Gosford Park Page #12

the servants' hall gossip,

she won't get any of her estate

till her mother dies.

- Honestly, Jeremy...

- If that's the case, it's too long to wait.

You can do better.

H-Have you checked your room?

You mustn't leave anything behind.

I'm sure Mummy's

going to sell the house.

Isabel

lsabel. lsabel!

Sidney Kent's

taking over the studio.

He loves Charlie Chan

and he hates Winfield Sheehan.

- Sir. - No more rewrites,

and I can cast whoever I like

Well, that was painless, wasn't it?

No, it wasn't.

- Hmm.

- Not for me, anyway

Careful, careful.

Watch yourself.

Whoa!

Do they know?

- No.

- Don't you think they might notice?

I don't care.

Hey, you there.

Where you going?

To the station.

Hey, you want a ride to London?

Sure. Why not?

- Hop in.

- Thank you.

There you go.

Well, good luck.

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

At least I know that gives me

room for manoeuvre.

No, keep your hands to yourself.

You Brits really don't have

a sense of humor, do you?

We do if something's funny, sir.

- Mr. Jennings, can...

- Be quick about it.

Honestly,

it's getting so expensive,

by the time one does Jennings

and leave something for the housemaids,

one might as well

have taken a suite at the Ritz.

Tell me, what happened

to William's little maid?

I never saw her again

after that dinner.

- Elsie?

- Mmm.

- She's gone.

- Ohh. That's a pity, really.

Thought it was a good idea to have someone

in the house who's actually sorry he's dead.

Oh, there you are, dear.

Did you have a nice ride?

I'm feeling rather guilty. Apparently

everyone's gone, apart from you and Louisa.

- Why don't you stay for lunch?

- No, I must be off.

Leave you in peace.

Now, you will...

you will telephone...

about the funeral plans, mmm?

- You don't have to come if it's a bore.

- Nonsense. Of course I'm coming.

Have you decided what you're going

to do about this place?

Oh, I don't know.

Will you keep it?

It's so difficult.

- I mean, does one really want

the bother nowadays? - Mmm.

I suppose I could shut it up...

and make a decision

when my head stops spinning.

Mrs. Wilson could manage

till you're ready.

Oh, yes, she could manage, all right.

Let's not worry about that.

No doubt she'll seize the opportunity

to get rid of the wretched Mrs. Croft.

- Why are those two such enemies?

- I don't know.

Something to do with when they were both

workers in one of William's sweatshops.

Mrs. Croft was the senior then.

She was the cook.

And Mrs. Wilson

a lowly factory worker.

Now that she's got up in the world,

poor old Croftie can't abide it.

The usual rubbish.

- Was there ever a Mr. Wilson?

I can't imagine it. - Nor could I.

Although, funnily enough,

I think there must have been.

Really?

You amaze me.

She might have changed her name,

but when she was working with William she

was called something quite different...

Parks or Parker or Parkinson

or something like that.

Come in.

- You're busy. - No, no, I was just

checking the linen rotation.

If I'd have left it to the maids,

the same 20 sheets would be used

till they fell into rags.

Why did you do it?

How did you know it was him?

Was it the name, or did you

see the photograph in his room?

Ah, yes, the photograph.

It's a miracle that survived.

I remember his mother

putting it into his blanket.

I suppose she wanted him

to have something of hers.

Does he know what happened to her?

They said she died

just after he was born.

Well, she didn't die.

She gave him away.

He promised the boy would be adopted.

He said he knew the family.

Turns out we all

clung to that dream,

all us girls.

A better start in life

for our children.

And all the time he was dumping them,

his own children,

in some godforsaken place.

And I believed him.

I suppose it was easier that way.

My sister certainly

never forgave me for it.

Your sister?

Yes, Mrs. Croft.

She's my sister. Didn't you know?

She kept hers, you see.

It was very hard for her. She lost

her job, and then the baby died anyway

Scarlet fever.

I made him take her back.

She never forgave me for that either.

But even if Robert is your son,

how did you know that

he meant to harm his father?

What gift do you think a good servant

has that separates them from the others?

It's the gift of anticipation.

And I'm a good servant.

I'm better than good. I'm the best.

I'm the perfect servant.

I know when they'll be hungry

and the food is ready.

I know when they'll be tired

and the bed is turned down.

I know it before

they know it themselves.

Are you going to tell him?

Why? What purpose

would it possibly serve?

What if they find out

what happened?

Not much of a crime

to stab a dead man, is it?

They can never touch him.

That's what's important... his life.

And your life?

Didn't you hear me?

I'm the perfect servant. I have no life.

Her Ladyship's leaving now, miss.

Thank you, George.

Well, you should go now,

Miss Trentham.

- Here you are, Jennings.

- Well, good-bye, Sylvia.

- Good-bye. For you.

- Thank you.

Do let us know if there's anything...

anything we can do to help.

Are you going away?

No, not once

the shooting's finished.

Thank you for your help last night.

You don't have to thank me.

You know I'd kill

for Mr. Jennings if I had to.

Don't cry, Jane.

They'll hear you.

Come on.

You did what you felt

was best for him at the time.

I see that now.

Lizzie.

I've lost him.

I've lost him.

He'll never know me now.

My boy.

Oh, my boy...

Well, at least your boy is alive.

He's alive.

That's what matters.

So, you're leaving.

Yes.

Good-bye then.

- Good-bye.

- Parks.

- Good-bye, my dear.

- Get in, Bennett.

Chin up, chin up.

- What a relief to be going.

- What time is it, Jennings?

It'll take me a month to recover.

- Oh, Mary.

- 12:
35, milady.

Do you think if there's a trial

I might have to testify in court?

Or you?

I can't think of anything worse.

Imagine a person being hanged

because of something one said in court.

I know.

And what purpose

could it possibly serve anyway'?

Good-bye.

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