian and opportunist...

Oh, yeah.

...who, through unsavoury efforts,

shameless swindles, and social climbing

managed to coax and court a well-born wife,

Lady Savage of the Yorkshire Savages,

only to squander what little was left of her family estate

on garish clothing,

boozing, whores, and of course, his poison of choice, gambling.

Those.

He agreed to take the "Savage" name

in order to marry up, and purchased his title of "Sir"

with the ill-advised sale of several paintings

and parcels of land.

But despite appearances,

he was nothing more than the son of a penniless peddler.

An outsider among the ruling class,

Chauncey never felt as if he was good enough for her,

or them, and most would agree.

I simply loathe the Bennetts. Snobbish, paralytic bores.

Do you see the way he looks at me,

with that probing sneer? And his boorish wife.

She has all the charm of a septic cyst.

I heard a particularly vile story

from a footman the other day,

involving Mr Bennett and a syphilitic whore.

Oh, pray tell.

Born in the slums of St Giles,

Chauncey's valet was a lowbred ruffian

and opportunist in his own right.

Stay where you are!

If you'll empty your pockets

and kindly deliver your valuables.

There's a newly implemented tax on nobles in the area.

Thank you kindly.

The... Queen of Hearts!

To maintain his life of leisure

and quell his mounting debts...

...Chauncey was quick to include his loyal footman

on trips to brothels,

gambling halls...

...and wherever he thought it beneficial.

- Hurry. - Stop him! Thief!

Come back here!

Don't shoot! She's lying!

Thieving brigands!

- A rake on the make. - Come back here!

Come on, sir.

Slow down, I'm wearing heels!

Chauncey had various tricks and deceptions

on how best to achieve his desired outcome.

He would masterfully palm and replace his dice

with an altered pair...

that he had meticulously melted...

Double, bubble, toil and trouble.

Passions burn, the bets are double.

...so that they almost always landed on sixes.

I do not know how, Savage,

but you have cheated me, ungentlemanly and odiously,

and on such grounds, I demand satisfaction!

How dare you.

Reginald was often tasked...

- Erm. Ready! - ...with settling Chauncey's various financial squabbles

and disagreements by duel of sword or pistol.

Fire!

As well as assist in evading

the increasingly frequent visits of his vexed collectors.

Where is he?

I'm afraid Sir Chauncey is away on business in Hamburg.

Last month it was Paris,

the month before that, the West Indies.

Don't meddle with me, boy!

I've heard rumour my parcel has been sold twice,

possibly thrice.

Chauncey had been slowly siphoning off

parcels of their peerage.

A rather reckless and intricate scheme

of over-leveraging and double-dealing.

If the matter isn't sorted appropriately and with haste,

I shall be forced to call upon the authorities.

I'll pass along the message.

How is Her Ladyship this morning?

Seems she'll only speak to me at social gatherings

or at meals.

Well, I'm sure it's just a rough patch, sir.

She hasn't touched me in months.

You're an acquired taste, sir.

Er. What shall I do about our Mr Black?

He did seem a little... perturbed earlier.

Ah, yes, parcel 11.

A glorious swath of birch and pine.

Not to worry. I've got it under control.

I'm not about to let some greedy banker seize our home

and sully our name. Is that blood?

- Er. Pheasant, sir. - Oh, delicious. My favourite.

I know, sir.

I don't know what I'd do without you.

Your loyalty and valour, your skill of shot.

Well, you are many things, sir,

but a good shot is not one of them.

Oh, it's not my fault.

Spectacles make me look bookish and fat.

- Hmm. - I don't tell you enough, but...

I care for you like a son, or...

...an affectionate dog.

Lady Savage had come

from a disgraced family of nobility.

Though she still carried a distinguished title

and the bluest of blood,

the Savages of Yorkshire had fallen on hard times...

...and were merely a name at this point.

This financial standing was not helped

by her marriage to Chauncey,

but the heart is a mercurial muscle.

She fell under his spell quite quickly,

and against all opposition and criticism...

...married him in a fortnight.

She had never met anyone quite like Chauncey.

But of course, good times have a price.

Oh, Chauncey.

Their reckless spending

and misadventures

had left them on the precipice of peril.

As gossips would say, "They deserved each other."

I've never met a more lifeless pair than the Bennetts.

Tiresome teacups, they are.

Porcelain, painted, and empty from ear to ear.

Then why must you always invite them over?

Well, beggars can't be choosers.

If one doesn't have dinner guests,

albeit dim and dull,

then one could wonder if they ever ate at all.

But we are here, ma'am.

Oh, I know it's true, but you're a servant,

you're always here.

And a paid guest, however dear, doesn't count.

Indeed.

The only persons who are eager to visit us these days

are my husband's lenders and dubious debt collectors.

That man has never met a ruffled coat

or a well-bosomed cunny he hasn't lusted.

Maybe the gossips are right and we deserve each other.

You speak too harshly of yourself, ma'am.

You're the only one who understands me, Dorothy.

Are you sure that this isn't too much?

Not at all, ma'am. I think it shows great restraint.

- Oh, shit! - Not again.

Oh, get that ribbon from over there.

- There you go. - That'll do.

"For the first time in 500 years,

a total solar eclipse is approaching London

in less than a fortnight."

"Such an eclipse occurs

when a new moon drifts between the sun and Earth

like a lid, smothering the sun black

and casting its shadow over the Earth's surface."

"Halley's eclipse is the first of its kind,

predicted on Newtonian theory, and thus,

a detailed map of its path is illustrated below."

How is my little troublemaker and her mischief of mice?

Papa, promise you'll come play after the Bennetts.

Only if Wolly promises not to bite this time.

Oh, can't promise that.

- No footmen, of course. - No, of course not.

I just hope the pheasant...

...isn't as vomit as it was last time.

Oh, my goodness. I was on the pot for days.

I know. Squitting.

Mr and Mrs Bennett, how lovely to see you.

Right this way.

Were you invited to the ball

at Cumberland Castle?

-It sounds splendid. -We were not.

Or that interminable dinner for the new Earl of Gloucester?

Sadly not, no.

-Oh... -I'm sure it was a servant's error.

Error, yes.

Mm.

Mm!

Lord Marlow told me the most extraordinary tale this morning.

Something called an "eclipse."

Apparently, there's rumour from reliable sources,

evil spirits will pour out

like an open spigot from the sky.

The Devil's doing for this wretched king.

- Reliable sources, you say? - Oh, it's true.