Mrs Brown

---

EXT. THE GROUNDS OF WINDSOR CASTLE, FOREST - NIGHT

Begin on black. The sound of rain driving into trees.

Something wipes frame and we are suddenly hurtling through

a forest on the shoulders of a wild-eyed, kilted JOHN

BROWN. Drenched hair streaming, head swivelling left and

right, as he searches the lightening-dark. A crack to his

left. He spins round, raises his pistol, smacks past

saplings and plunges on.

EXT. THE GROUNDS OF WINDSOR CASTLE, FOREST - NIGHT

Close-up on BROWN as he bangs against a tree and heaves for

air. A face in its fifties, mad-fierce eyes, handsome,

bruised lips, liverish. He goes on searching the dark.

Stops. Listens through the rain. A beat. Thinking he

hears a faint thump in the distance, he swings round and

races on.

EXT. THE GROUNDS OF WINDSOR CASTLE, FOREST - NIGHT

BROWN tears through the trees, pistol raised at full arm's

length, breath coming harder and harder. But even now

there's a ghost grace, a born hunter's grace. He leaps

fallen branches, swerves through turns in the path, eyes

forward, never stumbling once.

EXT. THE GROUNDS OF WINDSOR CASTLE, FOREST - NIGHT

BROWN bursts into a clearing, breaks to the centre and

stops. With his pistol raised, he turns one full slow

circle. His eyes take in every swerve and kick of the

wildly swaying trees.

There's a crack and a branch snaps behind him. He spins

round, bellows deep from his heart:

BROWN:

God save the Queen!!

And fires.

Nothing happens. The trees go on swaying, the storm goes

on screaming and BROWN just stands there, staring into

empty space. A pause.

Slowly, he starts to frown as the fact begins to dawn on

him that he is alone. He stares at the thrashing trees,

waving their mocking arms at him. His hand lets the pistol

drop to his side. He feels the rain drench down his face.

And now, for the first time, we see that his socks have

fallen to his ankles and his knees are cut to shreds. He

shifts a foot. His dress-shoes are covered in mud. He

goes on staring into the dark. Nothing.

Just the wind and rain. Gradually, we pull back, higher

and higher. As we do, we hear the quiet cultivated voice:

FADE TO BLACK.

CAPTION:
"1864"

FADE IN:

PONSONBY (V.O.)

I have sent for a Mr. John BROWN from

Balmoral. Her majesty has mentioned

him, on one or two occasions, as being

a most devoted outdoor servant to

Prince Albert during his last days

there...

John BROWN is now just a tiny figure dwarfed by the storm.

CUT TO:

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, QUEEN VICTORIA'S DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The screen is black. As the camera pulls back, we discover

that we are looking at a black night-gown.

Queen VICTORIA is sitting at her dressing table, while an

elderly HAIRDRESSER, also in black, works at her hair.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... The depths of the Queen's sorrow

remain impenetrable. She has now

restricted herself to a regime of such

ferocious introspection that we are

all at our wits' end...

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, PRINCE ALBERT'S DRESSING ROOM - DAY

A bust of the Prince Consort is draped in black. His desk

is laid out as if for work. A VALET is brushing one of his

suits before laying it carefully on the bed.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... The Household continues, at her

instruction, to observe the rituals

now so familiar to her, in a vain

attempt to render vivid that which can

never be revived...

Close-up on a small table as a shaving brush is placed

carefully beside a dish of freshly poured water.

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, QUEEN VICTORIA'S DRESSING ROOM - DAY

The hairdresser is pulling VICTORIA's hair back into the

widow's cape. For the first time, we see her face. It is

set in a mask of severity.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... It will not surprise you to hear

that she continues steadfast in her

refusal to accept any public

engagements, however trivial...

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, QUEEN VICTORIA'S BEDCHAMBER - DAY

A bronze cast of Prince Albert's hand hangs above the Royal

bed. His sleeping-gown is laid out on one side.

A somberly dressed middle-aged man stands by the bed:

DOCTOR JENNER, the Queen's physician. He is placing

potions and medicaments in a row on the bedside table.

Behind him, TWO MAIDSERVANTS are busy stripping and

remaking the bed while another raises the window to air the

room.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... Family and staff expend all their

efforts endeavouring to draw her out

of this state of unfettered morbidity,

but to no avail. Indeed, Doctor

Jenner will not undertake to vouchsafe

her sanity, unless some remedy is

found...

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, QUEEN VICTORIA'S DRESSING ROOM - DAY

VICTORIA is turning slowly around as a young ASSISTANT

DRESSER completes the fastening on her black crepe dress.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... We must hope, therefore, that this

Mr Brown will appeal to the Queen's

sentimental, though deeply-held, view

that all Highlanders are good for the

health. If she can at least be

persuaded to take the air, the

prospect of further recovery may seem

less remote...

The assistant dresser pulls too tightly on her dress.

VICTORIA winces slightly.

ASSISTANT DRESSER

(terrified)

Sorry, ma'am.

EXT. THE SEA FRONT, ISLE OF WIGHT - DAY

We glide slowly past the coastline as a caption reads:

"ISLE OF WIGHT. 1864."

A DRIVER stands against the sea front with a horse and cart

bearing the Royal coat of arms.

John BROWN leads his pony along the dockside, towards the

waiting driver. He is in his late thirties, fit, handsome

and dressed in tartan kilt and short jacket.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... He is arriving by boat this

afternoon, by which time it is hoped

Her Majesty will be in a fit state to

consider riding out...

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, PRIVATE SECRETARY'S ROOM - DAY

SIR HENRY PONSONBY, the Queen's Private Secretary, is

sitting at his writing desk, completing a letter.

PONSONBY (V.O.)

... As to that decision, along with

all others, we remain, as ever,

prisoners of the Queen's grief.

(beat)

Ever your devoted husband, Henry.

He folds the letter and slips it into an envelope. He is a

middle-aged man in a dark mourning suit; tall, Saturnine

and with a civil servant's stoop. As he looks up, we see a

white-stockinged FOOTMAN standing to attention by the door.

PONSONBY hands the letter to him.

PONSONBY (CONT'D)

Windsor.

CUT TO:

CAPTION:
"OSBORNE HOUSE, ISLE OF WIGHT"

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, CORRIDOR AND QUEEN'S DINING ROOM - DAY

A series of windows are being slammed open by white

stockinged FOOTMEN as members of the ROYAL FAMILY and UPPER

HOUSEHOLD hurry by in silence, all dressed in mourning and

rushing to make the luncheon hour.

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, QUEEN'S DRAWING ROOM - DAY

Queen VICTORIA heads down the empty corridor with two

ladies-in-waiting, LADY ELY and LADY CHURCHILL, hurrying

along a pace behind.

INT. OSBORNE HOUSE, QUEEN'S DINING ROOM - DAY

Members of the Royal family and upper household hurry into

the icy dining room and take their designated places at the

luncheon table. Everybody is dressed in mourning and

nobody speaks. Wind whistles through the open windows.

Silence.

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