Mrs Brown Page #15

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And fires.

INT. WINDSOR CASTLE, CORRIDOR - NIGHT

A few days later.

VICTORIA is moving swiftly down a long corridor with LADY

ELY. They arrive at a door. VICTORIA stands facing it.

VICTORIA:

(quietly)

How long has he been this sick?

LADY ELY:

A few days, ma'am.

VICTORIA:

Why was I not told earlier?

LADY ELY doesn't answer. VICTORIA knows anyway. She nods.

LADY ELY knocks. The door is opened by a young UNDER

SERVANT who gawps at the sight of Her Majesty standing here

in the servant's quarters. VICTORIA walks in.

INT. WINDSOR CASTLE, BROWN'S QUARTERS - NIGHT

The room has been cleared of bottles, but the thinness of

the life here shocks her deeply. The cheap furniture, the

anonymous prints, the bed and, finally, the sight of BROWN.

He is lying in bed, barely conscious. After a moment, he

opens his eyes and stares at her. She steps forward,

smiling nervously.

Her voice is the old voice, between friends.

VICTORIA:

You should never have gone out in such

foul weather.

BROWN:

Someone has to look after you.

(pause)

It could've been someone. It was

before.

VICTORIA:

Yes. Yes it was.

He cannot speak. It's difficult for her too, but she

speaks for him.

VICTORIA (CONT'D)

My Ministers are as impertinent as

ever. Dispatches are now so numerous,

they come in a trunk. Sometimes I do

believe they will never stop. Endless

letters...

Her voice falters. A pause

VICTORIA (CONT'D)

I know I have not always been the

loyal friend you deserved, John. And

yet here I am now, even now, feeling

desperate at the thought of losing

you.

She starts to cry.

BROWN:

Don't be silly, woman.

His old, familiar gruffness makes her smile and she pulls

herself together. Seeing a bowl of water on the side

table, she steps across. Carefully folding a cloth in

four, she rinses it in the water and gently wipes his face.

Leaning closer, she is about to touch his face when BROWN

gestures protectively.

BROWN (CONT'D)

Not too near.

INT. WINDSOR CASTLE, CORRIDOR - DAY

A week later. PONSONBY and JENNER stand at the window

overlooking the grounds.

JENNER:

Erysipelas.

PONSONBY:

Not too protracted, I hope.

JENNER:

(shakes his head)

A few days...

(beat)

When he heard, the Prince of Wales

threw the bust from the window of the

Royal Gallery. It took four hours to

gather the fragments.

A beat.

PONSONBY:

The Queen wishes to publish an account

of him.

JENNER:

Dear oh dear.

PONSONBY:

We think she can be dissuaded.

(beat)

Have you had a glance at the diary?

JENNER:

Yes.

PONSONBY:

Quite.

(beat)

I think I'd best take it back.

JENNER:

Of course.

He brings out BROWN'S tatty diary-manuscript and hands it

over to PONSONBY. The two men move away from the window,

to go their separate ways. Daily business beckons.

JENNER (CONT'D)

Where did you find it by the way?

PONSONBY:

Some young page was boasting about

having seen it.

(beat)

Lucky.

JENNER nods.

JENNER:

Well, no rest for the wicked, Henry.

PONSONBY:

No, indeed.

The two men head off in opposite directions down the

corridor.

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