Tonight, Becky is lost and then she is found.
But does she have a happy ending?
Well, this is Vanity Fair!
The world where everyone is striving
for what is not worth having.
Whoo!
Becky!
- Becky!
Oh, that it should come to this.
To lose our shop to the bailiffs
because my husband wouldn't stand up to her.
Men!
I don't want more money.
I might as well offer to pay off the national debt.
- I said I don't want money! - What then?
What, Rawdon?
It's the boy.
Go to your room!
Mother is the name for God in the minds of little children,
and my boy worships a stone.
Or he did.
He got over it.
We both got over it.
There's 600 here.
Give it to poor Briggs.
I should never have taken it off her.
Listen, Bute, uh... I think you'd agree
that the old place could do with a housekeeper?
Queen's Crawley?
It could swallow a whole army of them.
Take Briggs.
She loves Rawdy,
as his mother don't.
I beg you,
be a friend to them both.
Don't do anything foolish.
- Thank you very much. - Top me up.
What's the meaning of this?
Did some little rodent squeak?
How dare you servants sit in my presence on my sofa?
This here is Mrs. Raggles' sofa.
- Get out. - Pay our wages,
and you won't see us for dust.
Mr. Raggles, do you permit these insults to me,
a poor, defenseless woman?
You lived five years in this house
and paid perhaps a third of the rent due to me.
Without that money I am bankrupt.
And I trusted you, because you're a Crawley.
Exactly, so as soon as the colonel comes home...
Why would he ever come home to such as you?
We shall lose this house as well as the shop.
Mrs. Crawley, my family has no roof over its head.
Rawdon! Rawdon!
This is not a good idea.
Does he mean to challenge you?
To a duel?
He'll have to learn to shoot from a surprisingly long distance.
I have a plan for the dashing colonel.
Brother!
Dear brother, this is not the way.
My Lord Steyne gives notice that you may expect
a communication laying out his terms.
Terms?
I want satisfaction!
Such as you are insects, sir,
to be crushed beneath his lordship's feet.
Does he know who we are?
Sir Bute!
Rebecca?
A word?
I have received Lord Steyne alone a hundred times,
it's true.
But I'm only guilty
of too much devotedness to Rawdon's service.
Our family's service.
I looked for a peerage for you.
Oh my God, reconcile us.
Dear brother, pity me,
and bring my cruel, cruel Rawdon home.
For I am innocent as the day is long.
Your soul is black with vanity.
You won't forget me, though, will you?
It will be so boring when I'm gone.
"Congratulations are due to Colonel Rawdon Crawley
who, upon the recommendation of Lord Steyne,
is appointed Governor General of Coventry Island."
A promotion?
Coventry Island?
I don't know, either.
Somewhere off the Ivory Coast, I think.
Africa?
Hot then.
And wet.
Mosquitoes the size of parrots.
Ah, the last Governor General
died within six months, I believe.
Don't go.
Rawdon, I beg you.
No wife.
No home.
No honor.
What else is there left?
It's the end of the line.
Goodbye.
Major Dobbin?
Miles away, as usual.
Did you try some of that chamomile tea?
Glorvina, for sure the best cure for melancholy in a gentleman
is not chamomile tea.
Dobbin!
A letter from my mother. You'll never guess!
What on earth...?
My sister,
she's, um...
Dead?!
To be married. To the vicar.
Put that face away now.
If nothing else will ever truly make you happy, William,
sure you must fly away home now and prevent that wedding.
Peggy O'Dowd,
mother of all the regiment.
Your blessing means all the world.
"Louisa Grace Sedley, loving wife and mother."
Not so loving, towards the end.
She endured many trials, Father.
Which I caused,
and you bore, my patient dear.
Ah, Reverend Binny, good morning.
- Good to see you. - Good morning.
Good morning. Shall we walk together?
Oh, pleasure.
Why all the rush?
Five months traveling
and barely a night to restore our wits,
let alone our poor suffering stomachs.
A fine year for the rosehips, Mrs. Osborne.
Yes, I shall make syrup for the harvest supper.
Oh.
I think it may be coming on to rain.
But we have our butterfly hunt!
Oh!
Mr. Sedley, do you know those gentlemen?
William?
Jos!
Oh, my dear boy!
- Major Dobbin. - Mr. Sedley.
We'll leave you to your guests.
Yes. Thank you.
My dear Amelia.
My darling brother.
Come on. Let's get you inside.
Um...
Was I wrong to imagine
I should be congratulating you on your engagement?
Oh.
Happily I was saved further embarrassment
by the arrival of that very charming new teacher.
Oh.
But where is your lady wife?
You were to marry Miss O'Dowd.
I'm known throughout India as a hopeless old bachelor.
- Hmm.
- Oh.
The English summer!
It's purest heaven to me.
Come on, run.
So you see, none of my investments was unwise,
not really. Look at this.
Yes, there will be tea!
Georgy has grown so tall.
You must go and visit him while you're in London.
You still play it. The piano.
Of course.
The kindest man in the world.
To seek it out and return it to me,
knowing how much it meant.
It was the greatest pleasure of my life,
I assure you, Amelia.
What?
No.
No. That is...
I thought someone else...
Amelia. Amelia!
Amelia, please!
How could it not be me?
I must seem very ungrateful. I do beg your pardon.
I've loved you since the very first moment that I saw you.
No, stop, I can't.
The day in Vauxhall, 13 years ago.
Since then, no hour in the day has passed that I have not thought of you.
Please, stop!
I came to tell you before I left for India,
but you, you didn't care, so, so I left.
- But I'm, I'm here now! - Now?!
What use is now?
You are too late!
I prayed and prayed for a friend to come
when they took away my little boy
and it nearly killed me.
That's when you should have come.
- I'm sorry. - George is my husband,
here and in heaven, forever.
I'm sorry. too.
I'm no fool, Major Dobbin. I can read an account sheet.
Which is how I know that most of the fund
which kept mother and child afloat came from you.
I could do no less,
when she was left without resources.
Hmm. You still mean to make me feel guilty.
Not at all.
A father in his grief is not master of himself.
But, sir, you are a grandfather now.
And a fine life I give the boy.
And how much finer if it included a mother's love?
She took your son away from you,
but she gave you hers in return.
And however much you loved your George,
I can tell you, sir, she worships him still.
There are other women, man.
Hmm?
Welcome to my house, Mama.
Darling Georgy.
It's rather a dark old place, isn't it?
You and your mama can change all that now.
Jane...
I have half my father's fortune
and an old school friend
with a house on the Royal Crescent in Bath.
Bath! Oh.
So I may cross you off my list of things to worry about?
Most certainly.
Goodbye, Amelia.
Goodbye, Jane.
Tear down those dusty curtains, Amelia.
Employ some painters and then go on holiday!
A holiday... Can Uncle Dob come?
I do most extravagantly admire that musical German's waistcoat.
That rug is rather pretty.
Oh, I'll find you much better in Bundlegunge.
The lace is so fine and so white
and half the price it is in London.
May I make a present of it for you?
Oh, I have no use of white lace, William.
Ah, the Pumpernickel Assembly Rooms?
Uncle Dob, no!
- The Pumpernickel Museum? - Bleh!
Will there be suits of armor and thumbscrews?
By heaven, I hope so!
Bliss! Waistcoats galore!
Oh, dear.
I shall accompany your brother
to prevent further crimes against the mode.
Uh... I don't think I'm on the right page.
What?
Well, it says it should be open.
You have never played, petit monsieur?
Never.
Play for me, bring me luck.
Choose the pads, even or odd.
Faites vos jeux. Faites vos jeux.
Mesdames et messieurs, faites vos jeux.
You are very much like your father.
How do you know about my father?
What happened to your French accent?
Madame gagne. The lady wins.
You may take one kiss, Georges.
Just a little one.
Come away. My apologies, madam.
Did you play?
No.
Your word as a gentleman you never will.
Yes, sir.
- Come along, Sedley.
I'll follow.
Goodbye, Dobbin.
I don't play to win.
I don't play at all. No good at it.
I play to forget.
But it doesn't work.
I cannot forget old times.
Everyone else changes. Everyone forgets.
No one has any heart.
Oh, Miss Rebecca. Don't be sad.
Are you not also wallowing in fond memories, Mr. Joseph?
Of a fairytale evening in Vauxhall, perhaps?
I think perhaps a veil is better drawn over that night, Mrs. Crawley.
It was one of the loveliest moments of my life.
Oh, how the mistakes of our youth do haunt us!
I imagine Pumpernickel is dull and provincial
compared to life in Boggley Wallah, Mr. Joseph.
Boggley Wallah!
I, madam, am now Magistrate of Bundlegunge.
Bundlegunge! How utterly marvelous.
Is this really where you live?
You have brought a little joy tonight
to a life become sad and so lonely.
A little more bacon, Georgy?
No, darling, don't take it all!
- Morning. - Good heavens, Jos.
I can smell your cologne water from here.
I may see you at luncheon.
Miss two meals running?
Is he ill?
Nein, verboten!
I don't speak German.
No idea. Sorry. Not a clue.
Won't stay long. Won't steal anything.
Mr. Sedley!
Mrs. Crawley.
I dare say you are sorry to find me in reduced circumstances.
Well...
But not, I hope, sorry to find me at all.
No, indeed.
Dear heaven, to be reminded
that there was once such a thing in the world as an honest man.
I say! That's me!
Oh, that?
Mr. Joseph, that is my most treasured possession.
Mrs. Crawley, allow me.
She is a most injured and virtuous female,
in sore need of a friend.
Promise me, Jos, you will not think
of bringing that little minx here.
What little minx?
Marooned in Pumpernickel
without a friend in the world, Emmy.
An honest woman always has friends.
The agonies Mrs. Crawley has endured
are quite frightful to hear.
Rebecca! Here?
I can't see her.
Don't make me see her, William.
- There's your answer, Jos. - She had a child.
The same age as Georgy. An angel, apparently.
And he adored his mama, as she adored him,
and they tore the babe shrieking out of her arms.
- Oh, but that's... - Awful.
Yes.
Oh, Emmy, her tender heart is broken.
Amelia.
I mean what exactly is she living on?
I am astonished at your lack of charity.
She is my oldest friend.
Miss Sharp was not always a good friend to you.
And she is a mother, as I am.
I don't expect you to understand.
Eine Dame. Englanderin.
Get to the back of the queue.
But God brought him back to me.
Have faith, dear Becky.
I live only for the moment when I too shall be reunited
with my darling son.
Show me his hair!
Is it blond or dark?
What?
You must have a lock of his precious hair!
In a locket, or...
Good morning! A lovely day.
We were thinking a walk through the woods.
May I speak privately, Amelia?
No, you may not.
Speak, sir. We are only two women
and can be easily intimidated.
It is not a pleasure for me to perform this duty.
Pray, proceed quickly then.
A woman...
who is separated from her husband,
who lives in a hovel
and frequents public gaming tables,
is not a fit companion for a lady.
How dare you!
Or for a ten-year-old child.
If the charge is unfaithfulness to my husband, I scorn it,
and defy you or anybody else to prove it.
If the charge is that I am poor, forsaken, wretched,
then yes, I am guilty of those faults
and punished for them every day.
If I have any authority here...
Authority, you have none!
I choose my own friends!
Then do you choose her or me?
Rebecca, we are leaving.
Will you stay a moment and speak to me?
Amelia, please.
Upon my honor, it is not about you.
This is your authority, William?
I have no claim to authority,
but I do have a claim to be heard.
That woman betrayed you. On the night
- before the battle... - You insult my friend,
and now you insult the blessed memory of my husband.
Your language is crude and violent.
It disgusts me.
- You don't mean that. - Yes, I do.
Your conduct is unworthy, sir.
All of these years I have loved and watched you.
I wonder, did I always know
that the prize I set my life on
was not worth winning?
Your heart clings so faithfully to a memory
because that is all you are capable of.
Your soul is shallow.
You cannot feel a love as deep as mine.
As... as real as mine.
The truth is you are not worthy.
You never were worthy of the lifetime
of foolish love I have devoted to you.
Goodbye, Amelia. Let it end.
We are both weary of it.
I'm sorry.
Uncle Dob!
Don't go!
Don't leave me! No!
Uncle Dob!
Becky.
So many eligible gentlemen here!
Not all good husband material, I grant you.
I have my brother.
Jos needs even more looking after than you do.
- And there's my father. - Hopeless.
And you can't hang on to Georgy forever, either.
He'll have to go to school and then what will you do?
You must have a husband!
Mrs. Crawley.
Dear lady, I scarcely know what to say to you.
The Governor of Coventry Island...
your poor husband...
has fallen victim to yellow fever.
Even though your married life was not, um...
Please accept my most sincere condolences.
Oh, your poor little boy!
"And so, Mother, upon the death
of both my father and his brother,
and in consequence of the unmarried situation
of my female cousins,
the estate now devolves upon me,
Sir Rawdon Crawley Bart.
I write to apprise you of this unexpected state of affairs
and to advise you that, as duty demands,
I shall make you a small allowance.
I do not wish you to imagine this changes
anything between us.
I do not wish to see you.
I do not wish you to write to me.
On no account should you ever attempt to make contact again.
I remain, madam, your obedient servant."
Becky Sharp's son.
Lord of the manor.
Can you really call yourself Lady Crawley now?
I don't see why not. As mother of the baronet,
don't I count as some kind of dowager?
I'm not sure it works like that.
Oh, God! Look at this.
Oh, Father, please, not another death.
Nobody's nerves can stand it.
The regiment embarks
with Colonel and Mrs. O'Dowd for Calcutta
within the fortnight.
So Major Dobbin returns to India.
No doubt, ladies, we will all wish him luck there.
How did my sweet little daughter grow so stubborn and so proud?
Amelia, do not say "My husband is in heaven,"
or I won't be responsible for my actions.
Amelia. Women must have husbands.
And one of the best gentlemen I ever saw
has offered you a hundred times,
and you have rejected him,
you silly, heartless, ungrateful little creature.
I tried to love him. I did try.
Dear heaven, Amelia,
if I'd had the chance of a man with a heart as big as his,
and the brains to match,
I'd overlook his big feet.
I was a hundred times on the point of yielding.
But every time, the memory...
The memory of a selfish humbug,
who had neither wit, nor manners, nor heart.
George was not as you paint him.
The memory of a man who was weary of you,
who would have jilted you but that Dobbin forced him
- to keep his word. - Why would anybody do that?
Heavens above, Amelia! Because he loves you.
Because he wants your happiness above his own.
You always think you're so much wiser than me.
Because I am.
Because you need love in your life,
and I do not.
And because, although you'll soon be 30,
you are still a child.
Whereas I... I have been a woman
since I was eight years old.
How do you think I learnt to be a survivor?
George told me himself he never cared for you.
And the week after he married you,
he was chasing after me. You were there.
Amelia. You saw.
You know his handwriting.
He gave that to me, wanted me to run away with him.
He gave it to me under your nose, at the ball,
the day before the battle, the day before he was shot,
which, by the way, served him right.
I don't need to read it.
I know you're right. I've always known.
I was just too proud to ever admit
that I could be such a fool.
If I can persuade you to marry the major, well,
in my whole life, that is my one good deed done.
So, let's go home, let's find pen and ink.
Let's write the major a letter
to bring him back across the sea.
I'll help, I'm good at letters.
- Too late. - It's never too late!
I wrote to him this morning.
You shameless, forward hussy!
You're worse than me!
Can you see anything?
Yes.
What?
No.
Too dark.
What if he doesn't come?
Then it shall be no more than I deserve.
William.
Forgive me, dearest William,
dearest friend of my heart, forgive me if ever you can.
There is nothing to forgive.
Georgy.
Brave soldier!
Good shot, Georgy.
Oh! Oh!
Such a clever boy!
- Briggs! - Sorry, Rawdy.
I cannot help it. So proud.
- Whee!
He waited a very long time
and won his heart's desire.
As did I.
My dear?
He never says a word to me
that is not kind or gentle,
nor thinks of a desire of mine without trying to gratify it.
But our daughter is the love of his life now.
None of us is ever happy in this world.
Except of course the major.
Content at last.
And he deserves it, doesn't he?
But what of us?
None of us ever gets what we want.
And when we do, it's not enough.
I have no other moral than this to tag to my story.
What's this?
Nobody's supposed to be enjoying themselves.
Nobody's supposed to come out well from my Vanity Fair.
Becky, come back here!
- Oh, it's going too fast! - Oh, what nonsense. It's fun!
- What if you fall off? - I've got nine lives.
What if I fall off?!
We've got life insurance.
Oh...