(symphonic theme music playing) (music continues) (soft classical music playing) ♪ ♪ (sighs) ♪ ♪ (upbeat music playing) Four yards of the blue silk.

Clemence: Blue?

Why blue?

From now on everything must be scarlet and black.

(speaks French) Mademoiselle Clemence!

But you're asking... (continues in French) I answer, "Because of the passion that has taken Paris by storm and sweeps all before it."

Hazard.

France is giddy with infatuation.

We play to see what we will wear today.

Who will we marry today?

What do you say, madame?

Will you hazard with me?

If you win, it is the blue.

If I win, you will try the scarlet.

Sam, you're my good luck.

Call a number between five and nine.

Seven.

Then I say I will cast seven.

(Clemence gasps) Quelle malchance!

Sam, we lose.

Madame will take the blue.

But please, not four yards only.

Skirts will be very full next season.

You have it from the lips of Paris.

I'll take six yards of the blue and the scarlet.

(peppy music playing) And where can I get those dice?

Clemence!

At The Paradise, madame.

Only at The Paradise.

(laughs) Moray, mon cher.

Not that I'm not delighted to see you.

Why are you here?

Didn't you hear, darling?

I bring you the fever that is sweeping all Paris.

You bring me dice that can be bought at any French port for five sous apiece.

And where did you pick them up?

Calais?

Clemence: Paris was becoming uncomfortable.

Moray: Oh, dear.

That doesn't sound good.

Clemence: It is true what they say.

Hell knows no fury like a woman scorned.

Her tantrums and tears were insupportable.

I wanted a change of scene quickly.

Et voila.

(chuckles) Clemence, you are incorrigible.

These?

These are clever.

How many did you bring?

As many as I could fit into my valise.

I'll take them all.

Of course.

(chuckles) Now, tell me, how are all my friends?

How is Denise?

Yeah, she is, she's very well.

She's... She's, uh, Head of Ladieswear.

Oh, no, John.

What has happened?

You and Denise, you were made for each other.

(stutters) She didn't think that we could, uh... (clears throat) Actually, Clemence, do you mind if we don't?

Denise: And you're sure it was her?

Mm-hmm.

Large as life and twice as French.

She's in with Mr. Moray now if you wanna see her.

I have to get back.

I'm sure I'll find her later.

My feelings exactly.

Women, unfathomable.

She loves him, she won't go near him.

Whoa.

You alright?

(grunts) This place takes people like that sometimes.

Let's get the weight off your feet.

Here.

Here.

Paradise.

(exhales) It is Paradise.

(chuckles) Not for everyone.

Not for everyone.

♪ ♪ Clemence!

I'm so happy to see you.

And I you, cherie.

But what is it I hear you and Moray breaking each other's hearts.

Why?

We do not want the same thing.

He wants you.

You want him.

Not in the same way.

I am his most prized possession.

You would be loved as you yourself love.

Yes.

But what if that is not possible?

Then...

I shall have to learn to live with a broken heart.

(light classical music playing) Susy: It is her.

It is!

(laughs) Oh, we'll go out again like last time, just the girls, to the Three Crowns?

But without question.

We four et la merveilleuse Myrtle.

But that is for later.

Now I have a gift for Denise.

And not just for Denise, for Ladieswear.

Whatever I tell them downstairs, this is the true vogue in Paris today.

Rouge.

Clemence: Only the very boldest dare wear it.

But even those who dare not, buy it, in case one day they should find the courage.

Women who paint their faces are not nice.

They work on the street.

Exactement.

So when madame walks into a salon with her face painted thus, and her head her high, she's telling the world, "I am who I say I am.

Let no one else dare to define me."

It is a gauntlet thrown at the feet of polite society.

This is not Paris.

But if there is anyone who can sell Paris here, it is you, Denise.

So these are not just a gift, they are a challenge.

Your purchases will be waiting for you at the parcels desk.

Uh, as to the hazard dice you were inquiring after, I believe they'll be with us later today.

Hazard... a few hours ago, nobody's heard of the game.

Now, I suppose that's the thing with a craze, eh?

Eh?

(tense music playing) Arthur.

Arthur.

Arthur, find Mr. Moray and tell him to come and tell him to come now.

But I'm helping Mademoiselle Clemence with her dice.

The dice can wait.

This cannot.

(dramatic music playing) Katherine: You were up early this morning.

I was woken by a caller.

A caller?

On a false errand.

The person he sought does not live here.

But by happy accident, I was able to do some business with him myself.

Is that damson jelly?

Perfect.

Is that why you're in such a jolly mood?

Sometimes, Flora, life seems full of possibility and promise.

Apparently Mademoiselle Romanis has returned to The Paradise.

Clemence?

♪ ♪ I thought her in France.

An impromptu visit, I believe.

I shall make sure to give her your best.

Who is he?

I don't know.

He looked tired so I offered him a seat, the next thing I know is... What is it?

-Arthur: He's a sailor.

-Moray: Yes.

But not an English one.

That's French.

And this is French tailoring.

The best.

Did he sound foreign?

I only heard him say three words.

Mr. Moray, sir.

A French sailor with a taste for fine tailoring and the annual salary of a working man in his pocket.

Tom: Quite a mystery.

Ah, Mr. Weston.

Tom: Dudley told me.

I met him this morning.

He came to the hall.

He'd been misdirected.

Uh, who is he?

He didn't give a name.

Imagine a small group of customers.

Handpicked.

Women who feel they can lead fashion -rather than be led by it.

-Clara: Hmm.

Now imagine a corner of Ladieswear dressed as a boudoir.

The woman who inhabits it has just stepped out and may return at any moment.

Her scent lingers in the air.

On the dressing table, a bottle of perfume.

We imagine her dabbing it on her wrists, her neck.

There's an evening stole, a fan, a dance card.

And in the middle, a beautiful pot of rouge.

Beside it, a woman's necklace carelessly cast aside, tangled and tumbled with a man's cufflinks.

Denise, may I be excused to get a glass of cold water?

I'm feeling awfully strange.

Clara: A glass of cold water?

Cold bath, more like.

If that doesn't sell it, nothing will.

The parish will take him and bury him.

Because his identity is not known, it must be in an unmarked grave.

That's a pauper's burial.

That man had money.

An unmarked grave in an unknown land.

I would not wish so solitary an end on anyone.

Mademoiselle Clemence.

If he's recently come from France, she may have encountered him on her journey.

She may even have met him.

Though perhaps it's not proper to show a woman a deceased person.

Oh, I feel sure Mademoiselle Clemence would be equal to the task.

Don't you, Moray?

No.

I've never seen him before.

I'm sorry.

Moray: Not at all, Clemence.

(Moray clears throat) We appreciate your trying.

Dudley: We could use his money to buy a plot and pay for a burial.

Headstone can come later if his identity is ever learned.

Find somewhere to put him until arrangements can be made.

Moray can't be expected to share his office with a corpse.

(pensive music playing) Flora: I love the river when it's like this.

Don't you?

♪ ♪ All deep and still and quiet as if it were asleep.

Mrs. Weston, have a care.

You might slip.

The ground is dangerous here.

Katherine: I don't know what happened.

I was feeling faint in the water.

I'm very grateful to you.

I have walked by that river many times when my thoughts have been turbulent.

I walked there this morning for that reason.

I fear I have... nothing.

Everything I had, I cast away.

It is lost.

Jonas: You have the child.

I have her on sufferance only.

He can take her from me.

He will take her from me.

I have destroyed everything I set out to protect.

I'd hurt those that I sought to shield.

I am become the harm I feared.

And yet today you are my salvation.

Then there is hope for both of us.

My husband was a soldier.

He has suffered as other men have not.

He has wounds, terrible wounds.

His back laid open by swords.

And he bears this pain alone... in secret.

I thought once to be his comfort.

You make me believe such a thing could yet be possible.

(door opens) Mama, will you come?

I've made a daisy chain.

Oh, of course, my darling.

(sighs) Only I do...

I do feel so strange.

Have you that grown-up sickness again, Mama?

It is so long since you had it last.

Weeks and weeks.

(somber music playing) The powder is so light.

It requires the softest touch.

A dusting on the lips and on the cheeks... like the flush of love.

Or the first time you looked in a glass and knew you were beautiful.

The effect is... lovely, (sighs) ...but it is impossible.

A painted face?

My husband would never allow it.

Perhaps your husband would not know.

He thinks such preparations gaudy and brash.

This is sweet and delicate and gentle... like a kiss on your skin.

Moray: Denise, I'm sorry to interrupt.

It makes no difference.

They weren't going to buy.

How can I help?

Uh, I have a favor to ask concerning your uncle's shop.

We do not know his name or who his people might be.

But I wish for him to be buried with the care and consideration I would give a friend, but until arrangements can be made, uh, he needs a place to rest.

My uncle's keys are inside.

-(rattles) -(keys jingle) You could have come in.

(sighs) Thank you.

We should at least try to find a way of being normal with each other.

(sighs) Denise, I, um...

It is hard for me even to be near you at the moment, but to be in the same room, be so close and not be able to touch you...

I will learn, I'm sure.

I will learn.

Just... not yet.

(dramatic music playing) There she is!

Clemence: Myrtle!

Don't tell me.

New bustier.

You look magnificent.

(chuckles) You see?

Women dress for other women because other women notice.

Oh, we shall have a night of it tonight.

It's women only, lads.

It is women only.

Small mercies.

Unless you prefer an evening with the gentleman.

See one of them at least has his eye on you.

This is what I give for an evening with a gentleman.

-(Myrtle scoffs) -(Clemence speaks French) I don't know what she's saying, but I like the way she says it!

(all laugh) So what is it to be?

The Three Crowns and perhaps a little dinner?

A little dancing?

Tom: Mademoiselle Romanis, I wonder, might I beg the favor of a word?

It is delightful to see you back.

Clemence: Oh, I'm delighted to be back.

And delighted I'm sure to have escaped all that unpleasantness in Paris.

(tense music playing) An acquaintance of yours called at the Hall this morning under the mistaken impression he would find you with us.

I had to disappoint him, but we got talking.

Now, he said he was... Oh, what was the word he used?

Ah, yes.

A sangsue.

A blood sucker.

Though I believe "debt collector" is the more common term.

What do you want?

Oh, I already have what I want.

My debts.

He sold them to you?

I'm only sorry he never got to enjoy his ill-gotten gains.

What will you do with them?

Well, I thought we might discuss that over dinner.

Of course, you will have to tell your... friends that you're now unavailable.

Tomorrow.

Please.

But I am hungry now.

I'm sorry.

I had forgotten a prior engagement.

(dramatic music playing) Katherine: I was wondering what your plans were for this evening.

I'm dining out.

What a shame.

It has been so long since we dined together.

Too long.

Do you remember when we were first married, how you would send the servants away in the evening?

You would sit by me and pour my wine.

I do.

I do remember.

You were so tender yet so... withheld.

I thought I had a lifetime to fathom the secrets in your eyes.

But then we came here... and I learned the secret had a name.

Moray.

And little by little, I watched as his nearness turned your tenderness to anguish.

I don't doubt you've endured the destruction of your dreams.

We have that in common at least.

But do not, do not insult the hopes I once cherished by trying now to resurrect what you so thoroughly laid to waste.

I have found someone else to comfort me.

I no longer need you.

(somber music playing) (door opens) (door closes) If only it weren't so red.

I think you'll find the clue's in the name.

You're just gonna have to admit defeat on this one, Denise.

Denise: Oh, but it's gorgeous.

It feels like silk when you brush it on.

It even smells divine.

What's that?

Mm, otto of roses.

How do you know it's otto of roses?

Otto of roses, white starch, a bit of carmine for the color.

I'm a cook.

I know what goes in most things by smelling them.

My mother now, she had a nose like a blood hound.

Made her own preparations too.

She'd a cream would turn your skin to satin.

Face like an old boot, God rest her, but to touch, oh, you have never known anything so soft.

And do you know what she put in these creams?

I know what she put in, just don't know much.

Kept her quantities close to her chest.

Myrtle, how do you feel about a little after-hours experimenting?

We need the water hotter if you want the spermaceti to melt this time.

It's already burning my hands.

Beauty comes at a price.

Now the rose water and the oils.

Slowly.

(sighs) To think I could be at the pub.

Stop.

Now into the cold water.

♪ ♪ Perfect.

Not quite.

Myrtle: What are you doing?

The scent of roses and the faintest hint... of a blush.

-(chuckles) -Myrtle, you are beautiful.

-Oh, you-- -I know, I know.

And before you say it, I deserve every word.

But what if I told you that tomorrow night is my very last night of freedom and that I have come to ask you all to spend it with me?

What are you talking about?

I was not honest with Moray about my reasons for leaving France.

There were debts.

Prison if I could not pay, and I could not.

So I ran.

But someone came after me.

I don't blame him.

He was doing his job.

He sold my debts to Tom Weston.

And now Weston gives me a choice.

Become his mistress or face prison.

Oh, no, please.

I don't want your pity.

I want your company.

Tomorrow night at The Three Crowns.

Won't you come and drink with me?

I bloody will.

Bloody need a bloody drink after that.

(door bells jingle) (door closes) His last night above ground.

I didn't think he should spend it alone.

Death raises questions about life, about... purpose.

If we're gonna talk about life, death, and purpose, I'm gonna need another drink.

Luckily, I know where Edmund keeps his brandy.

(Sam clears throat) ♪ ♪ -(door opens) -(door bells jingle) Saw the light.

Oh, welcome to the party.

Huh.

It is a vigil.

With refreshments.

♪ ♪ I want to know what potion the three of you brewing like witches last night.

Myrtle's mother's cream, which Denise has tinted with your rouge.

A secret between you and your skin.

(Clemence gasps) I could take this to any shop in any city in the world and by tomorrow there will be queues in the street.

You are a genius.

No, I mean it.

You are a genius, but not in love.

Why, with all your flair and passion and élan, why cannot you and him find a way to be together?

Clemence, please.

Please don't make it any harder.

I'm sorry, cherie.

It is just that I must believe in love now more than ever.

I must believe that Tom Weston's way is not the only way.

And that love, real love, can triumph.

I shall have to speak to Edmund about the quality of his brandy.

I am carrying quite a head this morning.

At least he was not alone.

See, I don't know why you think this man's death was such a sad and solitary affair.

If I had to venture an opinion, I'd say he died happy.

"It is Paradise."

He looked about, that's what he said.

Perhaps he could already see something you couldn't.

Or perhaps he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Just happy.

What would it take to be so fulfilled?

Every man has to decide for himself what it is that makes life worth living.

And if a man loses the things that makes his life worth living, what then?

That would depend on the man.

(Moray sighs) I've lost the Paradise.

I've lost Denise.

Every day the pain gets worse.

Moray, I've never been the one with the answers.

Dudley.

(sighs) I am... lost.

I'm asking you.

You're my closest friend.

What would you have me do?

Very well.

I would not have you as you are now.

As you have been these past weeks.

Resigned, accepting, defeated.

I would have you fight.

-Fight on.

-With what?

I have nothing.

You have everything you started with.

(scoffs) Dudley, that was nothing.

Exactly.

Come on.

Time to go home.

No, please.

Please stay.

It is so mournful to drink alone.

We're not leaving you.

You're coming with us.

I am?

(patrons chattering) (playful music playing) But I have agreed to meet Tom Weston.

I have to give him my answer.

Clara: You have to lie down first.

♪ ♪ Denise: We can't let this happen, Clara.

We can't.

Jonas, I...

I couldn't sleep.

Nor I.

So many comings and goings.

How is Mademoiselle Romanis?

She's... (sighs) She's in trouble.

Mr. Weston has acquired letters of promise that she is unable to honor and he is using them to coerce her into... an arrangement.

And you would seek to help her?

Denise: I can't stand by and watch.

Then I will come with you.

No, Jonas.

I'm truly grateful, but what Mr. Weston would see as a plea coming from a woman, he would see as a challenge coming from a man.

Then you must go armed.

Tom Weston has a secret.

The pain of it and the shame of it are what drives him.

And it'll also be the undoing of him.

I don't understand.

He was a young officer in the Indian Mutiny.

The city of Delhi was besieged.

Many men died.

Tom Weston survived a hero, but he had secret wounds.

Sword cuts to his back, as if he had tried to run and was set upon by one of his own.

You can't know that.

I know men.

Tom Weston is a man in torment.

He is a man who made himself one terrible day and despises the coward he finds himself to be.

Do you understand, Denise?

That is why he looks for comfort, for escape, to lose himself within another.

Because the pain of who he is is so unendurable to him.

I want you to use this knowledge as a weapon against him.

You must use it as you will.

(dramatic music playing) Denise?

You're waiting for Mademoiselle Romanis.

She's at The Paradise, indisposed.

I'm her messenger.

Has she reached a decision?

She accepts your proposal.

But I wish you would reconsider.

There are some feelings which are so unendurable we would do anything to escape them.

But we cannot, we can only distract ourselves for a while.

If I could buy my way out of the ache in my heart, I would.

But some things cannot be bought.

And to try to buy that which can only be given freely would be a comfortless thing.

Did Mademoiselle Romanis send you here to negotiate with me?

No, I act for myself.

You're a daring strategist for a shop girl.

And you are a good businessman for a soldier.

That woman's life for a few debts?

That's a hard bargain.

(laughs) -Sir... -(Tom gasps sharply) -(winces) -Mr. Weston!

Sir?

(sighs deeply) I'm sorry.

I have wounds.

Old wounds.

(panting) From India?

(suspenseful music playing) What do you know of India?

Nothing.

I... You cannot spend a lifetime punishing yourself for a moment's lapse driven by fear.

But don't you see?

Nor can you escape it by punishing another.

You dare to tell me what can and cannot be?

You dare presume to know me?

You tell Mademoiselle Romanis to be ready.

You tell her I am coming for her.

(dramatic music playing) Jonas: Mr. Weston.

Jonas.

Turn back, sir.

Go home to your family.

No one will ever know what passed here.

You came here with Denise.

I did.

Though she did not know it.

You.

It was you who told her.

(Tom laughs) How long did it take you to piece my story together?

Watching from the shadows, listening at doors.

You spoke to me as a friend.

You let me believe you were my man.

I serve The Paradise.

I am The Paradise!

No, sir, you are not.

And I will not allow you to avenge yourself on those who are.

Get out of my way.

(dramatic music continues) Get out of my way!

(grunts) (footsteps approaching) My luggage?

We collected it from the hotel.

I don't understand.

There's enough in there for a train to the port and a ticket on the boat.

France means prison.

I can't go back.

Boat to America.

Money.

This is your money.

I can't take it.

You can and you will.

I went to Tom Weston.

I tried to make things better and I made them so much worse.

But he will know I had help.

He will know who helped me.

There are other places to work.

I'm not sure we could carry on anyway, knowing what he was doing to you.

Moray: Knowing he was doing what to whom?

(Flora crying) Flora, my darling, what is it?

Was it a bad dream?

It is not a dream.

Papa will send you away.

He will send you away and I will be alone.

Flora, listen to me.

We belong to each other now.

Do you understand?

All of us.

We belong to each other and we will be together.

Come.

What are we doing?

Are you brave enough to venture out into such a black night?

I'm never scared with you.

That is because you make me brave.

And when you are with me, there is no one in the world stronger than I am.

There.

Denise: He's coming for her.

If she's going to get away, she has to go now.

Clara: You can say you saw nothing, sir.

-Denise: Please, John.

-He cannot do this.

He cannot own you.

You're not... You're not his possession.

Mademoiselle Romanis.

Denise, Clara.

She didn't know.

The noise woke her.

She tried to stop us.

Go, Clara.

(eerie music playing) You should have reined her in while you had the chance, Moray.

Your creature, your little champion.

She is not my anything.

She's her own.

As is Clemence.

Oh, no.

Mademoiselle Romanis is bought and paid for.

Her debts are bought and paid for.

Give me 24 hours.

I'll find the money.

I'll buy them back.

They are not for sale.

Then...

I'll play you for them.

Hazard.

You would need a stake and you have nothing that I want.

You want me gone.

If I win, you'll return Clemence's debts to her.

If you win...

I go.

Where?

Away.

Away from The Paradise, the city, the country.

-No.

-Moray-- And you will not return?

I will not return.

You have my word.

Very well.

But let us dispense with the notion that this is a game.

One throw each.

Highest roll wins.

♪ ♪ (intense dramatic music playing) (dice clatter) (music continues) (Moray sighs) (dice clatter) (music intensifies) Clemence.

Merci.

Your past is none of my affair, but your actions today, they were the work of a true coward.

Wait.

I will play you again.

I will play you for The Paradise.

Department by department.

And my stake?

The same every time.

Your exile.

Or are you too much the coward to risk so much?

John, please don't.

This is not brave.

This is insane.

You'd have to win every throw.

-Every throw.

-Denise.

I had The Paradise, I had you.

I've lost them both.

Don't you see?

I have nothing more to lose.

(somber music playing) (fast-paced dramatic music playing) The Great Hall.

The Great Hall.

(music continues) I've come for my husband.

He's inside with Moray.

They're playing dice for The Paradise.

(dice clatter) (music continues) (chuckles softly) Two in a row.

But your luck will not hold.

It cannot.

You have lost half your shop.

Would you really rather bring down your own world than see him prosper just a little?

Tom: Your cast.

Get out.

Throw.

-Not before the child.

-Throw!

Not before the child!

Flora, go with Denise.

Miss Flora, have you ever seen The Paradise at nighttime?

I did once... have a dream of Moray.

But I promise you... that dream is dead.

I am free of it.

(soft piano music playing) There was a kindness between us once.

Could we not look for it again?

That dream is also dead.

Then we must make a new dream... for Flora's sake.

And the sake of the child that is coming.

(dramatic music playing) Come home.

I will send away the servants and I will sit beside you.

And we will talk.

Let me be your comfort now.

♪ ♪ This is like a secret world.

If I lived here, I would wander around all night.

-Do you?

-I used to.

I thought you would lose.

I thought I would lose you.

What would you have done?

Followed.

To hear you say those things and know that you meant them.

You don't know how much I've longed for that.

You are my equal and more.

I look at you now and I see myself.

That is how I know you will never be content in my shadow.

It is not my Paradise you need.

It is your own.

No.

I want you.

I want to work with you and grow with you.

It's yours.

Everything I won from Weston, I give you gladly, freely, with all my heart.

Yours.

Sweetheart, don't you see?

You will never be happy.

You will never be happy with me until you've built something that is yours and yours alone.

But to do that, I'd have to go.

I'd have to leave you.

Yes, you would.

You will.

I would rather see you walk away than keep you beside me only to watch the light go out of your eyes.

(sighs) I love you too much.

(somber music playing) ♪ ♪ Jonas.

Is it over, sir?

Yes, it's...

It's over.

(indistinct chatter) (uplifting music playing) Arthur, I need you to deliver this and bring the answer back as fast as you can.

-Can you do that?

-Yes.

(music continues) (somber music playing) Clara, take charge.

(uplifting music playing) (music continues) My uncle's shop.

But not as a drapery anymore.

As a beauty emporium with creams for the complexion and oils and powders and scented balms.

Mr. Ballantine has agreed to invest in me.

He will be my backer.

And I will be here.

(laughs) I will be here.

And when I've made my name... Not your fortune?

Both.

I will come to you and ask you most humbly... if you will do me the honor of becoming my husband.

-Will you say yes?

-Yes.

-Do you promise?

-Yes.

Yes.

(romantic orchestral music playing) (music continues) (music continues)