Vanity Fair

The story so far:

In Brussels, Becky made a triumphant entrance into high society

on the winnings of her talented husband.

I believe your Rawdon is widely famed for his skills as a player.

Becky's charms worked all too well on the wrong man.

Bad and wicked woman!

False friend and false wife!

The world at war, the women left behind.

The battle so close.

Tonight, Becky decides that war isn't so bad,

so long as there's money to be made.

Yes, it's Vanity Fair.

A world where everyone is striving...

for what is not worth having.

If we don't get there soon,

it'll all be over without this regiment firing a shot.

Somehow I doubt that, George.

Lord, the poor fellow, sir.

Help will come to them. Eyes forward, lad.

We will fight together bravely, as we've been trained to do.

No harm shall come to us.

Oh, gosh, oh, gosh, oh, gosh!

Oh, dear. Oh, dear me!

Keep calm, don't panic! Oh, dear heavens!

Mr Joseph!

How is your poor, dear sister today?

He... says that the French have left

20,000 British dead upon the battlefield,

and she says the army are retreating in the utmost confusion!

- Rumours? - Yes.

The French are within ten miles of the city

and have orders to kill every man within the walls.

Did you find any horses?

- Non. - Try again!

Merde!

Yes, my sister, good question!

Even I, a peer of the realm,

cannot be expected to spirit horses out of thin air during a battle, madam.

Shame on a husband who cannot defend the virtue of his weak and feeble lady.

Weak and what...? Good God, madam, have you never looked in the mirror?

- Testing times, my Lord Bareacres. - Oh, indeed!

Oh, madam, if you should know of any horses hereabouts that have,

yet to be requisitioned...

None to be had for love nor money.

You do know there's a war on?

Here, my darlings.

Here I am.

Do you miss my Rawdon?

Madame!

Silence!

The boy will tell the lords, the lords will tell the ladies,

and you... my pretty ones...

will make my fortune today.

Sounds just like my grandmother shaking out her blankets.

Tiffin?

Your husband mustn't find you ill when he sends for you after the victory.

- I can't. - Try, Emmy.

Please try!

The soup is very good.

How can I eat?

Remember, you're not the only woman whose life is in God's hands today.

Begging your pardon, miss.

Lady Bareacres sends her compliments,

and desires to know the price of Captain Crawley's horses...

..What are hidden in the stables.

How odd...

that your mistress should think it could ever be in my custom

to transact business with a servant.

Send me her lady's maid, would she?

Whatever next - would her ladyship require me to saddle the horses myself?

Muck out their stables? I am insulted, sir!

Yes.

Quite.

Can you hear something? Halt!

Quiet, boy!

Take cover for the cavalry ride! Form square! Quick, spread out!

Protect the colours!

- We're too late. - Gad, they're upon us.

The French have broken through our lines!

Hold the line!

Standard-bearer, to me! To me!

I cannot sell my horses to such as will not love them.

I shall love any creature that will get me home to England.

Ah, but you won't get home, my lady.

The French are at the gates, and they'll get you first.

You, and the two great rubies you wore to the Duchess of Richmond's ball.

But fear not.

I imagine the gems will interest the savages much more

than the lady who wears them.

Sell to me, and not only shall you have my rubies,

but I shall so far extend my dignity

as to invite you to dine with your betters at Bareacres Hall.

If I had any betters in this world,

Bareacres Hall is the last place I should expect to find them.

Name your price, woman!

Beyond rubies.

Are you hurt?

There we go, darling. You all right?

The strumpet refuses to sell!

"March to Waterloo," He says.

I can't see any such place on this map.

Crawley!

Crawley!

Where in buggeration is Waterloo?

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness.

The guns!

- What? - The guns, listen! They are silent!

So they are.

For tonight, at least.

The men on that hill over there.

I see no hill.

Not in this murk.

Hundreds of them.

Thousands.

All God's creatures, just like you and me, George.

And yet, tonight, with all my soul,

I wish them as dead as the earth they sit upon.

What kind of world would it be if the wishes of dear old Dobbin of ours

fell always on deaf ears?

Ours shall be the glory, old friend. Depend upon it.

Mr. Joseph!

Sit.

No appetite?

What can ail you so?

A most tragical want of horses.

What do you need horses for?

You can't imagine Amelia would leave without her husband.

And clearly, you would not leave without your sister, so...

..here we shall remain...

to await a fate worse than death.

They say the enemy shall spare the women.

How unusual!

I do fear for you, Mr. Joseph.

Should the French find you looking quite so much the military man.

Your military greatcoat, monsieur, with the gold frogging.

Take it!

- Your velvet cap with the ostrich feath... - Take it!

Take what you like, but find me some damned horses!

I have heard a rumour, sir.

Beneath a confident rider, he is as quiet as a lamb and as fast as a hare.

- Can he stand my weight? - Oh, and strong as an ox!

So you and Amelia on Bullfinch, and your servant and Mrs O'Dowd on Foxcub.

Buy both animals?

The horses are inseparable, sir.

As are the ladies.

But when my Rawdon comes home.

If he comes home. Oh, Mr Sedley!

Mrs Crawley...

I beg you, how much for Bullfinch and Foxcub?

It'll break his heart.

Becky, for the love of God, how much?

God forgive you, Mr Sedley, for you are nothing better than a coward!

Don't listen to her, Emmy.

Fine sight I would be riding pillion behind that great dandy!

I have two horses. I have near bankrupted myself to get them.

I don't budge till I get the word from Mick!

And I'm not asking you, you mad Paddy witch!

Amelia, dear sister, for the last time, will you come with me?

Joseph, dearest brother...

..I cannot leave without my husband.

Then dear God preserve you.

How bad is it?

Oh, now, look.

Our first poor fellows are back. Come on.

- George, George... Please, God! - Don't wish for anything,

and remember, we are in God's hands.

God!

George!

Mrs Osborne.

- Ambushed. - George?

- He lives. - Oh, thanks be to God!

- The Major? - All spared.

Captain Dobbin said I was to be taken in here.

You've to pay the driver two Napoleons.

My mother will pay you back.

Right. Yes! Who can help him, come on.

Help him down.

Be careful!

Epaulettes, plumes, straight from the battlefield.

The blood still warm on some of this latest German stuff, madame.

No, I only want French ones.

Onwards, Isidor. Ever onwards!

You can get a new hat.

It was Captain Osborne who cut down the Frenchman who slashed me.

Slowly, slowly, slowly.

- Voila. Voila. - He was a hero.

And so is Dobbin.

Best officer in the army, is Captain Dobbin, ma'am.

So kind. And modest, and cool under fire.

- And so... we saw them off. - And so the war is over?

Lord, no, miss.

No.

They're only waiting for the ground to dry.

Come on, be brave. Come on.

That's it.

Well prepared.