The Possession Page #11

ASH:

Forgive this boldness. What I do

not know is... whether you wish to

travel as my wife. It is a large

step -

(CONTINUED)

59.

CONTINUED:

CHRISTABEL:

I want to be with you. I am quite

happy to be called your wife. That

is what I had understood I -- we -had

decided.

ASH:

You must not regret this.

CHRISTABEL:

Of course I shall regret. So will

you, will you not? But that is of

no importance at this time.

Silence. Then from his pocket, a box: inside, a gold

signet ring.

ASH:

I hope you will accept this ring.

CHRISTABEL:

My resolution was as strong as

yours.

She produces her own ring, jade with initial "C." They

smile. Ash peels off her glove. He pushes his ring over

hers.

CHRISTABEL:

So... it is done.

Ash holds onto her hand. Suddenly with a WHOOSH of smoke

the TRAIN plunges into flickering darkness of a tunnel. Ash

presses her hand to his lips. Shards of sunlight flicker

like a kinematoscope on his face, Ash lets her fingers fall.

Then -- into light again -- Ash turns her leather glove in

his hands, smoothing its soft leather pockets back into

shape like a fetish. Staring at her.

EXT./INT. WHITBY HOTEL - DUSK (1859)

Late sun. A white hotel, perched on a cliff looking out to

sea. As if in a vivid dream -- Ash and Christabel dismount

from a horse-drawn carriage. The hotelier MRS. CAMMISH

organizes the baggage: hatboxes, trunks, collecting boxes,

nets, writing desks. Which are carried upstairs, as -- Ash

and Christabel go to a window. A view over cliffs, of grey

sea.

ASH:

There. The German sea. Like steel,

with life in it.

(CONTINUED)

60.

CONTINUED:

CHRISTABEL:

It reminds me of the Breton coast.

Which is in some sense my home.

It's so changeable. Blue and clear

one day, the next dark and wild.

ASH:

(awkwardly)

I -- we -- must go there too. There

are so many places. Even around

here. Such curious northern names.

Ugglebarnby. Jugger Howe. Howl

Moor -

CHRISTABEL:

On the map, I saw one. The Boggle

Hole.

She starts to laugh. Ash smiles too.

ASH:

The Boggle Hole...

(laughs too)

Do you like the sound of that? Then

we shall go there.

Ash says it agreeably. Christabel relaxes a little.

CHRISTABEL:

I should like that. Very much.

Outside, a wind blows in from the sea, as -

END OF FLASHBACK.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. WHITBY HOTEL, DINING ROOM - DUSK

outside a picture window, a tall TREE RUSTLES in the wind.

In a large Victorian room now with modern furniture --

Maud and Roland at a table, busy with piles of books and

notes. Map open beside Cropper's biography of Ash, Roland

jots down names... Boggle Hole.

ROLAND:

There's a place on the map, the

Boggle Hole. That's a nice word.

Maybe we could go -

(MORE)

(CONTINUED)

61.

CONTINUED:

ROLAND (CONT'D)

(off Maud deep

in her book)

Found anything?

MAUD:

(looking up)

I've been reading Ash's love poems.

Most love poetry is only talking to

itself. But Ash wasn't. I think he

was talking to her.

ROLAND:

To Ellen -

MAUD:

No, Christabel.

(beat)

I like them now.

ROLAND:

I'm glad you like something about

him.

MAUD:

I didn't say I didn't like Ash. I

only thought Christabel wouldn't

like him. I've been trying to

imagine him. Them.

ROLAND:

They must have been in an extreme

state. A moment of madness brought

them here, threw their lives up in

the air. Just like us!-

MAUD:

They were in love.

ROLAND:

Of course. Don't you envy them?

MAUD:

I don't know. We never say the word

love, do we. It's always sex. We

see it everywhere. We say we're

driven by desire, but we can't see

it as they did.

(CONTINUED)

62.

CONTINUED:

ROLAND:

Sometimes I feel that the best state

is to be without desire. I have

this image of a clean empty bed in a

clean empty room, where nothing is

asked or to be asked -

MAUD:

That's what I think about too, when

I'm alone. The same image. An

empty bed in an empty room. All

white.

ROLAND:

Exactly the same.

Outside, a gust of WIND RUSTLES LEAVES. Mrs. Cammish enters

with a tray, Maud presses her napkin to her lips, dabs her

mouth.

MAUD:

How strange.

Instinctively, Maud stares down at her napkin. In that

moment -

CLOSEUP:

ON the imprint of her lipstick -

CUT TO:

FLASHBACK - INT. WHITBY HOTEL - DINING ROOM - DUSK

(1859)

Christabel lowers her napkin politely, stares back at Ash

seated opposite. As a 19th Century Mrs. Cammish fusses at

the table. Now a private dining suite, decorated in

Victorian damask finery.

MRS. CAMMISH

Your lady wife is looking a bit

peaky, sir. Not eating her food?

ASH:

Soup. Boiled hake and potatoes.

Cutlets and peas. Arrowroot molds

and treacle tart. We have dined

well, Mrs. Cammish.

(CONTINUED)

63.

CONTINUED:

MRS. CAMMISH

A spot of sea air. That's the tonic

for your wife, sir. I can tell,

she's a chilly mortal --

Mrs. Cammish breezily removes her tray, exits. Christabel

smiles politely, as Ash takes out a thin cigarillo from a

silver case.

ASH:

Mrs. Cammish is right. You must

enjoy the sea air.

CHRISTABEL:

Perhaps it is considered a wifely

pursuit. I think Mrs. Cammish

considers me lacking in wifely

virtues.

Ash lights the cigarillo, takes a lung-full of smoke.

ASH:

I care not for such wifely virtue.

(beat)

Will you go up first, my dear?

Christabel stands up, strained but mocking. She smiles.

CHRISTABEL:

If you wish, my dear...

Christabel takes a lit candle, exits. Ash walks to the

window. Enjoys his cigar smoke curling in front of him, the

CRASH of the SEA below, as Mrs. Cammish reappears.

ASH:

Do you have a cognac?

MRS. CAMMISH

Nothing French in this house, sir.

ASH:

Quite so.

(to himself, beneath

his breath)

`Le degout, c'est voir juste. Apres

la possession, l'amour voit juste

chez les hommes...' -- Balzac.

MRS. CAMMISH

No cognac, and no Balzac, neither,

sir.

(CONTINUED)

64.

CONTINUED:

ASH:

(beat)

Good night, Mrs. Cammish.

Mrs. Cammish exits. Ash blows a last puff of cigar smoke,

then -

INT. WHITBY HOTEL - HALLWAY AND STAIRS - NIGHT (1859)

Ash walks down a dark hall, past towering plants, elaborate

mosaics, to the stairs. Maids dutifully wax wood, shine

brass.

ASH (V.O.)

`Dear Ellen... Today I made a

curious geological discovery...

Ash mounts stairs, footsteps muffled by carpet. He nears

the top, on his face -- dread and wonder. Ash walks down

the corridor.

ASH (V.O.)

`... Adornments may be made here

from ancient ammoniate fossils,

creatures long dead but not

vanished. They are jet black, with

a special silver lustre. In this

very marvel of science, I now see a

perfect miracle...'

Two chambermaids walk past Ash, curtseying. Ash stubs out

his cigarillo on a brass ashtray. He stands in front of the

room, then opens the door -

INT. WHITBY HOTEL - BEDROOM - NIGHT (1859)

Ash enters a dark, candle-lit room. On a chair sits a -

Crinoline petticoat like a collapsed cage, all steel hoops

and straps. To one side, a brass bed: Where Christabel

stands, her back to him, arms on the rails, in a corset.

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