Vanity Fair Page #4

Miss Sharp.

Come and take over from Rawdon.

He's worse than useless.

Ah, 'tis true.

This is not my game.

Osborne, would you care to come

and play something a little more grown up?

Bye!

Do thank

Miss Crawley for us!

Crawley. Miss Sharp.

Are you cross with me?

Cross? I could kiss you.

To see George Osborne fleeced

makes the perfect end to the perfect day.

Oh, dear!

I was rather hoping

the evening wasn't over yet.

Oh?

I was wondering...

if you might like to

show me your room.

Of course.

I'll run and ask

Miss Crawley's permission.

Don't joke.

Really, Captain.

You cannot imagine I would do anything

to incur your aunt's displeasure.

I thought you and I

had an understanding.

Well, I understand this.

Two men and two men only

will enter my bed chamber...

my husband and the doctor.

You know my heart, Becky.

You know

I'd do anything for you.

I'm flattered.

But Aunt Tilly's

views on these things

came out of the Ark.

That's not how she sounds.

Oh, don't be deceived.

She talks like Oliver Cromwell

but thinks like Charles I,

and, believe me,

it's an outside wager

she'll ever change her mind.

It's lucky, then, Captain,

that you're a gambling man...

and no stranger

to taking a chance.

"Dearest Becky, a letter from Jos

arrived from India this morning...

filled with regrets

about a certain person."

Has Miss Sharp

taken to Mayfair?

She seems quite at home

in her new life.

I do not doubt it.

I had thought her

a mere social climber.

I see now

she's a mountaineer.

"I should tell him, dear Becky,

"he has missed his chance

for his goddess has acquired

other suitors.

Your loving friend,

Amelia Sedley. '"

Aahhh.

This one's for you.

It's from Mr. Pitt.

Read it.

"Dear Aunt,

I have both happy

and sad news to relay.

"The good news

is that I'm married.

LadyJane Sheepshanks has done me

the honor of becoming my wife."

Well, no great surprise there.

Well, she's a nice enough girl.

Although, I don't envy him

his mother-in-law.

What's the bad news?

"I am sorry to tell you

that my stepmother, Lady Crawley,

has gone to a better place."

After Queen's Crawley,

almost anywhere's a better place.

Come on!

The best thing for you, my girl,

would be...

No, no. Too strict.

Hmm. Thank you.

Madam,

would you consider, um...

Good gracious!

Here's Sir Pitt!

Oh, my dear, l-l-I can't see him.

My mood,

my nerves won't stand it.

- Go away.!

- Yes, Sir Pitt.

Ah, good.!

It's-It's not Miss Crawley

I want to see, it's you.

You have to come back

to Queen's Crawley.

You've heard my news?

Only just now.

I'm very sorry.

If there's anything I can do...

There is. There's plenty for you to do.

Everything's wrong since you left.

You must come back!

Well...

Marry me!

Come back as Lady Crawley,

if you like.

But do come back!

What? Oh!

- Don't leave me down here forever.

- Oh, Sir Pitt.

I can't.

Can't or won't?

Wouldn't you like to be

an old man's darling?

No, Sir Pitt, I really can't.

The truth is, I'm married already.

Married?

Oh well, it was worth a try.

Well, what a chance is lost!

Never mind, my dear,

we'll set him up,

won't we, brother?

I'll buy him a shop

or commission a portrait.

Whoever he is, he and his family

are very lucky to have you.

- I hope you think so.

- Indeed I do.

Then if you cannot take me

for a wife and sister,

will you not love me

as daughter and niece?

What?

Dear Sir Pitt,

dearest Miss Crawley, it's true.

I've married Rawdon.

Rawdon!

My... Rawdon?

Coal!

Pick 'em up, boy.

Look after her, Firkin.

Poor, dear Miss Crawley.

I do worry so.

Don't waste your syrup

on me, Miss Sharp.

Just get back in the knife box

where you belong.

Are you all right, Miss?

I will be if you're going past Baker Street.

Would that be proper, Miss?

More proper than

standing here in the street.

Now give us a hand

with the trunk.

You...

We'll be in Queer Street

if she don't come round.

I'd rather be in Queer Street with you

than Park Lane with any other.

But, Rawdon, she will come round.

She said herself, she'd love you to elope.

It's all talk, you know.

She loves romance in her novels,

but not in her family.

Where they're concerned,

she's as snobbish as Queen Charlotte.

Well, then...

We'll have to send

an ambassador to plead our case.

Oh, yes?

Mm.

What kind of ambassador

would that be?

I'd say a very little one,

with rosy cheeks and blue eyes,

and probably not too much hair.

What?

You mean...

Oh, you brilliant, darling girl.

Well, that will mend fences

if nothing else will.

Oh, Becky!

When one thinks of how she tended you.

And all the time...

Oh, I should have guessed that

nobody does anything for nothing.

But for a pauper's daughter,

a penniless governess,

to make off with my Rawdon.

Ohh.

Oh, dear.

Oh, at least her mother was a Montmorency.

I suppose we must cling to that.

Not a bit of it. I have it

on the best authority.

Her mother was an opera girl

in the chorus at Montmartre!

- What?

- I have it on the best authority.

Yes, yes, yes! All right!

Oh, very well. I know what I must do.

Would you be so kind

as to bring my little desk here?

Certainly. Where is it?

Where's her little desk? I can't see it.

It's over here.

- I almost feel sorry for poor Rawdon.

- Mm...

But I cannot let that girl

profit from her scheming.

Nor should you.

I'm glad to see that

you've changed your opinions.

Firkin.

Do you remember when

you told us all at Queen's Crawley...

That you adored imprudent marriages?

Not in real life.

What do you want?

Time, Osborne, that's what I want.

I owe you nothing.!

I will give you nothing.!

You owe me friendship.!

You have no friendship

coming from me, sir.!

Oh!

Do we have enough of this china?

It's to be a buffet and I don't

want to risk the Crown Derby.

Oh, listen to this.

"Emperor Napoleon Escapes

from Elba and Marches on Paris.

Allies Prepare for War. '"

- Amelia, what's the matter, dear?

- Will it affect George?

Well, he's a soldier, isn't he,

for all his swagger,

and there's more to soldiering

than gold braid and regimental dinners.

Amelia?

Amelia!

Oh!

If she means to be a soldier's wife,

she must learn to bear such things.

Now, I've been thinking about...

I must tell you.

I can put it off no longer.

We're ruined, Mary. Lost.

Everything is gone.

But we're giving a soiree.

There'll be no more soirees

or balls or dinners either.

That life, finished for us.

Oh, my God!

The debt that finished me, the man

who tipped me into the abyss,

is none other than

George's father, John Osborne.

By order of the trustees of the Sedley

Estate, this auction will now commence.

Lot 368, an inlaid ebony writing desk.

Shall we say... four guineas? Five?

Any more? Come on.

Going, going...

Sold.

Lot 369.

A Clemency

Drawing Room Piano.

I sang to that.

Would you like it?

We will start at three guineas.

Four?

- Five.

- Five at the back.

- Six.

- It's Captain Dobbin.

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