Mary Shelley Page #4

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[laughing]

[joyful screaming]

Ladies.

It's down here.

[laughs]

[Mary squeals]

Thank you.

Oh!

[gentle, dramatic music ]

It is temporary, of course.

[Claire]

Well, where will I sleep?

Try through there.

[chuckles]

I am going to find us

a house...

...and I intend it

to be perfect.

It already is perfect.

I have you.

Wherever we're together

is where I belong.

Are you sure, Mary?

Only if you are ready,

my love.

[airy, dramatic music ]

[Mary, voiceover] I'm free

to write what I please.

Like a torrent of light

poured into a dark world.

All around me I see bliss,

'cause I now know what it is

to love...

[Shelley, voiceover]

Its very essence is liberty.

[Mary, voiceover]

...and be loved.

[Shelley, voiceover] It is comparable

neither with obedience, jealousy nor fear.

It is there, most pure,

perfect and unlimited.

...close round the dying girl.

[pretending to choke]

Out and in they hurry and spin

and dance, through the dance.

They dance

through the weary Whirl.

Patience, patience,

though my heart is breaking.

God, there is no

question-making

of thy body thou art

quit and free.

Heaven keep thy soul eternally!

I trust you've enjoyed

the last of the claret?

Would it be unwise to ask how

it went today?

My publishers are fools.

Don't let them upset you.

They're not worth it.

But their advance is worth

everything, Mary.

My father has cut me off.

He says I've disgraced

his name

because of the scandal

that surrounds us.

So now you know.

[crowd chattering]

[Godwin] This one. Is

that of any interest?

No?

Not interested in those.

What else do you have?

Well, 'Iliad' by Homer

in the original Greek.

Father?

It's been weeks.

You're selling it?

Yes. There comes a time

when we all

have to let go of the

things we hold dear.

It's your decision, Mary,

and you must live with it.

He claims to love humanity

yet forsakes his child.

I wish nothing more than that

you should thrive.

But, look at you.

[Vendor]

So, do you want to sell it?

No.

[Shelley]

Erasmus Darwin once wrote...

[Claire]

Who is Erasmus Darwin?

[Shelley]

A poet and a physician.

He once wrote that a man who has never

tried an experiment in his life is a fool.

[faint conversation]

[Shelley]

...on my sister's cat.

[Claire] Oh Shelley, you didn't!

[giggles]

[Shelley] No, I didn't. I have

the claw marks to prove it.

[laughter]

What's going on?

I remembered a debt unpaid.

I know how much

you love science, Mary.

Watch this.

[laughs]

[Mary]

This is incredible.

[Shelley]

And this is for you.

[Mary]

Shelley.

You shouldn't have spent

money on dresses.

Don't be silly, Mary,

it's beautiful.

That is not all.

Tomorrow we move to our

new house in Bloomsbury.

- The servants will meet us there.

- Servants!

Because how can we write if

we are forced to tend

to such domestic mundanities

as the shopping

and the cleaning.

You make everything

seem possible.

- It's a step up from St. Pancras.

- Welcome home, Mary.

[giggles]

Stop.

[laughs]

Wait for me!

Come on.

[dramatic, romantic music ]

[soft moaning]

[Mary, voiceover] A day

devoted to love and idleness

but despite my earthly paradise I

feel a frustration born of guilt.

A constant whisper that I am no

closer to achieving my dreams.

Excuse me,

are you the poet Shelley?

Yes. Yes, I am.

- Would you sign my pocketbook?

- Of course.

Our friends will be

terribly jealous.

There.

Well, have a good day.

[Mary]

My love, I have news.

Oh, my Mary. Hey, a baby.

What news!

- You're happy?

- Of course I'm happy.

Why? Aren't you?

I've never had a mother.

What if I fail?

You think we can only learn

by example?

What of pure instinct? Of the

inherent good that lies in all of us?

And that, my darling,

you have in abundance.

- As will our little girl.

- You think it's a girl?

She will be our

very own prodigy.

[Harriet]

Ianthe, come here.

Good girl.

[quiet, melancholy music ]

Come, we have to go.

Now.

[Claire's voice, echoing] Take

me with you, please, take me.

Please, Mary,

take me with you.

Take me with you.

[Baby crying]

There is someone in my room.

Someone? Did you see him?

No. They...

- No one, nothing.

- [Mary] It's one of your nightmares, Claire.

- I will sit with her.

- [Shelley] No, no, I will take her to bed.

You need to rest. Think of the baby.

Claire, come on.

[quiet, mysterious music ]

She sleeps. Finally.

[birds chirping]

And you should, too.

I love you, Mary.

[dishes clattering]

Allow me to do it.

[laughter]

[Claire]

Absolutely no clue.

[Shelley] I can't tell if you're

telling the truth or not.

[Claire]

I am telling the truth.

[Shelley] Who's paying for it?

I'm paying for it?

[Claire]

No.

[Shelley] You're gonna ruin me, Claire

Clairmont. You're gonna ruin me.

- [Mary] What's all this for?

- Oh, there you are. Guess what.

Tonight we are having

a dinner party.

Come here. Don't we deserve

a little fun?

My dear, dear friend Thomas Hogg is in town

and has just published his first book.

So I thought we would throw

him a party to celebrate.

Ma'am, how many guests are we

expecting this evening?

Maybe 10.

10 or 12?

Did the publisher's advance

come in?

I borrowed against

my father's estate.

Percy, there's no way we can

afford to pay it back.

Come on... come here. Come.

[laughing]

[chattering]

I'm sorry it's not much of

a celebration, Mr Hogg.

It appears we're even more

scandalous than we realized.

Don't trouble yourself, Mary.

Shelley and I have a long

history of courting trouble.

We began writing a novel

together back at Oxford but

publishers deemed it

too subversive.

We had more success with our

treatise which we wrote anonymously:

'The Necessity of Atheism'.

- Because it was published?

- Because it resulted in our expulsion from Oxford.

[laughter]

I'm beginning to suspect you have

a penchant for being anonymous.

What's the point of being published if you

don't have your name on it? Why bother?

I assume you also write?

It's not anything

like my parents.

Soon Mary will produce a work

that will surpass all of us.

How about you,

Miss Clairmont?

Do you write or are there

other tricks you perform?

I have my own talents.

- Claire is an accomplished singer.

- So she says.

I'm yet to hear it.

[Hogg]

Will you sing for us?

I will sing, and if you

happen to overhear

I suppose,

it can't be helped.

She has spirit this one,

I can see why you keep her.

A sweet scented courtier did

give me a kiss

And promised me rightly that

I would be his

But I'll not believe him for

it is too true

Courtiers promise much more

than they do

My thing is my own

That I'll keep it so still

Other young lassies can do

what they will

[door knocks]

Ma'am, Mr. Hogg...

is here to see you.

Mr. Hogg?

Thank you, Eliza.

Shelley will be sorry to have missed you.

Would you care to wait?

I should like that very much,

Mary.

- Are you hungry?

- I'm fine, thank you.

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