01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

Our Father, which art in
heaven,

hallowed be thy name, thy
kingdom come,

thy will be done on earth.

Wait!

Helen, wait for me!

She must have been on
the moors

for days, weeks even.

Poor creature.

She looks so pale.

St. John found her just in time.

Who do you think she is?
Where did she come from?



Jane!

Jane!

I'm sorry to be such trouble.

You cannot remember your name?

Or your family?

Why don't we try to help?

We can tell you what we know.

Oh, yes!

We think you must have wandered
on the moors for many days.

Maybe weeks.

We do not know where you
traveled from.

With no money or support of
any kind.

So you see, you are a mystery.

We've made up our own story.

We think you are a young,
well-bred woman

who has run away from home
because of family disapproval.

Some romance.

Diana, not now!
All right, then.

We will not speculate yet.

But this is not the
hand of a working woman.

So you are a well-bred lady.

A governess?

A teacher of some kind?

You speak French.

Extremely well.

And you know geography.
Or you have traveled widely.

You talked of foreign places

as if you had felt their
heat, smelt their smells.

I have not traveled beyond
England.

How can you be sure if
you can't remember anything?

Hannah has washed your dress.

See here?

So JEL School, is that any help?

It might not have been her
dress.

I do not know what this means.

But I know that I am honest.

Diana!

It seems she does not
remember yet.

But surely we have conscience
enough

not to play games with her
identity.

Good Lord, miss!

You look like a ghost.

Here, sit down.

Though I think you're so faded

you might melt away with the
heat.

Careful!

I love the fire.

I think I must have been very
cold at one time in my life.

The misses will be angry with
me

if I don't get you back to bed.

I have spent long enough in
bed.

I must try to repay everyone's
kindness.

Do the young ladies live here
alone?

Since their father died.

Mr. St. John lives in his
parish over at Morton.

I don't know how long they'll
last here.

They haven't a penny between
them.

The girls will have to
go for governesses soon.

You have book learning, I
suppose?

So you could earn your
own living, if you chose.

I have done, and I will.

Just as soon as I can advertise.

Advertise!

Well, you are a surprising
little thing!

I'm glad you are up and about,

Miss Jane Elliot.

I believe, in the absence of
knowledge,

that my sisters have christened
you?

They think it suitable.

But is it your name?

No matter.

Jane Elliot it is.

My sisters would like to keep
you,

like a stray off the moor.

Do you intend to live off their
charity?

For they have very little to
spare.

Course not.

I wish to be put to work.

I will do anything honest.

But surely the cuckoos are
too fat

to fly thousands of miles.

They go somewhere.

Maybe to the corners of Europe.

You are full of information.

Not only do you know all
about European birds,

but South American birds,
Patagonian lizards.

Someone must have taught you.

Jane.

I've seen one like this in the
West Indies but never here.

See there?

Have you had an unpleasant
memory?

No, it was not unpleasant.

Good evening!
Good evening.

This must be the mysterious
Miss Elliot.

I'm Rosamond Oliver.

I live with my father at Vale
Hill.

Good evening, Mr. Rivers.

And good evening, Carlo.

Would I forget you?

Your dog is quicker to
recognize his friends

than you are, sir.

A lovely evening, Miss Oliver.

But a little late for you to be
out alone.

Papa says you never come to
see us now.

You are quite a stranger.

He is alone tonight and not
very well.

Won't you come back with me?

It is not a reasonable hour
to intrude on Mr. Oliver.

Reasonable hour?

But I declare it is!

It is just the hour when
Papa most needs company.

And you would not be intruding
because I have invited you.

Do come.

Poor Rosamond!
Honestly, St. John...

He is as inexorable as death!

She adores him.
And he adores her!

Is there some obstacle?

Her family?

No, her father adores him too!

He doesn't mind that
St. John is not wealthy?

No, it's St. John.

He's perverse!

He will not allow himself to
have her.

Oh, if only I were so in love.

We should embrace it.

It is a crime against
God to deny yourself love.

It should be the 11th
Commandment.



That these two persons
present now come to be joined.

Therefore if any man
can show any just cause

why they may not lawfully
be joined together

let him now speak,

or else hereafter forever hold
his peace.

Miss Elliot!

Are you feeling unwell?

I am quite well, thank you.

The church is well attended?

And we are lucky in our
benefactor.

Mr. Oliver.

You met his daughter, Miss
Rosamond.

He owns a needle factory in the
valley.

He's very generous.

Mr. Oliver, in fact, was the
inspiration

for the employment I have found
for you,

if, of course, you should wish
to take it.

When I first arrived in
Morton, there was no school.

The children of the poor
had no hope of progress.

I have established one for boys.

Now it is the turn of the girls.

There is a cottage
available, simply furnished.

The mistress's salary
will be 30 pounds a year.

Will you take the job?

I could organize the
studies as I wished?

No beatings and enough food for
dinner?

As long as you taught God's
word.

Then I accept.

With all my heart.

I do not think you will stay
here long.

I am not ambitious.

No, but you are impassioned.

Excuse the word.

I mean that, for you, human
affections and sympathies

have the most powerful hold.



You cannot hate me, Jane.

I didn't mean to deceive you.

Unlike you, I cannot live alone

without the warmth of human
companionship.

I roamed the world

then returning one night
to this cold, dark place

I saw this, this magical thing.

You were in my path.

Do you remember?

And since that moment,

I have never wanted to leave
the place that you were.

Though you left, I remained,

waiting for my little bird to
return.

We are one, you and I.

We have to be together.

We are like those twins,

so intertwined in their
senses and feelings

that they can cry out to one
another across continents,

so close are their thoughts.

Say that you don't love me.

I dare you.

You cannot.

I will not.

I will love you until I die.

And yet you will leave me?

You mean to go your way
and for me to go mine?

Yes, sir.

Sir again?

Not Edward?



It is a very graceful
and correct drawing.

Correct?

That word is a little
lacking in passion, isn't it?

I mean, for someone who
loves Miss Oliver as you do.

Would it comfort you, when
you're in Madagascar or the
Cape?

Or would the sight of her
distress you?

You are very direct, Miss
Elliot.

You must know me well enough

to know I mean no mischief or
disrespect.

She likes you, I am sure.

And so does her father.

She's a sweet girl, a
little lacking in reserve,

but you have more than enough
for both of you, surely.

Why do you not marry her?

Why do you resist her?

Does she like me?

She is always talking of you.

There is no other subject
she is more interested in.

It's very pleasant to talk
like this.

You may go on for another
quarter of an hour.

Well, what's the use of that?

When you are only planning
an even crueler way

to resist her.

St. John, you tremble when
she comes into the room!

You don't understand!

I love Rosamond Oliver wildly.

More intensely than I will
ever love anyone again.

So why not marry her?

Because I know she would
not make me a good wife.

We would have a lifetime's
regret.

Can you see Rosamond as
a sufferer, a laborer?

A missionary's wife?

No, you cannot.

You need not be a missionary.

You may do God's work here.

I will not give up my life's
ambition.

It's dearer to me than anything.

And Miss Oliver...

Are her feelings nothing to you?

She is surrounded by suitors.

She will forget me and marry
someone

who can make her far happier
than I could.

No, Jane!

You do not know me.

I do tremble at the sight of
Rosamond,

but it repulses me.

It has nothing to do with me.

My skin may burn with fever

but, in my heart, I am a cold
man.

Don't!

You have the chance to love
someone

who loves you with all her soul.

Not many people are that lucky.

You may never find that again.

You are an enterprising
young woman, Miss Elliot.

An unusual specimen.

You've made a good start.

I look forward to your
career with interest.



I must leave Thornfield, Mr.
Rochester.

Now...

do you mean that?

I do.

And now?

What do you say now?

You cannot leave me.

You cannot leave me, confess it.

I will.

I will leave you.

How can this flesh
be so soft and yielding

and yet your heart be like an
iron fist?

There is a place I know.

A villa in the Mediterranean.

It is far from anywhere.

Come and live with me there.

No, Jane.

Jane, Jane, listen to me.

Listen to me.

We would live as brother and
sister.

We would have our separate
chambers,

come together in the afternoons,

for tea, or to play bowls.

Something sedate and
traditional.

I give you my word.

I wouldn't touch you.

Maybe a chaste peck on
the cheek on birthdays.

I wouldn't tempt you
into a life of sin, Jane.

I wouldn't do that.

I must rest now.
Yes.

Yes, you must rest.

We
will talk in the morning.

Yes, in the morning.

You will think about the villa?

We'll
talk in the morning.



Whoa, boys!

Whoa, whoa!

Walk on.



Good afternoon,
Miss Elliot.

Is everything all right?
Yes, of course.

You look very well.

You have performed wonders
in this colorful universe.

You have given it discipline
and individuality.

I wish Diana or Mary could
come home to live with you.

You're reckless with your
health.

I am well enough.

Oh, forgive me.

One of the girls saw Miss
Oliver in her wedding dress

and the others begged me to
imagine a painting for them.

I told you she would forget
about me.

You must allow me to be right
sometimes.

Mr. Rivers, what are you
doing here?

I have often wondered

where you got that forthright
quality.

I've come to have a little talk
with you.

Or rather, I have a
story to share with you.

Just over 20 years ago, a
poor curate fell in love

with a rich man's daughter.

They married,

and she was cut off from
her family entirely.

Within two years they were both
dead.

They left a daughter.

She was cast out onto
the very cold charity

of an aunt by marriage.

Now we come to details.

A Mrs. Reed of Gateshead,

who kept the orphan 10 years

and then sent her to one Lowood
School.

I calculate she would have
been approximately your age.

It seems she did very well
there,

with qualities very similar to
your own.

And another coincidence,
she rose to be a teacher.

She left Lowood to become a
governess

to the ward of a Mr. Rochester.

Mr. Rivers--
I know nothing

of this Mr. Rochester's
character,

but I do know that he offered
marriage to this young woman,

but, at the altar,

she had discovered he
had a wife still living.

A lunatic.

For another quite different
reason,

one Mr. Briggs, a solicitor,

was searching for this young
lady,

but by then she had disappeared,
was never seen again.

Is that not very strange?

Since you appear to know
so much, tell me this.

Mr. Rochester, how is he?

Where is he?
I know nothing of him.

But you said they were
looking for me.

Did they write to Thornfield?

Yes, of course.

But received no reply.

He must have been a bad man.

You do not know him.

Very well.

But maybe you should ask me
how I come to know your story.

What inspired our Mr.
Briggs to look for you

and to write to me.

As you know, I traveled to
Derbyshire a few days ago.

I had dinner with a family
who had a housekeeper

who was related in some distant
way to a Mrs. Alice Fairfax.

Now she provided me with
such an exact description

of the mysterious Jane Eyre

to relieve me of any doubt.

Did they tell you
anything of Mr. Rochester?

I told you, Mr. Briggs
was not interested in him.

Don't you want to know why
he was interested in you?

What did he want?

Simply to tell you
that your uncle had died

and had left you all his
property and fortune.

Oh, I am sorry.
Sorry?

For 20,000 pounds?

I am sorry my uncle is dead.

I might have wished to
have seen him one day.

Wait, wait!

Why would you ever know
about this Mr. Briggs

and his search for me?

Why would he write to you?

There is more, but I fear
you've had too much surprise

for one evening.

I will tell you tomorrow.

You will tell me now.

He wrote to me because
your uncle was also my uncle.

I am your cousin.

Your half-cousin, that is.

Your mother was my father's
sister?

We are half-cousins?

Oh!

You are a strange young woman.

I tell you you've inherited a
fortune

and you are very serious.

I tell you something of little
importance

and you dance with excitement!

You have two sisters!

A mere half-cousin may be
of no importance to you,

but to me, I have no one.

I have never had anyone.




You are enjoying your German
lessons?

Yes, it is easier than French.

I want you to start
learning a new language.

We will begin tomorrow.



Go with you?

To the Cape?

To share my missionary work.

I've been watching you
for over a year now,

and I am convinced you
are equal to the task.

Have you never asked yourself
why God led you here?

On that evening, at the very
moment you were ready to die,

he led me through all this
wilderness to find you.

You have always felt you
must travel the world.

Jane, it is your destiny!

Six weeks.

We must make marriage
preparations.

Why can we not travel as
brother and sister, as equals?

That would be impossible.

St. John, you do not love me.

Love is not an
ingredient in this matter.

I fear you have not forgotten
your old association,

despite the harm he tried to do
you.

I will never see any of them
again.

But I owe a debt to my
friends at Thornfield Hall.

In many ways, I started my life
there.

I became Jane Eyre.

God made Jane Eyre!

You surely don't give this man
Rochester

any credit for that!

Of course not.

I have always known myself.

But he was the first to
recognize me

and to love what he saw.

I will give you your answer,
St. John, soon, don't worry.

And if I go with you,
it will be my decision.

You will have him to thank for
that.



Jane, Jane!



Jane!

Jane!

Jane!



Whoa-oa!

Walk on.

Aye, it's a pity, all
right.

Did you know Thornfield Hall?

Aye, Miss.

I used to work for the late Mr.
Rochester

in his stables.

He is dead?

I mean the present
Mr. Edward's father.

I'm guessing you're not
from these parts, Miss,

so you don't know what
happened a while or so back.

It was almost a year ago now.

Mr. Edwards had sent away
most of the servants,

so nobody knows exactly what
happened.



Bertha!

Bertha, come down.

Take my hand.

Bertha, it's not safe up here.

Will you take my hand?

Come, we'll go down together.

Will you take my hand?

Bertha, come down!

Bertha!

No!






Who's there?

Dammit.

Where are my candles?

Do you think because I'm
blind I don't need them?



What's the matter now?

Has Pilot gone mad like the
rest of us?

Well, man?

What's the matter?

George?

That is you, isn't it?

George is in the kitchen, sir.

Who is that?

Pilot knows me, sir.

These are Jane Eyre's fingers.

I'd know them anywhere.

It is Jane.

It is me, sir.

I'm come back.

You are real?

I dream of you often, and
in the morning, you're gone.

You always were a witch.

Does that seem real?
You always did torment me.

I am very real, sir.

I am an independent woman.

My uncle died and left me


but I gave most of it away.

No, I could never
have dreamt such detail.

You must stay with me?

I will stay with you as long
as I live.

Unless you would prefer I go.

No, no, stay!

You shall stay.

It's a ghastly sight, isn't it,
Jane?

I knew if you ever saw me again,

you would be revolted by me.

I am sorry for this.

And this.

And this...

But the worst of it is,

one's in danger of spoiling you
too much.

When do you have supper?

I never take supper.

Well, you shall tonight,
for I am very hungry.

Have you a pocket comb about
you, sir?

What for?

I need to comb out
this shaggy black mane.

I find you quite
alarming, when this close.

And you accuse me of being
supernatural.

Am I hideous, Jane?
Very, sir.

You always were, you know!



You haven't lost your
wickedness, wherever you've
been.

Yet I have been
staying with good people,

far better than you.



Altogether more refined and
exalted than you will ever be!

Who the devil have you been
with?

There.

You are decent, at least.

I will tell you about them
tomorrow.

I have been traveling
for days and I'm tired.

Goodnight.

Jane...

Were there only ladies at
the house where you were?

The grass is soft and
mossy in that little patch.

And the blackbird's wing is
like coal with an emerald sheen.

So this St. John person

you have been mentioning
so often, what of him?

Well, he is tall,

with blue eyes and a Grecian
profile.

He's handsome, then, compared
to me.

Oh, he's much more handsome
than you.

And he's a far better
Christian, of course,

than you ever were.

I thanked God last night,
for your sudden reappearance.

The other night, I cried
out to him in my despair.

I called your name, too.

What about his brain, this
Rivers fellow?

Find yourself getting
bored when he speaks?

He doesn't say very much,

but what he says is to the
point.

His brain is first rate.

Did he study much?

Taught you things?
Oh, yes.

He taught me languages.

All right.

Why did he do that?

He wanted me to go with him
to Africa.

He wanted you to marry him?

He asked me to marry him.
You're lying!

You've made this up to torment
me.

He asked me more than once.

Well, then, I think you
might take yourself off

and go elsewhere!

Why are you still here?

You've done your duty,

you've assured yourself
that I am still living.

Well, still living a tenth of a
life.

You, heiress!

Well, if you want me to go.

No.
I'll pack my bags.

No, no.

Humor a foolish old ranter

for a little bit longer before
you go.

St. John does not love me.

I do not love him.

He's good, great, even.

But severe, cold as an iceberg.

He's heartless?

Oh, worse than that.

He has a heart.

I have seen it overflowing with
passion,

but he just keeps it buried in
stone

with a tenacious willpower.

He is much more frightening
than you.

Hmm.

It's turned chilly.

We've been sitting here too
long.

No, I want to stay out here.

You can go on in, if you wish.

The night I left...

The night I left, you
told me of a villa you own

in the Mediterranean, where
we might go for refuge

and live as brother and sister.

I remember.

Jane.

Jane, are you still there?

I am here, sir.

Jane, that villa I
mentioned...

The separate bedrooms,

the peck on the cheek on
birthdays, that sort of thing...

Yes?

Well, that plan doesn't
strike me

as so attractive as it once did.

You do not want to be friends?

Jane, would you be so
good as to come back here

and sit beside me?

Jane, I want a wife.

I want a wife.

Not a nursemaid to look after
me.

I want a wife to share my bed
every night.

All day, if we wish.

If I can't have that, I'd
rather die.

We are not the platonic sort,
Jane.

Can you see me?

Then hear this, Edward.

Your life is not yours to give
up.

It is mine, all mine, and I
forbid it.



No, George.

I told you you're not to work
today.

You are part of the enterprise.

Sit down and don't move.

What's he doing?
Moving chairs.

Come on, everyone.

You must take your place.

You must go directly behind us.

Grace...

Pilot, not on the chairs!

Right, stand there.

Where's the baby?
Turner, on the outside.

Jane--
All ready.

Take your place
beside me.

Come, Edward.