The Blackheath Poisonings

Cauliflowers! Cauliflowers! Lovely taties!

Here's your lovely taties!

Lovely ripe apples! Lovely apples! Lovely apples!

They're all yours for three farthings, the lot!

Here y'are, love, take them.

Lovely cauliflowers there for you. Lovely caulis.

Thank you. HE SNIFFS

Cheapest in London! Cheapest in London!

Lovely apples! They're all yours for three farthings, the lot.

Here y'are, love.

KNOCKING AT DOOR

Mr Wilson?

THEY PANT, KNOCKING ON THE DOOR

Isabel. Roger.

Roger. KNOCKING CONTINUES

Mr Wilson. DOGS BARKING

THEY GRUNT Yes.

Mr Wilson?

HE GROANS WITH PLEASURE

Bye, George, Bertie. Er, Roger?

I'll deal with it tomorrow. No, no, erm, Roger...

Good night, gentlemen. But, Roger, we must...

In the morning, Bertie.

Night, young Jim. Sir.

Sir.

Evening, Isabel.

Paul. Father.

And where are you two going? We're going to the village concert.

Such a pleasure to go with someone who'll appreciate it.

George would just snore.

DOOR OPENS

Beatrice!

Well, it seems I have my husband to myself.

Don't s'pose anyone's going to join me at the meeting this evening.

What's it for this time?

The castigation and reformation of fallen women. Bertie's idea.

Sounds unmissable (!)

I do wish it wasn't always left to me to support Bertie and his causes.

See you both at supper, then.

Cold, I'm afraid.

You're not interested in fallen women, then, Roger?

The carriage is just coming round, madam.

Good evening, Miss Collard. Oh, my God!

Mr Dangerfield... Robert...

Calm yourself, Charlotte. I'm not a demon. Or even a ghost.

But I thought... Everyone thought... I mean, you disappeared so suddenly.

Then no word for months, for years!

Did you think I was dead? I was - without you.

Bring me back to life, Charlotte.

I did not forget my promise. I've come back for you.

No, Robert!

I have frightened you!

I'm so sorry.

I've been too... presumptuous.

Do not bother with me, dear lady.

I could never deserve your hand.

'Oh, I met with my true love.'

Lover, make my bed soon, for I'm weary wi' hunting.

And fain would lie down.

Oh! I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall, my son!

I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!

Oh, yes, I am poisoned.

And so, who can imagine

the wretchedness and degradation of these unfortunates,

selling their bodies, the holy vessels of the Lord,

at the disgusting whims of lechers and fornicators?

Who can imagine the revoltingness of the acts they perform?

The way our sisters descend in a spiral of squalor

into eternal damnation, unless...

..oh, my friends, we stoop...

to lift them to the arms...

..of the Lord.

Not the best delivery I've heard - all performance and no real passion.

Oh, I liked it a lot. I thought Lord Randall particularly fine.

I preferred the more melancholy pieces.

I found it very exciting. Inspiring.

You are very young, Paul. So young.

And so impressionable.

Not so young. I'll soon be old enough to do what I want.

You can have no idea what you want. I certainly didn't at your age.

Life can be full of disappointments and... false hopes.

They can poison you, as Lord Randall was poisoned.

Whoa! Steady. Steady now.

I miss you! No! Not here! Never here!

DOOR OPENS

And how was the concert, Isabel?

Mostly a recital of romantic poetry. Paul liked that best.

How nice for you both.

And so, give generously to bring to our sisters

the one shining, heavenly spirit of the Lord.

I can manage perfectly well!

Follow me. Yes, Mother.

Thank you so much for coming.

Thank you so much for coming.

Such a joy. Bertie, I must talk to you.

Charlotte, are you quite well?

Robert Dangerfield has returned from India.

Robert Dangerfield?! This time he's back for good.

Or for bad. I can hardly feel

his return will occasion much rejoicing in the family.

Charlotte, stop your gossiping and hurry up!

Especially in you.

I've arranged to meet him in the park tomorrow.

Charlotte! Will you escort me there, Bertie?

You know the... Charlotte, will you hurry up?!

You should have joined us, Beatrice. You would've enjoyed it.

Would I? Evening, George.

ISABEL SIGHS

GEORGE SNIFFS

Jenkins, how long has this bottle been open?

I see. Well... Well, open a fresh one, would you?

It's a good job somebody in this house knows about wine.

Even if he does attend to it before his wife.

Oh, forgive me! My dear wife, Isabel!

My clever and promising nephew-by-marriage, Paul.

My esteemed brother-in-law, Roger.

And my dear sister, Beatrice.

There. Is everyone satisfied?

Right, Jenkins, let's try the wine.

HE SNIFFS

Better. Just.

Though not quite as good as I've been having elsewhere.

Though I dare say less expensive. Oh, come, come!

Isn't it enough by way of economy

that we all have to huddle together in one house?

Surely you wouldn't begrudge me an occasional evening out?

You should have accompanied Isabel to the recital.

Quite right. Though, sadly, I have no time for poetry.

I'm sure that Paul was a more suitable companion.

Every time. Ooh!

He's become quite a ladies' man.

Has he?

Though I'm afraid that winning ways and a knowledge of poetry

will not put bread into young Paul's mouth.

He'll have time to decide on a career while he's at Oxford.

I very much hope that he will eventually come into the firm.

Then he won't need to learn airs and graces at Oxford, will he?

They failed to teach you any.

I'm not coming into the firm.

I'm gonna pursue a career in the arts, writing poetry.

Blank verse, sonnets, epitaphs...

Well said. Paul, er...

you'll need to think about it very carefully.

We'll discuss it together, but not just now, eh?

I wonder if Paul's stepmother will be invited into the discussion!

In any case, she can tell you here and now

that Paul will be needed in the firm, so into the firm he will go.

Mother, if nobody else, will settle that.

Charlotte! Yes, Mama.

I thought I'd drunk more.

I think I'll have a brandy instead.

I feel the need for something a little stronger.

You've made it quite clear that I'm not to interfere about Paul.

But you can't let him imagine

that he has the freedom to choose his own future. None of us do.

Don't remind me, Beatrice.

I'm as sick of living in this prison as you are.

Roger, I'm sorry. I'm beginning to sound like Mother.

HE CHUCKLES

There's no danger of that, my love.

What's happening to us, Roger?

We were happy together once.

Now this is more like sharing a grave than a marriage bed.

Stop it, Beatrice.

You're too morbid. We both know this marriage

is alive only for the world outside. In this room, it's dead.

It doesn't have to be.

'And now, my darling Roger, I must go to bed - alone, alas.'

'There will be no touch on my thigh at dead of night

'to herald the conjuring of love's mysteries.'

Oh, God!

HE CHUCKLES

My dear Mr Browning, I do think your poetry so exquisite,

so full of life and passion,

and people doing it in the bottom of gondolas.

And on the roof of St Mark's!

I do wish my husband, Georgie-porgie,

would write poetry...

instead of making all that dreary money for me to spend.

I wish my husband would get out of this room.

You're as drunk and disgusting as ever.

Look. Just look at what you've done to me, my darling.

Rubbish! You were like this on our wedding night.

Your mother practically pushed you through the door.

Then... and every night,

my darling Isabel.

As if I give a damn. I need no urging.

Heel, George! Woof! Into your kennel!

Hello, Vandervent! It's been a long time.

Not long enough.

Sir? Sir? Mr Dangerfield, sir?

Not now, Thompkins.

Excuse me, Mr Dangerfield, sir,

the club manager wishes to speak with you, sir.

A little matter of a, er, excuse me, sir -

a forgotten account to be settled.

All in good time, Thompkins. All in good time.

You're late. Come on!

I've just come from my club.

I met a man I hoped I'd never have to set eyes on again.