Son of Fury Page #2

Why isn't the mare

at the house?

She's an arbitrary female.

She lost a shoe and kept it a secret.

You'll never learn,

will you, Ben?

- What?

- How to be civil to your superiors.

I'm always civil...

to my superiors.

Now you grow rude

and impertinent.

You women are all alike

accusing someone else of your own failings.

Mistress Isabel, your father

is waiting for the mare.

She's ready.

I'll bring her out.

Master Hobart, tell my father

I'm not well enough to ride today.

- Oh, I say. I mean, what

- Just say it's a headache.

I shall be quite

recovered at tea.

Huh. Well, it's good to know when

you're going to get over them, isn't it?

You didn't say

you were sorry I was ill.

If you are, then I am.

You presume to think I feigned a headache

to stay here and talk to you?

I didn't say that either.

What think you

of Master Hobart?

I like his clothes.

Would you like

to know a secret?

He's asked for my hand.

Well, it's only

to be expected.

I've noticed him handling it

at every opportunity.

It should make your father

very pleased.

Whatever put that

in your head?

That which puts things

in most people's heads observation.

Then you've been

observing me with him.

- Yes.

- Were you not jealous?

Jealous? One has to be

in love to be jealous.

You haven't

answered my question.

Nor do I intend to.

Please, Mistress Isabel.

Answer me!

Are you jealous?

You lout.

You impertinent, unruly clod.

Of course I'm jealous,

you little fool.

I'm jealous of anyone who touches you

or even looks at you.

I'm jealous of that idiot Hobart,

of your Father, of even

even the house servants.

I'm jealous of anyone

who can be near you.

Now have I answered you?

- Where have you been?

- The mare had a shoe loose, Your Worship.

- She would have thrown it at the first fence.

- Huh.

- Well, assist His Lordship to mount.

- Yes, Your Worship.

You clumsy fool!

My apologies, milord.

A beautiful evening,

Mistress Isabel.

- Ben.

- Sir Benjamin.

What are you doing here?

Dancing.

But my father

You must be mad.

It's quite possible.

Follow me.

- You shouldn't have done this, Ben.

- I had to.

You looked so lovely,

I couldn't keep away.

- You're a fool, darling.

- Darling?

Only a slip of the tongue.

What makes you so confident

I won't call my father?

- Because you love me.

- Do I?

For all you know, I may be

just amusing myself. Just

- Ben.

- Even in jest, you mustn't

say things like that, Isabel.

Tell me that

you love me.

Say it.

- Say it.

- I love you, Ben.

I do love you.

That's what I had to hear

before I go.

That's what I had

to take with me.

- Before you go?

- Yes, I'm leaving tonight.

But you can't.

I don't want you to go now.

- Isn't this enough? Isn't it?

- No.

I want my birthright.

I want Breetholm.

Don't you see, darling? It's It's being here

and yet not having what is mine...

being near you and not being

able to be with you always.

I want all the worid

to know that I love you.

Just wait for me, Isabel.

Wait? I

I don't understand.

You will one day,

when you are my wife.

Promise me that too.

- Ben.

- Yes?

When you find the way to become

master of Breetholm

I'll find it.

You'll find the way

to make me your wife.

Go into the house.

Come with me.

Light the lantern.

I intend to teach you

a lesson, Ben.

You're hot-blooded, and you will find trouble

as long as you live.

I mean to teach you

how to handle yourself

the manly art

of self-defense

so in the future you will always be able

to give as well as take.

Have you ever fought

with your fists, Ben?

- Yes.

- I don't mean vulgar scuffling in the stables.

- I mean according to the rules of the prize ring.

- No, sir.

Take off your coat,

and your education will begin.

Your first lesson

Never be taken unawares.

Call yourself a Blake,

will you?

Pose as a gentleman,

will you?

Open the door.! Open the door.!

Open the door.!

Open the door.!

Open the door.!

Open the door.!

Stop!

For mercy's sake, stop!

Why are you

doing this for me?

Ben, I have no right

to tell you this.

After all,

he is my husband.

But I am sure, as sure as we hope for salvation,

that he's robbed you...

that Breetholm

is rightfully yours.

I have no proof, Ben,

except what is in my heart...

and what I remember

of your father.

But proof there must be,

and someday you'll find it.

And when you do, I want you

to know that I will help you.

Why?

Because, had my prayers

been answered...

you would have been my son.

Here's the clothes you wrote for.

And a fine bargain I made.

- Have you news of a ship?

- There's one out of Bristol tomorrow...

- for Portagee Brazil and Spice Islands.

- A merchantman?

Aye. A brig of nigh 200 ton.

Her name the Tropic Star.

But you'll be

weak to try it, Ben.

How weak

do you think I am?

He walks feeble,

but he don't stand feeble.

Look.

I let him think

I wasn't as well as I am.

Remember what

your grandpa said.

You was only to run for last ship when flesh

and blood can stand no more.

- You speak for my grandfather, Pale Tom?

- Aye.

- Will you listen for him too?

- Aye.

Flesh and blood

can stand no more.

- What is it, Ben?

- My business is with him.

What business, Ben?

I must know. Is it killing?

- Not unless he tries it first.

- Oh, Ben, I beg of you.

If you so much as touch him,

he can have you hanged.

- I know that.

- Is it worth throwing your whole life away?

Till this matter is settled,

my life means very little.

He keeps a pistol

in the table drawer by his bed.

Is this what

you're looking for?

If you put that away,

I'll fight you fair.

You really think I'd soil

my hands on a stable boy?

You were ready enough to soil

them when I couldn't hit back.

I've been very patient

with you, Ben...

but I'm afraid

it's hopeless.

I've done everything in my power to help you

find yourself. Apparently I've failed.

You've broken in here and threatened me,

your master, with assault.

It's jail for you,

my lad.

A few years in Bristol Newgate

should teach you your place.

Come in.

Well, come in, you fool!

The window, you fool.!

Light the candles.!

Open!

Open!

Has thy grandson been here?

Put out the candle.

Sit over there.

He's coming.

Are they after you?

Follow me. Listen.

Mind the tap, will you?

You'll be safe here, sir.

But you'll go to jail

if they find me with you.

I was born in jail.

Open, in the king's name.!

Oh, go away, will you?

- Open the door.!

- Be quiet, for the love of mercy.

I've got a gentleman here.

Does he want

the whole street to hear?

Gentleman?

We're looking for a rogue.

Well, look somewhere else.

You're frightening

my gentleman.

All right, doxie.

This is all I have.

- I don't want it.

- Take it. I have work for you.

What can I do, sir?

Can you learn the exact whereabouts

of the brig Tropic Star...

and the true hour

she'll sail?

There are sailors who will

tell me more than that.

- Do you know the gunsmithery

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