What is it? Is there something wrong?
No. As my confidante.
You have something to confide? How delicious!
Your brother has asked me to marry him,
and I feel, quite irrationally, that I may say, 'yes'.
I'd like your approval.
My approval?
Beatrix, don't be a fool.
Marry him.
Tomorrow. Don't waste a moment. How could you hesitate?
You're not upset?
Well, why would I be upset?
Well, both Norman and I. You'll be alone.
You have a chance for happiness, and you're worrying about me?
I wouldn't worry about you if, if someone came along
who loved me and whom I loved, I would trample my mother.
-Do you love Norman? -Yes.
Then marry him. Don't you dare think about anyone else.
But what about all the blessings of being alone?
Hogwash.
What else is a woman on her own supposed to say?
You have a chance to be loved. Take it.
And leave me happy,
knowing that the two people that I love are happy.
That is the most thought you should ever have for me.
There you are, Beatrix! The guests.
Yes, Mother.
Millie...
Go.
What is going on tonight?
Why do I feel like a stranger in my own home?
You have a clever daughter, Rupert. You must be very proud.
-Of Beatrix? Yes, we are. -To write and draw like that!
Beatrix should meet my niece, Anne. She makes pots.
-Ceramics, Nigel. -Look like pots to me.
As for you, madam, I suggest you take up knitting.
Merry Christmas.
What was all that about?
Sir Nigel disapproves of the way I play whist.
I'm afraid I won two guineas from him.
Mr Warne!
-Your painting. -Oh, yes. My Christmas present.
Yes.
-Goodbye, Mr Warne. -Goodbye, Mr Warne.
Sir?
I have an appointment to see Mr Rupert Potter in the Eagleton Room.
-He's expecting you, sir. -Thank you.
Come along, Norman, it's only her father.
Come in.
Thank you very much, Mr Potter, for taking the time
out of your very busy day.
Goodbye, Mr Warne.
If you will not accept our advice in this decision,
then we will have to impose that advice.
Respect our knowledge and the worth of our opinions, Beatrix.
Oi! Get over there!
I said that I'll do it and I will.
Norman Warne is a tradesman, Beatrix. No Potter can marry into trade,
-and that's final. -And what are we?
Father's money comes from Grandfather's printing works
in Lancashire. A trade, Mother.
And if Grandfather hadn't run for parliament,
we'd still be living in the shadow of his factories.
Your legacy came from Grandfather Leech's cotton trade.
When did we become so high and mighty?
We're parvenus, Mother. Social climbers.
Your father and I We will not allow this marriage for your own good,
and there is no reason to become insulting!
It's not an insult! It's the truth!
Our lives are pretension and social aspiration.
Sir this and Lady that!
Norman Warne is a gentleman of comfortable means,
and not one bit beneath us, and I intend to marry him.
Not if you expect to take one penny of your inheritance!
You haven't disinherited Bertram for running off
with a wine merchant's daughter.
Happily, I am a published author. I have means of my own.
This discussion is over.
Come in, Father.
Why is it that after any difficult situation, she always sends you?
Mama didn't send me.
I don't like tension in my home. I want to resolve this matter.
Well, you can't. I've made my decision.
Your mother wants what is best for you, as do I, Beatrix.
An impulsive and inappropriate marriage is something that
you would ultimately regret.
You can't allow me to marry and leave.
With Bertram moved away, who would take care of you?
You surely do not think we would deny you happiness
just simply because we needed a nursemaid?
That is a knife in my heart.
Well, then, what is it, Father, because I cannot understand.
You cannot make us the villains, Beatrix.
Your mother trotted out countless suitors all of them acceptable.
-You rejected every one of them. -I know that, Father.
I didn't want to be a silly woman marrying a man simply
because he was acceptable, or rich enough to take care of me.
But does that mean that I'm never to be loved?
Father?
Wiggin, wait here, please.
I'd like to enquire about my royalty earnings, Mr Copperthwaite.
And whether I might, at some stage, afford a house of my own
in the country.
You have enough to buy an estate. Several estates, and a house in town.
You're quite a wealthy woman, Miss Potter.
Am I truly?
Yes, the income has become quite regular.
If your fortune continues to grow, you should have no financial worries
for the rest of your life.
Extraordinary.
Beatrix.
Beatrix, come and sit with us, please.
-I'd rather not, Father. -We have something to discuss.
A proposition.
And, for heaven's sake, Beatrix. Let the servants carry your dishes.
-Tea? -No, thank you.
Nonsense. You always take tea.
Contrary to what you think and what you have so vehemently
expressed, your mama and I want you to be happy.
We simply doubt that this marriage will do the trick.
Helen, please. Sit down, Beatrix.
What we don't want is for you to rush into something
which you may later wish to reconsider.
I won't want to reconsider.
-We are not convinced. -Helen, please.
We are not convinced. Yet, neither have we hearts of stone.
Therefore, this is what we propose.
You may accept Mr. Warne,
but it must remain a complete secret even from his own family.
Now, this summer, yourself, Mama and I will go,
as always, to the Lake District.
If, at the end of the summer, you still wish to proceed,
then we will announce your engagement
and you can marry with our blessing and our love.
Why must no one know?
So there'll be no public embarrassment when you change.
-If, If you change your mind. -If.
Now, Beatrix, if you care for this man as much as you say you do,
then in a few months the ardour will still be there.
If your mother, and I, are correct, and this emotion cools with time,
then we will have protected you against humiliation and unhappiness.
-It will not cool. -Beatrix, listen to me.
A woman at your age must consider very carefully...
Mother, the only thing true at my age is that at my age,
every day matters.
Very well, Mother, Father, I accept your terms.
Norman and I may decide to wait in any case.
But make plans.
There will be a wedding in this house by October.
They're beautiful.
Which carriage, Rupert?
Saunders?
Four carriages down. This way.
Well...
-This is the Potters' for Windermere. -Right you are, sir.
Here and those two.
Beatrix!
Mr. Warne!
Oh, I do apologise.
-Miss Potter! -Mr. Warne!
I was beginning to fear you wouldn't come.
You're soaked.
It wasn't raining when I left the office.
I brought you the proof of the new book for your trip.
-Oh, you'll catch cold. -I couldn't miss seeing you off.
You know nothing would stop me.
This is going to be the longest summer I've ever spent.
-It's only the summer. That's all. -Yes.
And this time is not for us. It's for your parents.
How can they know what we're feeling? They've never felt it.
We can afford them this three months.
I suppose.
This is not how I wish to say goodbye to you.
Goodbye, Miss Potter. I look forward to your speedy return.
As do I, Mr. Warne.
Quickly. Here.
Goodbye, Miss Potter.
Goodbye, Mr. Warne.
Goodbye, Norman.
My dear, dear Norman,
this absurd forced separation is surely a kind of madness,
most notably, that of my mother, but you are here, my dear, for me.
The beauty of this place seems magnified somehow,
with you in my mind.
In my occasional lonely moments, I imagine conversations between us,
and yesterday startled a duck with my declaration of love for you.
All of my thoughts are with you, my darling.
I know that you find Harold and Fruing terribly boring,
but, in fact, I'm having what I could almost describe
as wild enjoyment working with them.
You may wake up, one day, to find yourself married
to a businessman.
Praise the day when I can wake up to find you beside me.
I took one of the boats out onto the lake at sunset
to watch the water hens feeding.
They made noises like kissing.
I closed my eyes and pictured you.
I find I love my heart more now,
because that is where I know I can find you.
Amelia sends her fond love and wishes for us all
to be together again,
as do I, multiplied a hundredfold.
Sir... Hill Top Farm.
May I ask, is it a working farm?
Aye. Another great one falls, but this one breaks your heart.
Really? Why?
Now, miss, a body would have to
be a poet, which I certainly am not.
Excuse me, but I'd swear you were someone I once knew.
Good heavens, Willie Heelis!
Miss Beatrix! Miss Potter!
-Is that you? -How good to see you!
Well, hello!
I see you've given up on the law.
Have you decided to make an honest living?
Ah, yes, the law. Well, not exactly. No, no.
A country solicitor needs to be proficient in many skills.
And it suits me to be out of the office now and again.
Now, I could show you Hill Top, if you have the time.
Yes. Yes. Time is exactly what I have.
Good.
-Not a bad outlook, Miss Potter. -It's sublime.
By chance, I met an old friend today who showed me
a beautiful farm that's for sale.
It would be a perfect country home, and though I know we'll live
mainly in the city
I'm very keen to share my favourite places with you.
The post has arrived and, once again, no letter from your Mr. Warne.
Is it time for me to start getting just a little hopeful?
He did mention he might take a few days' holiday.
The post is no doubt slow from wherever he's gone.
Indeed.
But there is something that appears to be from
that interesting sister of his.
Millie? How delightful!
Excuse me.
Norman is ill.
-I'm Beatrix Potter. -Please come in, miss.
-Ah, Miss Potter. -Hello.
-Please, come in. -Thank you.
-I came as soon as I heard. -Yes. It's very kind of you.
Very, very kind indeed.
How is he?
Beatrix.
Millie?
I'm too late.
He was so happy.
He sang songs.
He made me dance with him in the parlour.
He laughed all the time, everyone noticed the change in him.
Only I knew the reason.
But all summer, he had a cough, and then the cough got worse,
and in one night, he was gone.
It was so sudden. I keep thinking that it hasn't happened.
I keep expecting to see him in the garden.
When's the funeral?
It was yesterday.
It was only the immediate family, and I...
Well, I couldn't think of a reason to ask them to delay it for you.
It was considerate of you to come and pay your respects, Miss Potter.
Our mother is particularly moved, and is sorry she isn't well enough
to come down to greet you.
I'll be taking over our late brother's business affairs, Miss Potter.
Fine.
I want to assure you that F Warne and company will do everything
in its power to ensure that our tragic loss causes you
the least possible inconvenience.
Please accept the gratitude of the entire family.
-They want me to go. -I'm sorry.
Miss Beatrix! What are you doing in London?
-Is something wrong? -A friend died.
I'm sorry, miss.
Was she a close friend?
Miss Beatrix?
I'll leave your dinner outside the door, then, miss.
Saunders is here, Miss Potter, to take you to the station.
I shan't be going back to the Lakes.
Can I get you anything, then?
Nothing, Hilda.
Very well, Miss Potter.
Beatrix, it's Millie.
Look, I know I'm unannounced, but they sent back all my messages.
Please, please, please, let me in.
We've got to get you out of here. Come on. Come on.
Let's get you washed and dressed and out of this room.
Go and find something to wear.
I can't.
Millie!
I can't!
I've been torturing myself.
I should never have encouraged you with Norman.
I'd have saved you all this terrible grief.
I loved him.
I loved him too.
But he's gone.
I must leave this house.
I will leave this house.
Congratulations, Miss Potter.
You are now the proud owner of Hill Top Farm.
Thank you, George.
Well, I'm sure you'll be very happy at Hill Top.
I spent some time there as a child.
Is that so? I did have other plans for it, but...
I'm sure that I will love it in any case.
Yes. If you need any other assistance or help...
Thank you very much, Mr Heelis.
Good day.
Good day, Miss Potter.
What I don't understand, Beatrix, is how you're going to pay
for this farm.
I'm a writer, Mother. People buy my work.
Our daughter is famous, Helen.
You are the only person who doesn't know it.
What I don't understand is why you find it necessary
to leave your home.
It is not a choice, Father.
Beatrix, if I could undo anything...
There's nothing to undo.
This has nothing to do with you or Mother.
I must make my own way.
So you must.
Everybody out.
You see?
I told you we could not know where our journey would lead.
It has led us here.
This is your new home.
No tears!
Miss.
Millie!
It's wonderful to see you!
Oh, this place is perfect.
Millie!
What have you brought?
I thought it best not to bring this, but then...
it jumped into my hand as I walked out the door.
I'm sorry.
Thank you.
It's getting easier.
-It's getting easier for me too. -Good
I'm painting again.
My mind's going mad with the story. I've got pigs running amuck up there.
Well, it's this place, isn't it?
Who'd want to be cooped up in London when they could be up here?
-I'm so glad you came. -Me too.
I've been so lucky with visitors. First, my brother Bertram,
then my mother.
You think that's lucky? Your mother is a monster!
No, its fine. My mother and I have come to an understanding.
We've agreed to not understand each other.
Look, if some city slicker wants to offer me a half-decent price
for a derelict property and then pay me and my lads good money
to knock the damn place down.
Let him build what he likes.
If we allow these city developers to buy up our land,
there'll be no more farming.
and all you're left with is a ruined landscape and no community.
Miss Potter!
Ah, Mr Heelis.
I see you've found me.
I played here so often as a child. I know your farm very well.
I swam in the stream, played hide and seek in the woods
with Cousin Charles.
I brought you the executed deed for the farm.
At last. Thank you very much, Mr Heelis.
-Busy. -Yes.
Yes, I've asked Mr Canon to stay on and run Hill Top as a working farm.
I'm learning a great deal.
I wish everyone who bought land up here could be so...
enlightened.
You've bought a farm, you've kept the workers on,
you're working the land and you're preserving this place.
Yes. It makes me happy.
Mr Cannon says the two farms adjoining mine are for sale.
I'd hate to see the developers get hold of them.
Do you know anything about them?
-Morning, Mr Canon. -Miss Potter.
My, they've grown!
-Handsome lot, wouldn't you say? -Yes.
Have you named them?
We don't often give them names, Miss Potter.
Makes it a bit hard, come slaughtering time.
Hello, Miss Potter!
Hello yourself, Mr Heelis. To what do I owe this pleasure?
I've come with a message. Mr Hubbard is ill
and will be unable to show you the neighbouring farms today.
-Oh, dear. It's not serious, I hope? -Chronic illness, I'm afraid.
Recurs several times a month.
Usually after a night at the Rose And Crown.
I see.
Mr Hubbard wondered if I might show you the properties instead.
I'd be pleased to have so knowledgeable a guide.
I'll just get my shawl.
Well, it's prime land.
There's a lot of profit in building houses on it.
But more value as a working farm, surely?
Spoken like a true Lakes woman, Miss Potter.
Indeed, Mr Heelis.
You do realise I've never been to an auction.
It's simple enough.
Don't bid too early and stick to your limit.
I know my limit, Mr Heelis.
Craven's Mill Farm,
40 acres of splendour. ¢G1,100 anywhere?
¢G1,100 I'm bid.
¢G1,150? Come along, gentlemen.
Splendid little farm, this. Lots of development potential.
¢G1,150. ¢G1,200 anywhere?
¢G1,200. ¢G1,300 anywhere?
Bidding, madam? ¢G1,300.
Seated at ¢G1,300.
¢G1,400.
¢G1,500.
¢G1,600.
Seven hundred. Eight hundred.
¢G1,900.
At ¢G1,900. ¢G2,000 at the back. ¢G2,000
Any more at ¢G2,000.
¢G2,300.
-Rich Bastard! -Thank you, sir. ¢G2,300.
At ¢G2,300.
Any more, then, at ¢G2,300?
¢G2,500.
The lady at ¢G2,500.
Against you, sir, at ¢G2,500. ¢G2,800.
Miss Potter, you've bid more than that farm is worth.
¢G3,000, at ¢G3,000 seated, with the lady. Against you, sir.
Are we all done at ¢G3,000?
Going once,
Going twice,
Sold to the lady, ¢G3,000.
Sir, you should control your client.
She has allowed her emotions to get the better of her.
Really?
She has squandered any possibility of profit from that farm.
It was prime development land.
This place, this community is an inspiration.
It should be conserved for future generations,
and not destroyed. It deserves protection.
Madam, your observations are woefully inadequate...
Please, sir. I am no longer in the habit of being lectured to,
and, thankfully, I do not require your approval or anyone else's.
So, if you'll excuse us? Mr Heelis?
I hope you're not going to make a habit of this, Miss Potter.
Do you know, Mr Heelis, I think I might.
Now, will you have time tomorrow to show me those other farms?
-I certainly will. -Excellent!
Come in.
Oh, my!
Goodness me!
I'll be just a moment.
Now then young man, how are you taking to your new home?
I know it's not London,
but Hill Top might suit a young rabbit better.
He seems to be taking to the place.
As am I, Mr Heelis.
-Now, the road. -Oh, yes.
Yes, of course, Miss Potter.
How would you feel about calling me William
instead of this infernal Mr Heelis? I sound like an undertaker.
Of course, William.
And I believe Beatrix might be perfectly appropriate as well.
There's something delicious about writing the first few words of a story.
You can never quite tell where they're take you.
Mine took me here. Where I belong.