Mrs Brown Page #9

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Somewhere on the Liberal back benches, a wild-eyed

maverick, DILKE, rises to his feet shouting:

DILKE:

Mr Speaker, I table a motion in

furtherance of the Bill to

Disestablish the Monarchy!

A roar from the irate TORIES and chaos reigns again.

SPEAKER:

Order! Order!! ORDER!!!

INT. THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, LOBBY CORRIDOR - NIGHT

An hour later the house is empty except for a few

straggling MPs hurrying home. An exhausted DISRAELI stands

in the corridor with STANLEY.

DISRAELI:

We're going to lose.

STANLEY:

You can't know that for sure.

DISRAELI:

Gladstone's got his party facing the

same way for the first time in years.

We need help.

(long beat)

Where is the old girl?

STANLEY:

Who?

DISRAELI:

Mrs Brown.

STANLEY:

It's questionable whether there's any

advantage to be had from that

direction. She's never been less

popular.

DISRAELI:

In the press, perhaps.

(holding up Punch)

But she's sold more copies of her

Highland Journal in three months than

Punch will ever sell in a year. Time

to wheel her out.

STANLEY:

She's refusing to leave Balmoral.

DISRAELI:

What's her excuse this time?

STANLEY:

The Princess Louisa is too ill to

move. Frankly, the Queen's rather

upset at the recent spate of bad

publicity.

(beat)

You're smiling.

DISRAELI:

I was trying to imagine "rather

upset."

The elderly prelate, DEAN WELLSELLY, hurries in through the

lobby doors. DISRAELI puts on a welcoming smile.

DEAN WELLSELLY:

Forgive me, gentlemen. I'm late.

DISRAELI:

Not at all, Dean. Good of you to

spare the time.

DEAN WELLSELLY:

I came as quickly as I could.

DISRAELI:

You've seen the latest cartoon in

Punch, I take it?

DEAN WELLSELLY:

(completely lost)

I beg your pardon?

DISRAELI opens the copy of Punch and hands it to Dean

Wellselly. The Dean clears his throat and starts to read.

DISRAELI:

(as Wellselly reads)

One of our madder brethren in the

house was calling for disestablishment

of the monarchy.

Dean Wellselly looks up from the article, horrified.

DEAN WELLSELLY:

Good Lord.

STANLEY:

(playing the soft glove)

I'm sure it won't come to that.

DISRAELI:

(the hard glove)

No. But it has now become a matter

for our consciences.

(beat)

I was just telling Stanley how vital

it is that the nation should feel the

visible influence of the Sovereign.

As a reminder that Parliament, indeed

my own ministry, depends on the will

of the Queen.

DEAN WELLSELLY nods his head gravely. Over his shoulder,

STANLEY is gaping at DISRAELI's silky distortion of the

party political maneuver into a moral imperative.

DEAN WELLSELLY:

I couldn't agree with you more, but I

am only Dean of Windsor. I don't

understand what ...

DISRAELI interrupts.

DISRAELI:

We hear from Balmoral that Mr Brown is

interesting Her Majesty in some of the

forms of worship associated with ...

low-church Presbyterian.

Silence. DEAN WELLSELLY'S face is a picture of

unrestrained horror. Low-church. Presbyterian.

DEAN WELLSELLY:

What can we do?

DISRAELI:

Oh, several things.

INT. BALMORAL CASTLE, QUEEN'S DRAWING ROOM - DAY

Some days later.

Queen VICTORIA sits at her desk while Henry PONSONBY stands

in front of her, holding a copy of The Times.

VICTORIA:

Read it.

PONSONBY:

Again?

VICTORIA:

Read it!

PONSONBY coughs once and begins again.

PONSONBY:

"The Times wishes to join the rest of

Her Majesty's loyal subjects in

expressing its deep joy at the news

that the Queen is soon to come out of

her mourning."

VICTORIA glowers at him.

VICTORIA:

Who told them that?

PONSONBY:

I have no idea.

VICTORIA:

Why not?

PONSONBY:

I -- forgive me, ma'am, I am no wiser

than yourself.

Suddenly, VICTORIA's temper goes and she shouts at him.

VICTORIA:

No-one should think themselves wiser

than me!

(beat)

It is not for any of the Queen's

subjects to presume to tell Her

Majesty when and where She should come

out of mourning. It is the Queen's

sorrow that keeps her secluded! It is

Her overwhelming amount of work and

responsibility, work which She feels

will soon wear her out entirely!

PONSONBY:

Your Majesty --

VICTORIA:

(cutting right through him)

Is it not enough that She is uncheered

and unguided that she should also have

to suffer these malicious rumors?!

(a pause, more quietly)

I am not a fool.

(beat)

I know there are those in the

establishment too afraid to attack me

and so they attack my dearest friends.

Sometimes -- I feel that Brown is all

I have left of Albert.

(beat)

And now they attack Brown too.

She looks up, eyes blazing.

VICTORIA (CONT'D)

I will not give him up to them.

INT. BALMORAL CASTLE, ROOM ADJOINING DRAWING ROOM - DAY

BROWN is guarding the door to the drawing room while the

balding BERTIE muscles up, eye ball to eye ball.

BERTIE:

I wish to see my mother.

BROWN:

She's busy.

BERTIE:

Convey her a message.

BROWN:

She's away to Windsor tomorrow. Talk

to her there.

BERTIE:

Tell her the Prince of Wales wishes to

speak with her urgently about matters

concerning the press.

BROWN:

Are you deaf as well as stupid?

A split-second. BERTIE gapes at him.

BERTIE:

What did you say?

BROWN:

I said, are you deaf as well as

stupid?

BERTIE:

Do you know who you address, sir?

BROWN:

Whom you address.

BERTIE:

The future King!

A beat.

BROWN:

Well, everyone's entitled to their

opinion.

BERTIE:

Out of my way!

Foolishly, BERTIE tries to barge his way past. Suddenly

BROWN loses it completely. He grabs the Prince of Wales by

the shoulders and pins him back, shouting right into his

face.

BROWN:

LEAVE US ALONE, WHY DON'T YOU!!

For a split-second, BROWN's eyes flicker as he senses he

has gone too far. A look of pure venom in BERTIE'S face,

then ...

EXT. WINDSOR CASTLE, QUADRANGLE - NIGHT

Weeks later.

In a roar of hooves and wheels, the Royal Carriage sweeps

into the huge quadrangle. JOHN BROWN stands rigid on the

box, glowering at all the world.

CAPTION:
"WINDSOR"

INT. WINDSOR CASTLE, SERVANT'S CORRIDOR - NIGHT

A pair of doors open out onto a torchlit driveway as a mass

of SERVANTS rush in and out, ferrying bags an trunks.

BROWN marches in, still charged-up from the strain of the

journey's watchfulness. He spots an UNDER-PORTER snatching

a break.

BROWN:

You! What's your business here?!

UNDER-PORTER

(jumping to)

Under-porter, sir.

BROWN:

Well, don't stand where you shouldn't!

The UNDER-PORTER scrambles up the stairs. A few SERVANTS

exchange looks. BROWN seems more determined than ever to

exert his control.

EXT. WINDSOR CASTLE, STABLES - NIGHT

That night.

Carrying an old storm lamp high over his head, BROWN walks

towards the stables.

EXT. THE GROUNDS OF WINDSOR CASTLE - DAY

The next day.

BROWN is on horseback, riding with VICTORIA through the

grounds. He is still jumpy, eyes flicking left and right,

searching for intruders. They are being followed at a

distance by two EQUERRIES on horseback. VICTORIA frowns

peevishly.

VICTORIA:

Must they always follow us?

BROWN:

I ordered it. It's for your own

safety.

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