Welcome to the Hall, Sir Richard.
(Girl) Why is the new Sir Matthew's face such a funny colour?
Not Sir Matthew, child, Sir Richard.
New squire, new name.
- He ain't pale enough for a lord. - (Man) He's been in Italy.
(Woman) The new Sir Matthew has no lady.
(Woman #2) Sir Richard. No lady with him, but somewhere he has.
Sir Richard.
- Sir Richard. - Sir Richard.
Your late uncle, sir.
Old benefactor.
Thank you, sir, for failing to wed a wife,
but I shall not be so prodigal a nephew.
His uncle, Master of Castringham before him, the great Sir Matthew.
(Sir Richard) Uncle to uncle.
I trust the descent shall be more direct from now.
So do we all devoutly hope, Sir Richard, sir.
Soon you shall be taking your instructions from the Lady Augusta.
Aye, sir. A new mistress. Please, God.
(Sir Richard) "Dearest, so here I am,
"possessed at last of my inheritance."
(Whispering echoes) 'Sir Matthew... Sir Matthew...
(Ghostly voice) 'Sir Matthew...
'Sir Matthew...
'In this dread matter, we...entreat thee.'
Squire.
Sheep under cover of a night?
This may be England, but it is far from winter yet.
- For their protection. - Protection?
You'll tell me in Castringham you have wolves next.
From the sickness, sir.
Once, they thrived.
Dr Croome.
Pray do not let me disturb you, Sir Richard.
You do not disturb me, sir.
You shall bequeath an Italian palace where you found an English house.
I'm resolved to make of myself a pestilent innovator.
Pestilent, Sir Richard?
Please God, not.
One intention, however, I have,
which you shall approve of...
a new pew for Castringham church.
For myself, the future Lady Fell...
...and for that progeny with which we pray God shall be pleased to bless us.
A new family pew.
An earnest of hope, Sir Richard, but I fear it cannot be altogether
as you have it to the south of the nave without disturbing hallowed ground.
(Sir Richard) To the north.
If the graves to the north side be unhallowed...
Not that I remember observing any so close to the present wall...
There is one.
Would the Church object to my disturbing it?
The Church would not object.
Well, then...
...the lady has to die.
Shalt thou exercise, Sir Matthew, thy prerogative,
and the lady in question be spared the cruel rope?
Masters,
no joy to me to see about the hanging of any.
But the lady in question has been found a witch.
The law is the law, my sheriff's duty is my sheriff's duty.
The lady has to die.
Die, Sir Richard? The lady die?
I said nothing of die, I say the lady in question must be removed.
But when did I say it was a woman in the grave?
You must have done.
Mothersole.
Strange name.
The farmers of that time paid for the stone,
that she lie not nameless in the earth.
Well, well.
Well, well, it is my wife-to-be must take possession of this plot from now.
To worship and not to rot.
And that progeny, which we shall pray for.
The dead are dead.
Aye.
(Sir Richard) Dearest...
You find me laying to rest the great unread.
Urgh, Polyaenus?
Psalms of who?
Richard... "The Adventures Of Tom Jones"?
Don't misbehave in Paris. You are there to buy your trousseau.
What need have I to misbehave?
Hurry back.
The date is burned on my heart.
(Echoes of baby crying)
Sir? Sir?
Sir!
(Sir Matthew's voice) 'Good morrow, Mistress Mothersole.'
(Drumming)
(Man) Sir Matthew?
I am Sir Matthew, yes. Aye.
I know you, who you are,
but your search in Castringham, I assure you,
shall be vain, Witchfinder, sir.
So far as...ye know, sir.
(Woman) 'Richard?
'Richard?
'You did not answer my letter.'
(Echoes of woman humming)
(Echoes of twigs snapping)
Now we have here, now we see here,
Mistress Mothersole.
(Humming stops)
(Sir Richard) 'Now we see you in your night shape.
'The night hare.
'We shall pursue you to your house.
'We shall prevent ye there.'
Mistress'. Mistress'.
(Dogs barking)
Mistress'.
No wonder, Lady Mothersole, ye cannot answer'.
You sport in the moonlight, still in your night shape.
Two four-leg sloth, two hind legs long.
(Mothersole) Sir Matthew...
Sir Matthew, what can be the matter?
Is someone sick at the house?
Madam, I am confounded.
I... Lady, I...
Richard? Dickon?
Dickon'.
I am confounded.
You are in a fit state to discuss these?
Surely, Liam, that is why you have come.
Yes, yes, Liam, surely.
Your extension to the church, I foresee no difficulty there.
Oh, I understand an exhumation will be necessary.
But that is not an exercise for me.
I do, however, have a question about this Greek temple you propose for...
Roman temple.
Roman, a facsimile of the sibyl's temple.
Roman, yes, but in the Greek manner, you will allow me that.
Though these columns as you have them are not so much Doric as, er...
(Echoes of woman sobbing)
Richard, how is Augusta?
(Echoes of weeping)
Mistress Mothersole,
I cannot believe it.
But what I saw ye do, that I saw.
And that have I had to testify.
I can scarce believe it.
But what I have seen, I have seen.
Dickon...
Should I not leave?
Come back tomorrow, for example, when you're more yourself?
Leave?
Why?
I was saying, you neglected to answer,
how is the Lady Augusta?
She writes.
I'm surprised you have not cut this down.
You should never persuade any of my father's flock in Kilkenny
to sleep in a house with such a tree.
They will insist there, an ash so near drains all the goodness out of it.
I'm thinking rather what its root must be doing to your foundations.
- That must be my room. - What?
My present room, I have grown most discontented with it.
The chimney smokes so...
In it, I have not slept well.
- But you have rooms to choose from. - No, I have looked.
The view from one will become displeasing to me.
Outside another, there would always be servants passing.
Another faces the East, the rising sun would wake me.
But Dickon was always up with the sun.
Why did Mrs Chiddock not mention this room?
Because it has not been slept in, sir, nor so much as opened,
neither door nor window, sir, I believe, since long before my time.
After all, it is the room in which the great Sir Matthew died, not that I...
(Sir Richard) Yes...
Yes.
Cut it down'.
(Drumming in the distance)
(Priest) Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live,
and is full of misery.
He cometh up and is cut down like a flower.
He fleeth as it were a shadow.
And never continueth in one stay.
In the midst of life, we are in death.
(Piercing screaming)
Of whom may we seek for succour but of thee, O Lord?
Who for our sins are justly displeased.
Yet, O Lord God, most holy, O Lord most mighty,
O holy and most merciful saviour,
deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.
Good sirs,
what I have seen, I have seen.
(Drum roll)
(Priest) The Lord is my shepherd, therefore can I lack nothing.
He shall convert my soul
and bring me forth in the paths of righeousness for his namesake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...
- Croome... - I will...
O, Mistress Mothersole,
thinkst thou I account this a joy thus to dispatch thee from this world?
World?
What world?
Why, this life.
Life?
There is but one world.
And what life can there be once that be...
Mine shall inherit'.
And no sweet babes...
...shall now mine be.
(Drum roll)
(Horse whinnies)
Sir Matthew...
If we had thought to move the lady without disturbing her,
I fear we have not achieved that.
We have not moved her at all.
Fell.
Where is she?
Dr Croome, of what did the great Sir Matthew die?
No man knows.
Found dead in his chair by his bed.
Dead and black.
Disordered.
Some poison, though no trace what.
Nor how.
The Popish Plot, they said.
I had tried to close his eyes.
At the moment of touching his dead eyelids,
there began in my hands such a violent smarting.
For six weeks after, my arms were so swollen.
The women who laid him out, the same.
The hanging of Anne Mothersole preyed much upon his mind.
He had done what he must, yet her death,
that of the other unfortunates also, but she especially,
preyed upon him.
He confessed he had in his distress
sought an unorthodox guidance: sortilege.
Eyes shut to open a Bible at random.
- Place one's blind finger on the page. - And whatever words...
He had so happened upon three texts: one from Isaiah, one from Luke, Job.
It shall never be inhabited, cut it down.
Her young ones also succour blood.
Yes, just such a night.
That night we last spoke.
I fancy a re-encounter is not now far off.
We had walked, as you and I have, to part before his door,
our separate ways.
Sir Matthew, what is that that runs up and down the stem of the ash?
It is never a squirrel.
A trick of the moon.
The old prophet gave at least one piece of sound advice.
Cut it down, eh?
I think, after all, I shall take axe and saw to it.
Goodnight, sir.
(Woman humming)
(Baby crying)
(Baby cries echo)
'Thou shalt seek me in the morning, and I shall not be.'
(Baby cries)
(Rustling)
(Muffled baby's cries)
(Mothersole) Mine shall inherit'.
- (Knock at door) - (Woman) Sir Richard?
- (Knocking) - (Woman) Sir Richard'.
(Door opens)
(Muffled baby's cries)
(Furtive rustling)
(Baby's cries intensify)
(Man) The ash tree's on fire'.
(Baby cries out)
(Man) The ash tree's on fire'.
(Woman) The ash tree's on fire'. (Man) Water'. Water'.
(Woman) Faster'.
(Frantic shouting)
(Baby crying)
(Gasps)