Miss Dorrit, are you quite sure
you wish your sister
to know the nature of our relationship?
Quite sure, ma 'am.
Then I suppose
I shall have to tell her.
Do sit down.
I have a son, Miss Dorrit,
by my first husband. He is 22 years old.
I first married extremely young.
Be quiet, bird!
This son, his name is Edmund Sparkler,
is very impressible, very easily led.
So when I heard that my son
was fascinated by a dancer,
I was sure it must be a dancer
from the Opera,
where young men moving in society
are usually fascinated.
I need hardly say that
when I found out what the theatre was,
and the kind of entertainment
to be found there, I was much surprised.
And then, when I found that your sister,
by rejecting my son's advances,
had brought him to the point
of proposing marriage,
my feelings were
of the profoundest anguish.
- Bird! Be quiet!
And I told her that I might be a dancer,
but I consider my family
quite as good as her son's,
and I did not see any honour
in being connected with them.
So you did. And so it may be.
Sadly, the fact is we are all creatures
of society in one way or another,
and the society in which I move
will never recognise the society
in which you and your sister move.
I am afraid
we should find ourselves compelled
to look down upon you with contempt.
We should feel obliged
to recoil from you with abhorrence.
Did I or did I not tell you
I'd already refused him?
You say so, but Sparkler is a young man,
and young men are apt to persevere.
And if he were to persevere,
you might very well change your mind.
And I tell you now,
in the event of a marriage,
my son would have nothing whatsoever.
He would be an absolute beggar.
Which makes no odds to me,
cos I don't want him anyway!
I am a creature of impulse, Miss Dorrit.
And as such, I beg you
to accept this small gift.
And just to seal our mutual understanding,
perhaps you will be so good
as to accept a mark of my appreciation
at the dressmaker's.
You are too kind.
I believe at last
we understand each other.
And now, I think,
it is time to part for ever,
and on the best of terms.
Goodbye, Miss Dorrit.
So pleased to have made
your acquaintance.
Rent man! Quick, Pancks, get inside,
lock the door! Rent man!
- All well with the books, Mr Clennam?
- Pretty well.
- All well with the works, Mr Doyce?
- Pretty well, I'd say.
That Italian fellow's
a good little workman.
I've told you, Auntie,
Arthur's really, really...
Aah! Visitors!
- Come along, up you go now.
- Get off me!
- Slowly, easy does it.
- Come, let me assist you.
Mrs Finching, welcome to Doyce
and Clennam. Come through to the office.
Oh, good gracious, Arthur...
Mr Clennam, I should say, what a climb
we have had to get up here.
Most unkind of you never to have come
back to see us since that day,
but I suppose you were
more pleasantly engaged.
And is she fair or dark?
Blue eyes or black, I wonder?
And to think of Doyce and Clennam.
How did it all come about, I wonder?
I know I have no right to ask
the question, not any more,
the golden chain between us that once was
forged being snapped, and very proper.
But I thought that I would call
with Mr F's aunt and congratulate you
and offer best wishes.
I am very happy to see you, Flora.
Thank you for your good wishes.
There's milestones on the Dover road!
She's in fine spirits today!
Let him meet it if he can!
Oh, dear, very lively.
You seem to stimulate her, Arthur.
Doyce and Clennam, I should say!
One last remark. Knowing you were
interested in "her", it came to me,
"Good gracious, why not have her here?"
Um, whom do you mean?
Why, your little friend, of course!
The seamstress!
Little Dorrit?
Yes! I recall you saying you have
a very fond and tender feeling for her.
I do, Flora.
As once you had for me
in dear, dead days gone by.
Oh, no, no, no, Flora!
It's nothing like that. I...
I am simply interested in Miss Dorrit's
welfare, and her family's welfare.
Oh. But does she know that?
I'm sure she does.
Oh, well, in that case,
it can do no harm either way!
She can come and do some needlework
at our house if she cares to.
I'm sure she'd be glad to, Flora.
Thank you for thinking of her.
You can't make a head and brains out
of a brass knob if there's nothing in it.
You couldn't do it with
your Uncle George while he was living,
much less now he's dead!
Oh, dear, livelier than ever.
Perhaps we'd better go.
Oh!
- Oh, er...
- Come along, Auntie. Time for your rest.
- Let him chuck me out the window!
Come on, Auntie!
Mr Casby! Mr Casby!
Pa's visiting his tenants.
They love him, you know.
They think he's a saint,
I don't know why.
They think it's Pancks grinding
their faces in the dust,
but it's Pa all the time.
You know, he loves money so very much,
it's quite a scandal, really.
Ah, ain't he a lovely man, Mr Clennam?
Come on, Auntie.
- Where are you taking me now?
- Careful, be careful! That's it.
Chivery old and Chivery new.
Just the men I wanted to see.
Mr Pancks.
And what can I do for you?
Bit of private business for a client.
And what has your business
to do with me?
I want to see your books, Mr Chivery.
1805. Who came in and who left.
Confidential, that is, Mr Pancks.
No, it ain't.
Oh, dear, oh, dear. All right, then,
there's half a crown to oil your joints.
Much obliged, Mr Pancks.
Edwards, Mathews, Bishop,
Kitchner, Elliot, Dickens...
William Dorrit. £1 20.
Address - 4 Gower Street North.
Date of birth - 24th October 1 775.
County of birth - Dorset.
I'm much obliged to you, Mr Chivery.
Oh, Amy!
Hello, Mater. Pa home?
Your stepfather is returned
from the City, yes.
- Good-oh.
- By the way, Edmund,
I had a visitor today.
Miss Dorrit called, with her sister.
Did she, biggod?
And I missed her!
What a shame. She's a deuced fine girl.
You will not be seeing her again, Edmund.
Now, look here! I say! You can't do that.
She's a deuced fine girl.
I have done it, Edmund.
And with Miss Dorrit's full assent.
She...she's chucked me?
Yes. I'm afraid she has, Edmund.
Now, go and get dressed for dinner.
- This is so unfair!
- Go and get dressed.
Encore! Encore!
I don't know why you're looking
so disapproving.
I don't know what to say.
You don't like Mr Sparkler?
Like him? No. He's an idiot.
So you'll be quite happy
not to see him any more?
- I'll be delighted, Amy.
- I wish you hadn't...
...taken jewellery and things
from Mrs Merdle, Fanny.
You little fool!
Have you no spirit at all?
Would you let a woman like that put
her foot upon your family, and thank her?
- No, but...
- Then you make her pay for it, you mouse!
What else could you do? You make her pay
for it, and do your family some credit!
- If you despise me because I'm a dancer,
why did you put me
in the way of being one?
It was your doing.
You're the one who chivvied me
into taking lessons.
Now you'd have me stoop as low
as the ground before this Mrs Merdle.
I wouldn't, Fanny. It was only
taking jewellery from her seemed...
Oh, I suppose you'd have us starve!
You drag us down, Amy. Sometimes I think
you want to see us in the gutter!
Fanny!
Forgive me, Amy!
You didn't deserve that.
But I do have my pride.
So do I, Fanny.
It just comes out
in different ways, I suppose.
Mr Clennam, sir. To see Mr Dorrit?
Actually, I just wanted
to leave this note for Amy,
if you wouldn't mind passing it on.
Of course.
Before you go, sir,
perhaps I might ask a favour.
He'll sit there hours, Mr Clennam.
Hours, he will.
May I ask...
It's Miss Dorrit, sir.
He's breaking his heart for her.
Ever since he asked her
and she refused him.
I had no idea. But of course,
he must have known her a long time.
Brought up together, sir.
Played together.
Always dreamed that one day...
But her brother and sister
are very high in their views
and look down on John,
and her father's all for himself
and against sharing her with anyone.
So she's made a sacrifice of herself
and turned him down.
And you believe...she loves your son?
Never had eyes for no-one else.
Mr Clennam, if you felt able
to have a word with her,
make her see there's a young man there
who loves her very dearly.
I'm not sure I'm the right person
for the job, Mr Chivery.
I don't think my interference
would be appreciated.
She looks up to you, sir.
You look out for her and her family.
She knows that you have
her best interests at heart.
I wouldn't ask,
but it breaks a father's heart, as well.
Ah-hem!
Ah...
Your guests are here, sir.
Yes.
I suppose they are.
Do you intend to go down
and greet them, sir?
Yes, yes. I...
I suppose I should.
So that's Merdle, is it?
He don't look like anybody
very much to me.
You might think that.
He's a quiet bird.
But he's got the City
in the palm of his hand.
And Parliament.
And the Circumlocution Office.
Well, look, look, there's Tite Barnacle
himself, dancing attendance.
- Mrs Merdle's a fine-looking woman.
- Yes, indeed.
Magnificent pair of lungs.
I speak as a medical man, of course.
And very well decorated.
Well, he can afford it.
They say he made another
£100,000 just last week.
Two, I heard, and Bellows
at the Treasury said four!
Well, good luck to him.
My lords, ladies and gentlemen,
my friends and colleagues.
Before we dine,
I cannot allow the moment to pass
without a word of gratitude to our host.
Hear, hear.
Mr Merdle, one can say
without any exaggeration,
is the wonder of the age.
Everything he touches,
it would seem, turns to gold.
Money, we have heard it said,
is the root of all evil.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
But look around you!
What do you see here
but an abundance of goodness?
Goodness, my friends!
All the riches of nature. And what
has made this possible but money?
Money is the fuel that feeds the engine
of our great and glorious Empire,
and our host is the Great Engineer!
My lords, ladies and gentlemen,
I give you our host, Mr Merdle!
Mr Merdle!
I thought he didn't look too chipper.
Man like that must be under
a good deal of mental strain, I suppose.
No doubt, no doubt.
But as a matter of fact, I've found
nothing at all the matter with him.
He may have some deep-seated,
recondite complaint, I suppose.
But I'm damned if I could identify it.
- They say that gold's a poison.
- Nonsense. Mercury, now, or lead.
Well, he doesn't look a happy man.
I wouldn't change places with him,
for all his millions.
Nor I. Nor I.
Where to, sir?
- Take me to the City.
- Very good, sir. Gee up!
Yes, I have to say, a very bad day's work,
Pancks, a very bad day's work.
It seems to me, and I must insist
on making the observation forcefully,
you should have collected much more money.
- I can't...
- Much... Ssh!...more money!
I can't collect
what they haven't got, Mr Casby.
The fact is, the rent you charge
is more than they can pay, most of 'em.
My dear man,
that's nothing to do with me.
My mind is on higher things.
Your job is to collect the rent,
and I expect you to do it.
- Well, well!
I think it must be teatime.
Well, well.
Miss Dorrit, is it?
Yes, sir.
Very good.
You make yourself comfortable,
Miss Dorrit...
...while you wait.
There you are, my dear,
so sorry to have kept you waiting,
have you been sitting there
in your bonnet all this time?
Pray, for goodness' sake,
let me take it off for you... There!
Oh, what a good little thing you are,
my dear!
Though anyone that interested
Arthur Clennam so much must interest me.
- Have you known him long?
- Not very long.
I met him when I was working
at Mrs Clennam's house.
Oh, Mrs Clennam!
Aren't you terribly frightened of her?
I know I was when Arthur and I
were childhood sweethearts
in the dear, dead days gone by without
recall, though the spark still remains,
and something rather more
than a spark, I like to fancy!
Ah!
Should I start my work now, ma'am?
Oh, you industrious little fairy,
there's not the slightest hurry for that,
and it's better that we begin
by being confidential
about our mutual friend, is it not?
But I can work and listen
at the same time.
I would feel more comfortable.
Truly, ma'am.
Oh, very well, whatever you like best!
Here!
Hem away! Hem away!
Now, where was I? Yes.
You must know,
and I am sure you do know,
that before I was introduced
to the late Mr F,
I was engaged to dear Arthur Clennam.
We were all in all to one another,
it was the morning of life,
it was bliss, it was frenzy,
till we were rent asunder by the Fates
and Arthur went to China
and I became the statue bride of Mr F.
But that was quite a long time ago,
wasn't it?
Not to me, you adorable little elf,
not to me!
To me, it is as if
it was only yesterday!
Ask me not if I love him still, or if he
still loves me, or what the end will be,
and wonder not if I should seem
comparatively cold to Arthur
or he should seem
comparatively cold to me,
surrounded as we are by watchful eyes.
Ssh!
Now I have told you all,
and for Arthur's sake I will always be
a friend to you, my dear girl,
and in Arthur's name
you may always rely upon me!
- I hope I didn't startle you.
- No.
I was just thinking about you.
I have been at Mrs Finching's
this afternoon,
and she talked a good deal about you.
She cares about you very much, I think.
Mmm.
I sometimes come here to think.
It seems unfeeling, somehow,
to be seeing the river and the sky,
and so much change and motion...
and then to go back, and find Father
in that same cramped place.
Well, you bring back the freshness
of the world with you.
That cheers him, I'm sure.
Do you think so?
Yes.
Yes, I do, Little Dorrit.
Er...I...
I had a talk with Mr Chivery today.
Er...
- He wanted to speak to me about his son.
- Oh. I wish he had not!
He made me promise
I would say something to you.
I know what these affairs
of the heart are like. How we...
how we hesitate.
There's someone I care about very much,
but I have held back
from declaring my love.
Not Mrs Finching?
No, no, no. Not Flora!
No, someone much younger than Flora.
You don't know her.
But this is not about me.
All I really wanted to say was
that if you love John Chivery...
if you truly do love him, then...
seize your chance of happiness.
You shouldn't sacrifice yourself
for your father's sake.
He'll be well looked after
whether you marry or not.
Please! Please, stop.
I don't love John.
Oh, I wish I could.
It distresses me to see him unhappy,
but I can't love him,
not in that way, not to be his wife.
And now everyone is unhappy,
or angry with me.
I wish you hadn't spoken to Mr Chivery.
I wish you hadn't spoken to me.
You will never hear another word from me
upon the subject, I promise you.
Thank you.
Are we still friends?
Yes.
Still friends.
Oi! Little Mother!
Maggy! You promised to stay near Father.
So I did, but he wouldn't let me.
- If he sends me out, I have to go.
- What did he send you out for?
It's a secret, you're not to know. I'm to
take two letters to so-and-so. That's you.
Come over here, where she can't see.
I see. All right, Maggy.
I'll take care of them.
Come, Maggy.
I had better go home. Goodbye.
Don't be distressed.
- I know what those letters were.
- They were nothing.
How can you and I be friends when
my family sponge upon you? Come, Maggy!
I thought I might look in on Fanny later -
get a pass for the show,
see what's what.
Might even take her out for supper
if I get what I'm expecting.
- A letter for you, Mr Dorrit.
- Oh, yes!
Very good of you to bring it up, Chivery.
Yes, it was, wasn't it?
Oh, yes.
Oh, very handsome, very gratifying.
Well, I'm blowed!
"Mr Clennam begs to be excused
from complying with your request."
How about that?
And he calls himself a gentleman!
He is nothing but a mean,
low-spirited sort of a fellow
and tight as an oyster!
Well, that's my evening spoilt.
Perhaps you phrased your request
in a less than appropriate manner, Edward.
Are you not ashamed of yourself, Tip?
Begging from a man you hardly know when
you are perfectly able to earn your bread?
No need to take that line with me, Amy.
As a matter of fact,
it's you who's letting us down,
going about like a little timid mouse,
and dressing like a skivvy.
You could at least put on
a bit of a show like the rest of us.
But I suppose you ain't got no pride.
How dare you speak like that to me?!
And how dare you insult a man
who is worth ten of you?!
Have you any idea who got your debts paid?
I love you, Tip,
but sometimes I am ashamed
to have you as my brother!
Excuse me, Father.
Don't let 'em see you crying,
Miss Dorrit. Dry your eyes.
Give me your hand.
It's all right, I'm a fortune teller.
I'm studying to be your good fairy, I am.
A life of toil.
What else are we made for?
But what's this?
Prison bars and a family
fallen on hard times.
But who is this
trying to look after them all?
It's you!
But the deuce of it is,
if this isn't Pancks the gypsy
in the corner here, seeing it all.
Now, what am I doing there, eh?
What is all that about?
Well, you shall live to see, Miss Dorrit.
You shall live to see.