Tonight, Becky decides a war isn't so bad,
so long as there's money to be made.
Yes, it's Vanity Fair,
a world where everyone is striving
for what is not worth having.
Whoo!
If we don't get there soon, it will all be over
without this regiment firing a shot.
Somehow I doubt that, George.
Lord, the poor fellows, sir.
Help will come to them. Eyes forward, lad.
We will fight together bravely as we've been trained to do.
No harm shall come to us.
Oh gosh, oh gosh.
Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh.
Gosh. Uh!
Oh dear. Oh dear me.
Keep calm, don't panic. Oh, dear heavens!
Yes, excuse me...
Mr. Joseph.
How's your poor, dear sister today?
He says that the French
have left 20,000 British dead upon the battlefield,
and she says the army are retreating
in the utmost confusion.
- Rumors. - Yes.
The French are within 10 miles of the city
and have orders to kill every man within the walls.
Did you find any horses?
- No. - Try again!
Merde.
Yes, my sister. Good question.
Even I, a Peer of the Realm,
cannot be expected to spirit horses out of thin air
during a battle, madam.
Shame on a husband who cannot defend
the virtue of his weak and feeble lady.
Weak and what? Good God, madam.
Have you never looked in the mirror?
Testing times, my Lord Bareacres.
Oh, indeed. Oh, madam!
If you should know of any horses hereabouts
that are yet to be requisitioned...
None to be had for love nor money.
You do know there's a war on?
- Here, my darlings.
Here I am.
Do you miss my Rawdon?
Madame?
Shh. Silence.
The boy will tell the lords,
the lords will tell the ladies,
and you, my pretty ones,
will make my fortune today.
Sounds just like my grandmother shaking out her blankets.
Tiffin?
Your husband mustn't find you ill
when he sends for you after the victory.
I can't.
Try, Emmy.
Please try.
The soup, it's very good.
How can I eat?
Remember you're not the only woman
whose life is in God's hands today.
Begging your pardon, miss.
Lady Bareacres sends her compliments
and desires to know the price
of Captain Crawley's horses
what are hidden in the stables.
How odd...
that your mistress should think it could ever be my custom
to transact business with a servant.
Send me her lady's maid, would she? Whatever next?
Would her ladyship require me to saddle the horses myself?
Muck out their stables?
I am insulted, sir.
Yes. Quite.
Can you hear something?
Halt!
- Quiet, boy.
Reaction to cavalry right!
Form square! Fix bayonets!
Protect the colors!
- We're too late. - Gad, they're upon us.
The French have broken through our line!
Hold the line!
Standard-bearer! To me! To me!
Ah!
Unh...
I cannot sell my horses to such as will not love them.
I shall love any creature that will get me home to England.
Ah, but you won't get home, my lady.
The French are at the gates, and they'll get you first.
You and the two great rubies
you wore to the Duchess of Richmond's ball.
But fear not.
I imagine the gems would interest the savages
much more than the lady who wears them.
Sell to me,
and not only shall you have my rubies,
but I shall so far extend my dignity
as to invite you to dine with your betters
at Bareacres Hall.
If I had any betters in this world,
Bareacres Hall is the last place
I should expect to find them.
Name your price, woman.
Beyond rubies.
Ooh! Unh!
Are you hurt?
There we go, there you go, darling. You're all right.
The strumpet refuses to sell!
"March to Waterloo," he says.
I can't see any such place on this map.
Crawley.
Crawley!
Where in buggeration is Waterloo?
"The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul.
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness."
The guns.
What?
The guns, listen.
They are silent.
So they are.
For tonight, at least.
The men on that hill over there...
I see no hill. Not in this murk.
Hundreds of them, thousands.
All God's creatures, just like you and me, George.
And yet tonight, with all my soul,
I wish them as dead as the earth they sit upon.
What kind of world would it be
if the wishes of dear old Dobbin of ours
fell always on deaf ears?
Poof!
Ours shall be the glory, old friend.
Depend upon it.
Ah, Mr. Joseph. Sit.
No appetite? What can ail you so?
The most tragical want of horses.
What do you need horses for?
You can't imagine Amelia would leave without her husband?
And clearly you would not leave without your sister so...
Maybe she'll remain...
to wait a fate worse than death.
They say the enemy shall spare the women.
How unusual.
Oh, I do fear for you, Mr. Joseph.
Should the French find you looking quite so much the military man.
Your military great-coat, monsieur,
with the gold frogging.
Take it.
Your velvet cap with the ostrich...
Take it! Take what you like, but find me some damned horses!
Hah!
I have heard a rumor, sir.
Beneath a confident rider he is as quiet as a lamb,
as fast as a hare.
- Can he stand my weight? - Oh, and as strong as an ox.
So you and Amelia on Bullfinch
and your servant and Mrs. O'Dowd on Foxcub.
Buy both animals?
The horses are inseparable, sir.
As are the ladies.
But when my Rawdon comes home...
if he comes home.
Oh, Mr. Sedley.
Mrs. Crawley....
I beg you...
How much for Bullfinch and Foxcub?
It will break his heart.
Becky, for the love of God, how much?!
God forgive you, Mr. Sedley,
for you are nothing better than a coward.
But don't listen to her...
A fine sight I would be riding pillion behind that great dandy.
- Pute! - I have two horses.
I have near bankrupted myself to get them.
I don't budge till I get the word from Mick.
And I'm not asking you, you mad Paddy witch!
Amelia, dear sister, for the last time,
will you come with me?
Joseph, dearest brother...
I cannot leave without my husband.
Then dear God preserve you.
Oh, and now look.
Our first poor fellas are back. Come on.
George?
George, please God.
Don't wish for anything.
Remember, we are in God's hands.
George...
Oh. George?
Mrs. Osborne.
Ambushed.
- George. - He lives.
Thanks be to God.
- The major? - All spared.
Oh...
Captain Dobbin said I was to be taken in here.
I was to pay the driver two Napoleons,
and my mother will pay you back.
Right, who can help him? Come on.
- Help him down.
- Be careful with him!
Epaulets, plumes,
straight from the battlefield.
The blood still warm
on some of this latest German stuff, madame.
No, I only want French ones.
Onwards, Isidor! Ever onwards!
You can get a new hat.
It was Captain Osborne
who cut down the Frenchman who slashed me.
- Ah! - Slowly, slowly.
- Voilà.
He was a hero, and so was Dobbin.
Best officer in the army is Captain Dobbin, ma'am.
He's so kind and modest and cool under fire,
and so we saw them off.
And so the war is over?
Lord, no, miss.
No.
They're only waiting for the ground to dry.
Come on, be brave, come on.
That's it.
Well prepared.
Brave lads all.
The French artillery are coming about.
Indeed they are.
Tell the 44th and the 47th to expect cavalry.
Right.
Sergeant Major. Fix bayonets.
Battalion will fix bayonets.
Prepare to receive cavalry.
Prepare to receive cavalry!
Steady. Their artillery is coming into range.
Steady now.
Into your hands, O Lord.
Steady your nerves!
Keep them tight!
Hold fast!
Keep the line tight!
Steady!
Hold the positions!
Keep the line tight!
Hold fast!
- Keep it tight! - Hold force!
Sir.
May they be cut down like a field of corn.
Sergeant Major, block off!
- Steady!
Please, someone help me!
Hold the line!
Captain Osborne, front section, prepare to give fire.
Prepare to fire!
Wait!
Hold your fire!
Captain Osborne, hold your fire!
I said hold your fire, damn you!
Captain Osborne, hold your fire!
- Captain Osborne. - Wait!
Front section, open fire!
A Company, front rank. Fire!
B Company, front rank, fire!
A Company, center, fire!
B Company, center, fire!
Ah!
Center, fire!
The French are retreating.
But not for long.
It's getting hard to see, sir.
Ah...
Vive la France!
Here they come.
Steady, lads. Steady!
Now!
First rank, fire!
Second rank, fire!
Battalion, port arms!
Charge bayonets.
Huzzah!
By the center, ordinary march!
Well done, lads. Pursue them now!
Drive them all the way to Paris!
Now is our time!
It is a letter from Mrs. Crawley.
I see Rawdon is sold out of the Guards as a colonel.
Ah, the valiant creature does deserve a quieter life.
Oh!
A pair of French epaulets.
The Cross of the Legion of Honor.
And the hilt of a sword.
And does Mrs. Rebecca claim as usual
that the heroic Colonel Rawdon cut said objects from a Frenchman
begging for his life?
Well, it... it could be true, Matilda.
It was entertaining at first,
but I'm bored with the Battle of Waterloo.
- Oh. - We did win after all.
Is Mrs. Osborne quite well?
Is Mrs. Osborne warm enough?
Whoa, hold it up.
Mr. Osborne.
Drive on, damn you.
Hold, driver. I will see you, sir.
Do you presume to command me, Captain Dobbin?
Or must I now salute Major Dobbin,
since better men than you have died,
and you step into their shoes?
Better men are dead, yes, sir.
Nothing could've prepared us for the slaughter.
There were times when I thought...
thought this might be the only battle
in the sorry history of the world
where not a single man on either side was left alive.
Job was done.
We move on.
His widow is without means, sir.
And soon the poor lady will be a mother.
Will you punish the child for the sins of the parent?
Or will you forgive the child, your grandchild, sir,
for the sake of George,
who fought more bravely than even you could've hoped?
That boy died
without ever confessing he did me wrong.
Without ever apologizing to a father
he wronged so wickedly.
Believe me, he deeply regretted
the loss of your affection.
She may have seven children
and starve for all I care.
She is dead to me.
- Oh don't cry, little man.
How am I supposed to know what's the matter with him?
Well, it's a long journey. Perhaps he's tired...or hungry.
Are you hungry, little man?
Well, he'll have to learn to wait like the rest of us.
Oh, is that nice?
Did you like that? Did you? Yes, you did.
I don't know why you bother
when there'll be servants at the hotel.
No, he likes it better from me.
Don't you, young man?
Who's my soldier? Hmm? Who's my little soldier?
Who's my little soldier?
Right, it's been long enough.
- We must go back to London. - Why?
Because he is the image of you.
And the money's all gone.
Okay.
Shh!
- I brought him... - So sweet, William.
What would we do without you?
Just pop them over there.
Quietly.
It's wonderful to see the change in you, Amelia.
He is so beautiful.
So like my George, isn't he?
Perfect.
- I'm come to say goodbye. - Why? Where are you going?
The regiment is under orders for India.
I shall be gone a very long time.
I'll write to you.
All about Georgy.
All his adventures, all his scrapes.
Dear William,
how good you have been to us both.
Come closer.
Look at him.
Isn't he an angel?
He is shaking your hand goodbye.
God bless you both.
Shh.
Present arms.
Oh! Mrs. Crawley.
I thought you were the doctor.
Ah...
I wish the doctor would come. I do not know what to do.
She will not let me near her.
Dear Miss Crawley.
Remember how well I nursed you once?
Uh!
- Please heaven this time.
I shall nurse you again if you'll permit me.
- I'm so sorry.
Everything's gone wrong since we parted.
I regret it so much.
I love Rawdon,
and he loves me.
But I never wanted to be a mother.
I never had one of my own. I don't know how to be one now.
And to be excluded from the light of your love
has caused us so much hurt.
Oh, Miss Crawley, please forgive us.
We could move in.
- What, here? - Why not?
Because it's not ours.
Because the whole family will stand up and drive us out.
Why can't you see that?
Well, where do you suggest we all live?
For our invalid.
Oh, Mr. Raggles, such terrible news.
It's not a palace, Mrs. Crawley.
Not even a mansion as you and the colonel are used to.
It's quite charming, Mr. Raggles.
Some might say it's a big step for such as me and Mrs. Raggles
to set ourselves up as landlords.
Why shouldn't honest working people
see the fruits of their labors?
Mmm, here.
We cannot afford Mayfair.
As soon as your aunt's will is read.
The poor old girl is not yet cold in her grave.
And who's to say if she will favor us at last?
"I, Matilda Crawley, do by this,
my last will and testament,
further give and bequeath
to my companion of many years, Miss Arabella Briggs,
my second best tea service
and the sum of 600 pounds."
Oh, not deserved. No, no.
"To my younger nephew, Rawdon Crawley,
my prized collection of souvenirs from the Battle of Waterloo
and a single payment of..."
Yes,
"100 pounds
in full valuation of my esteem for the choices
he's made in his life."
Oh, dear.
Oh. Oh, my poor, dear Rawdon. Oh!
You jumped the wrong way there,
Becky, my girl.
"The residual part of my estate,
the house and some 70,000 pounds,
I leave to my nephew Bute and his heirs in perpetuity."
They poisoned her against us, the villains.
The smug, poisonous, black-hearted devils.
All the rage in the world won't get us your aunt's money now.
Rawdon, listen to me.
Listen.
We must stay friends with your brother.
There's no point making enemies where the money is,
and, if things go really badly, well...
I'll be his governess, and you can be his butler.
- Oh. - No, all right, stable boy.
Dearest husband, show me a smile.
You know I'm right.
And why shouldn't I live in Mayfair?
Because I cannot afford the rent.
Listen to me.
This shall be our gaming room.
Here, you will play all comers and all games.
Faro, piquet, ecarte.
It will be like a club in a private house.
Warm, comfortable, respectable.
You will win, except when I judge it
helpful for you to lose,
and I will grow in charm with each profitable day.
What could possibly go wrong?
Mrs. Rawdon Crawley.
This might be your best plan yet.
- Morning. - Morning.
Look, Georgy, Happy Christmas.
"I wish you could see how delighted he is
with the gifts you send.
Oh, William, I wish you could see him growing up.
Rules over us, rules over us all,
as did his father.
Every night, we pray together
to ask our dear Lord to bless my husband as if...
as if he had not left us.
And we always add a little prayer for you,
for our only friend on the other side of the world
in India."
Major Dobbin, won't you join us for a cup of tea?
I'm afraid I'm...
Excuse me.
"Dear Jane...
I hope this letter finds you well,
and the worst of your grief is past.
I think of your dear brother every day
and mourn his loss.
I think also of his child
and the poor widow he left behind.
I wish with all my heart
they had a friend closer than 5,000 miles.
I still long to believe, for George's sake,
your father's heart may one day melt."
In God's name, Miss Osborne.
What is the matter with you tonight?
I've seen him, sir.
I've seen little George,
and, sir, he's as beautiful as an angel.
And he's the living image of...
Who are you? What do you want?
Georgy! Where are your manners?
I'm alone here.
Just a little ride together.
Just half an hour.
My parents are from home, Jane.
He's the child's grandfather.
Amelia, please.
Wait there.
Ready.
Go to Auntie Jane.
So, young George...
Yes, sir?
Do you know who I am?
No, sir.
I'm your grandfather.
No, you're not!
Marry again?
He's very generous, if you'll listen.
He says, even if you marry again,
the allowance he makes you will continue.
Take money to part from my child?
He doesn't say that.
"It must be understood that the child
will live entirely with his grandfather at the Osborne residence
and will be occasionally permitted to see Mrs. George Osborne."
It is an insult!
Amelia, it doesn't do to be selfish.
You call a mother selfish who will not give up her child?
Mrs. Osborne, it says here in black and white
that he will make Georgy his heir,
that he will inherit everything his father lost.
When he made the dreadful mistake of marrying me.
Every child must leave his mother's petticoat someday.
I lost my husband.
I will not lose my son.
The answer is still no.
Excuse me, gentlemen.
Oh, no, you don't.
There'll be hell to pay
if you disturb your mama's singing.
Ah, please take Rawdy up to bed.
I don't want to.
Why can't I stay down here with you and Mama?
Ah, hush, hush, hush.
You mustn't bother Mama,
not when she has guests, hmm?
There's a brave boy.
I wish Mama would sing for me.
Stay with him until he sleeps.
- Come on, let's go to bed. - Ah.
I will sing you something.
My Lord Steyne.
And how is Mrs. Crawley's husband?
Still busy keeping the wolf from the door?
Milord.
♪ If your life was bad to you...