Vanity Fair Page #8
It is my challenge.
I've watched you in the lists.
I wish you luck.
It will not be easy.
Of course, it's the women
who keep the doors of society closed.
They do not like outsiders to discover
that there's nothing behind them.
Should you like to come
to Gaunt House?
Very much, my lord.
You will be bored there.
My wife is as gay as Lady Macbeth...
and my daughters-in-law
as cheerful as Goneril and Regan.
They will bully you and snub you
and patronize you.
But that's what you want, I suppose.
It is.
You should take this.
You don't want him
back tomorrow.
You're playing with fire, Becky.
Dearest, be reasonable.
You can pander all you like
to the great and the good.
We're not their type,
never will be.
Of course we are.
You have the best blood in England
in your veins if only you'd use it.
You know,
Lord Steyne's planning a dinner
next week with the Minister of War.
He promises to talk
of nothing but you.
The cards are in your hand, darling.
Must I show you how to play them?
So now you are to instruct me
in games of chance?
I just want you to think
on the winnings.
Oh, I know what we have to win.
I'm just afraid of what we might lose.
You're taking favors
from a tiger, Becky.
I'm not afraid.
Keep your eyes open.
Come with me
And we will go
Must I repeat myself?
You will write a card to
Colonel and Mrs. Crawley.
But Blanche writes them.
Not this time, I don't.
Lady Steyne, I cannot believe...
that I am compelled
to issue a request three times.
I will write it.
Then I will not be present.
I will go home.
Good! Stay there!
Let me be free of
your damned tragedy airs.!
Who are you to give orders?
You're here to have children
and you're barren!
My son is sick of you.!
There's no one in the house
that doesn't wish you dead.!
Besides, what's the matter
with Mrs. Crawley?
She's not well born, it's true,
but she's no worse than
Fanny's illustrious ancestor,
the first de la Jones.
- The money I brought to this family, sir...
- Purchased my second son as a husband...
whom the whole world
knows is mad.
Enough.
This is my house.
If I invite the trash from every prison
and brothel in London,
you will receive them
and you'll make them welcome.
Remember. You have no friends
beyond this door.
Lady Bareacres, what did you
make of the new Figaro?
I thought it was quite interesting.
I hear you sing
and play beautifully,
Mrs. Crawley.
I wish you'd sing for me.
It would be my pleasure.
What are you doing?
I've seen enough cruelty
in this house to want to inflict it.
"Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal."
Now sleeps the crimson petal
Now the white
Nor waves the cypress
in the palace walk
Nor winks the gold fin
The firefly wakens
Waken thou with me
Now droops the milkwhite peacock
Like a ghost
And like a ghost
she glimmers on to me
Now lies the Earth
all Danae to the stars
And all thy heart lies open unto me
Now folds the lily
all her sweetness up
And slips into the bosom of the lake
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou
And slip
Into my bosom
And be lost
In me
Bravo. Bravo.
You are through the door.
That boy of yours,
when does he go away to school?
Oh, when he's older, I suppose.
No, no. He must learn to stand
on his own two feet at once.
Miss that lesson in childhood
and you'll miss it all your life.
Well, I'm not sure Rawdon
could spare him yet.
And he's very spirited.
I shall arrange it.
No need to thank me.
Perhaps then we could
see a little more of each other.
Aren't you forgetting my husband?
I never forget anything,
Mrs. Crawley.
Least of all an unpaid debt.
She hasn't been at all well, has she?
Must I go?
Must I really?
Can't I stay
if I promise to be good?
It won't be for long, old chap.
Yes, it will.
Come here.
It's time, darling.
Bye.
Tonight, Lord Steyne will unveil
his mystery performance...
directed by himself
and performed by the Duchess of Lancaster,
the Countess of Slingstone
and other great ladies
ofhis lordship's acquaintance.
Your Majesty, my lords,
ladies and gentlemen, please be seated.
The entertainment is about to begin.
What has Steyne got planned,
Lady Steyne?
I wish I knew.
Extraordinary.
- Steyne the Pasha and his nautch girls.
- I give you the ballet Zirnana.
It's Mrs. Crawley.
Well done, all.
Bravo.! Bravo.!
Extraordinary.
- Yes.
- Bravo.!
Ah, Mrs. Crawley.
To the victor the spoils.
You have carried off
our hearts in triumph.
If that is so, Your Majesty,
then you may rest easy
that your heart will be
well looked after.
That is a relief, for it has been
bruised in its time.
You must tell me at dinner
how you mean to treat it.
You will sit next to me.
Precedence would make that
a little difficult, sir.
I am the King, Lady Gaunt.
I confer precedence.
Well, are you happy?
I said that I would make you
queen of the night and I have.
I'm certainly grateful, my lord.
But not happy?
Well, which of us is happy?
Not you? Surely you take
pleasure in your pictures.
Yes.
I can hide behind them.
You, my lord, hide from what?
From the simple truth that is known
to every shepherd and footman...
that the only thing of value
in this life is to love...
and be loved.
I've hidden from it because
I didn't think that I would ever find it.
Now I believe I have.
You jest with me, my lord.
I make a poor companion with
the splendors that surround you.
The chief advantage
of being born into society...
is that one learns early
what a tawdry puppet play it is.
You remember the child
who set a high price on this picture...
before she could bear to see it go?
Not high enough.
The trouble is, Mrs. Crawley,
you've taken the goods.
It's too late to query the price.
Colonel Crawley.
May I walk with you?
By all means, Wenham.
Good evening, Colonel.
Oh, Lord!
It's a small thing, Colonel.
165 you owe Mr. Nathan.
For God's sake, Wenham, lend me 100.
I have 70 at home.
I'm sorry. I don't have 10
in the whole world,
my dear fellow.
Don't worry.
Mr. Moss will take good care
of you, won't you, Mr. Moss?
I run the most comfortable
debtor's prison in London.
Come on.
Unhand me!
Good night.
You sure I can't get
you anything, Colonel?
My wife will be here
at any moment.
If you say so, sir.
Ring the bell when you
want something.
- You did deliver my letter, yes?
- I delivered it myself, sir.
Is there no one else
I might call on?
My brother, I suppose.
But I hardly like to trouble him
when I know that Becky will be
on her way before too long.
Even so, sir.
Poor Rawdon. He's in prison.
I know.
I'll send my man Wenham
with the bail tomorrow.
One night won't kill him.
Heaven knows
he's on familiar territory.
Oh, Becky. Thank God.
It is I, Rawdon. It's Jane.
When your note came, I read it.
I've paid Mr. Moss.
This is no place for a woman like you.
You should not have come here.
I'm not worth it.
Yes, you are.
You are worth it.
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"Vanity Fair" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/vanity_fair_22742>.
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