Possession

[Birds Chirping]

[Man] | They say that women change.

'Tis so,

but you are ever-constant | in your changefulness.

Like that still thread | of falling river,

one from source to last embrace | in the still pool.

Ever-anewed | and ever-moving on.

From first to last. | " From first to last,

a myriad water drops. | "a myriad water drops.

"And you... | I love you for it...

are the force that moves | and holds the form."

Now, ladies and gentlemen, | you've just heard a snippet...

from one of only two copies | of this poem...

by Mr. Randolph Henry Ash,

poet laureate | to Queen Victoria herself.

And this gorgeous ode | to his nuptial bliss,

written in his own hand, | begins our bidding today.

May we start the bidding | please at L40,000.

- Bit of an old monster. | - Yeah.

But an important monster. | It's Randolph Ash's.

Yes. Who are you | with again?

I'm, uh, Roland Michell. | Who?

- Professor Blackadder's | research assistant. | - Isn't that Dr. Wolfe?

Was. Fergus got the lectureship | at SaintJohn's... over me.

Of course he did. | Oh, yes, Dr. Wolfe | mentioned you.

You're that American | who's over here.

[Chuckles] | Well, I'm sure | there are others.

I mean, after all, | you are our favorite colony.

[Man] | L10,000. Any further | offers on L10,000?

L11,000.

So when do your little | suffragist trinkets | come up for the...

Look, Maud, | it's Mortimer Cropper.

[Maud] | Oh, yes. That's someone | you should know.

- You know him? | - Of him.

Suffered through | a lecture or two. | That sort of thing. | Really.

Mm-hmm. | He's a voracious collector | from what I hear.

Yes. His penchant | for conquests | is well documented.

It's | a very male quality. | Mm.

I know it's vulgar, | but I have to introduce myself.

Oh, all right.

Oh, uh... Damn. | Let's begin the bidding | please at L4,000.

L4,000. L4,000. | Excuse me. Sorry.

L4,500. | Um, Professor Cropper, | Fergus Wolfe.

Um, we spoke actually | after one of your papers | at, uh, at Trinity.

You wouldn't remember. | I'm sorry, I don't. | Nice coat though.

Oh, thank you. | Uh, James Blackadder. | You're with?

Ah, you're one of | Blackadder's boys | from the British Museum.

Hello. | Hildebrand Ash,

man of leisure. | Oh, hello.

[Cropper] | I don't know why Blackadder | comes to these things.

[Chuckles] | He hasn't got any money.

Well, he's Irish, you see. | He enjoys feeling persecuted.

[Randolph's Voice] | Dear Madame: :

Since our pleasant conversation, | I have thought oflittle else.

I write with a strong sense | of the necessity...

of continuing our talk.

Dear Madame:
: | I know that you came only | to honor Crabb-Robinson...

at his small, | informal party...

because he had been | of assistance | to your illustrious father.

Excuse me, sir.

Meal is served.

Thank you.

- Well, hello. | - Hello.

Ah, my tenant. | Your evening sherry.

Thank you.

Candy, this is Roland. | Roland, Candy.

- Hello again. | - Be a love | and check on the duck, eh?

- Okay. | - So, coming in?

So how do you | always know it's me?

I'm a solicitor. | I know everything.

Candy, huh? | Oh, no, no, no, | please.

Candy's just a friend. | Why, are you interested?

I told you | I'm off women. | Yeah, but...

it isn't a reason | to be off women.

Why do we always | sit in your hall?

'Cause it's the best room | in the house, really. I bought | this place for the hallway.

So, I found something today | I think is pretty incredible | in the London Library.

- A place to sit. | - No.

I found something of Ash's. | You know Randolph Ash?

Ash. Oh, doesn't he have | some sort of celebration going?

It's the centenary | of his love poems. | Terribly mushy ones.

Found after his death | or something, weren't they?

Is the table laid, | darling?

Listen. | What's it cost an hour?

No, no, Candy's a friend | I told you.

Not her, you. | What do you charge an hour, | roughly?

Oh, uh, I don't know. | Five hundred.

- Pounds? | - Mm-hmm.

- Jesus, no wonder | you have a nice hallway. | - Thank you.

Okay, I wanna buy seven minutes | of attorney/ client privilege | right now.

Step into my office.

Ash wrote those. | They're not the originals.

- Yeah. | - Oh, my God.

How much time we got left? | I've got to think of | a defense for you.

They're practically | love letters.

Well, they're racy, | actually. | See, Ash...

supposedly never even looked | at another woman.

I mean, not even glanced at one | his entire marriage.

Can you imagine | what would happen | if I could prove...

that Mr. Perfect Husband had | this, like, Shakespearean-type | dark lady thing going?

Darling, the duck's done.

Would you be a sweetheart | and do the sauce?

Yes, yes.

- Duck, huh? | - Yeah, Peking.

- It's from around the corner. | - [Snickers]

Yeah, but that | would be extraordinary.

It would be rewriting | history, old chap.

Yeah, it would be.

[People Chattering]

Morning. | Morning.

Roland. | Professor.

I think | I made a discovery.

It'll turn out to have been | discovered 20 times already.

- I don't think so. | - Surprise me.

Ash's copy of Vico | in the London Library.

It's full of his own notes | on loose bits of paper | all the way through.

- Useful? | - Very.

Better have a look. | See what's what before...

people turn up | with his checkbook. | I also found... Professor.

They made a mockery | over at Sotheby's yesterday. | L1900 for a toothpick.

- [Scoffs] | - Fergus. Where is Fergus?

- He's supposed to be teaching. | - I'll come with you.

No need. | The novice blunders | on the discovery.

The scholar investigates.

You get on with | those wretched requests | for Ellen's stuff.

I'll go straight from there | to my class.

Thank you, Roland. | What a wonderful discovery. | They're magically delicious.

- He's a meany. | - That's a very nice name | for what he is.

Wretched requests, please.

[Chuckles] | " How many jars | of gooseberry jam...

did Ash's wife, Ellen, | make in 1850?"

Hmm. This is not | a job for a grown-up.

Gooseberry.

Cooking. | Gooseberry jam.

Cooking, 143.

What about a small, | informal party?

1859.

[Ellen's Voice] My headache | last night prevented me | from accompanying Randolph...

to dear Crabb-Robinson's...

for a dinner honoring | the poetess Christabel LaMotte.

He was reluctant | to attend without me, | but I was persistent...

and finally persuaded him.

Ash, you know | Professor Spear.

I'm delighted.

Mrs. Jameson. | Mrs. Jameson.

Charmed.

Miss Glover.

Oh, Miss Glover.

- And Miss LaMotte. | - Miss LaMotte.

The highest pleasure.

[Ellen Narrating] | Randolph reported the party went | off very well, indeed.

The discussion of poetry | was animated,

with Miss LaMotte | speaking more forcibly | than anyone expected.

Surprises me, madame, | that a lady who lives | as quietly as you do...

wouldn't be aware | of my modest success.

Oh, I'm very aware | that the papers | herald you weekly.

It is you, however, | who surprise me.

- And why is that? | - Judging from your work,

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