What A Girl Wants Page #2

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l'm not getting married for five weeks.

Until then we have|to keep up appearances.

Look what happened to Olivia Dixon|when she went to China.

-Who's Olivia Dixon?|-Exactly.

-Did you see that?|-What?

An impossibly large bird|falling off that wall.

Are you hallucinating?

These eggs are positively glacial.

When l run this house, senile servants|will be the first thing to go.

You'd have to get around the old bat.|She'd never allow it.

Anyone seen my pruning shears?

The old bat seems to have forgotten|where she put them.

Morning. Morning, Mother.|Morning, darling.

Everyone sleep well?

Apparently not.

There's someone at the window.|l'm not hallucinating.

lt's those bloody paparazzi again.

Percy, call the police.|l will not tolerate this media circus!

-Where do you think you're going?|-lt's you!

How long do you people have to spy|before realizing there's no story?

-You've got the wrong idea.|-Tell it to the authorities.

The real scandal is how young|they're starting you guttersnipes now.

You sit down and tell me who sent you.|The Sun? The Daily Star?

Good heavens, you can't be|more than 1 7.

Go on, take your picture and go away.

-l already have a picture of you.|-What's going on?

-Where the devil did you get this?|-From Libby.

-That singer you met on a camel?|-Why would Libby give this to you?

She thought l'd want to know|what my father looked like.

My name is Daphne Reynolds.|l'm Libby's daughter.

According to this...

...l'm your daughter too.

Oh, for heaven's sake!

Seems you had an even better time|in Morocco than you let on.

Oh, dear God.

l haven't--

No, this is impossible.

-Must be a mistake.|-Exactly, a mistake.

This doesn't prove anything.

This Libby must have written down|the first man she could think of.

You're the only man she's ever thought of.

Can l have a word with you in private|for a moment, please?

Henry?

You're not going to believe her, are you?

Maybe l....

Maybe l shouldn't have come.|This is a big shock for you.

l'm freaking out|and l've known since l was 2.

Don't get me wrong, l mean in a good way.|l've dreamt about this my whole life.

Not that exact entrance, of course.|l imagined something more graceful.

l can see now|that it was probably a mistake.

l shouldn't have come.

Sorry, did you just say you've known|about this your whole life?

-Yeah.|-Good. Now we've got that settled...

...how about some tea|and a piece of fruitcake?

Your mother didn't feel l deserved|the same consideration?

-No to the fruitcake, then.|-How could she keep this from me?!

What happened to the mistake theory|we were operating on a moment ago?

No, wait a minute, ducky.

Henry, l know this has come as a shock,|but we can't just let the girl go.

-Not until we've got to the bottom of this.|-Shall l call a hotel, madam?

And tell them what, exactly?

The best-known candidate in a generation|is requesting a room for a teenage girl?

-The press will have a field day.|-Can we leave the press out of this?

-No, Glynnis is absolutely right.|-Thank God someone else is thinking straight.

The girl must stay here, with us.

Darling, before we let this hypothetical|daughter blow your political career...

-...we might consider checking up on her.|-For what?

Criminal record? Blood type?|Triple sixes on her scalp?

Glynnis, she has a birth certificate,|she has my photograph and she has my eyes.

Only thinking of what's best for you.

l know you don't like thinking about it,|but the press can be brutal.

''Exclusive! Henry Dashwood|in Love Child Shocker!''

Actually, she's not strictly a love child.|Her mother and l were married.

l mean, not technically.|lt was a Bedouin ceremony in Morocco.

We planned to make it official|as soon as we got back...

...but for some reason Libby decided to....

Well, anyway, she left.

-Taking something of yours with her.|-Put a cork in it.

Maybe someone should have put|a cork in it 1 7 years ago!

Well, here we are.

Will it do?

Are you kidding? lt's incredible!|lt's bigger than our entire apartment...

...and the restaurant downstairs. lt makes|the White House look like a McDonald's.

l get the point. Now, why don't|l send Percy to fetch your things?

-Thank you so much, Lady Dashwood.|-No hugs, dear.

l'm British. We only show affection|to dogs and horses.

Right.

You rock!

Hello?

-Libby?|-Henry.

-ls she there? ls she all right?|-Yeah, she's here.

She's fine. Mother is force-feeding her|fruitcake as we speak.

How could you not tell me|l'd fathered a child?

You let her show up|1 7 years later, unannounced--

And what?|Put a dent in your political career?

-No, that's not--|-lf you're afraid of a scandal, send her back.

lt's not about scandal, it's finding out|l had a daughter for half my life!

Libby.

l didn't want her to get hurt.

-What is that supposed to mean?|-Ask your advisors.

They've gotten you this far, haven't they?

My point is that Henry's strength has|been that he's completely scandal-free...

...unlike his opponent.|This could ruin everything.

Have you finished stating the obvious?

Good. Then let me explain|what we're going to do.

We give the papers the story,|but we spin it our way.

Let's see what we have.

Yes, the Royal Dress Show.

lntroduce her as the daughter you've always|known, but rarely were able to be with.

The press still gets a story,|but it's cut off at the knees.

We are dealing with a living,|breathing 1 7-year-old girl.

The only thing we know is|that she's an American teenager.

Hardly a promising start.

Still, what do you think, Henry?|Liability or asset?

Well, l've only spent a few moments|with her myself...

...but my sense is that|she's quite mature for her age.

She seems well-mannered.

-Thanks, Percy!|-Your lunch, Miss Daphne.

l'd say rather self-contained, soft-spoken.

Perfect. Let's run with it.

Ah, me. Please be Armistead.

-Dashwood residence, Clarissa speaking.|-This is lan Wallace. ls Daphne there?

She's not here.

There's no one here by that name, actually.|Sorry.

lf you do happen to see her, could you|tell her lan Wallace is trying to find her?

Absolutely. l will.

Not.

-Daphne.|-Mr. Dashwood.

-Lord Dashwood?|-Call me Henry.

Henry. Okay.

-This is a cool room.|-Listen, l....

l was just wondering if....

l was wondering if.... Well, l don't know|if this would interest you, actually...

...but l was hoping you might accompany|me to the Royal Dress Show on Friday?

-Dress show?|-Yes, it's ass-numbingly dull.

Some people l have to impress|take it frightfully seriously.

ls it like a fashion show?

Gwyneth and Madonna go to those things,|right? Do you think they'd be there?

l have no idea what you're talking about,|but for me it's a stop on the campaign trail.

For Glynnis, it's a chance|to launch Clarissa on society.

Launch? You make her sound like a ship.

No, in Clarissa's case it's more like|an intercontinental ballistic missile.

She's what in the old days|might have been called a debutante.

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