Jane Eyre (1983) - Episode 6

BBC 1983 TV Mini-Series

Timothy Dalton ... Edward Rochester
Zelah Clarke ... Jane Eyre

You don't turn sick
at the sight of blood?

I think I should not. I
have never been tried yet.

Wait here.

I will do as you say, sir.

That was Grace Poole.

Here, Jane.

Mr. Mason!

The salts.

Is there any danger?

No, man. A mere scratch.

Don't be so overcome.

Bear up. I'll fetch a
surgeon for you myself.

We'll be able to remove
you by morning, I hope.

- Jane.
- Sir?

I must leave you in this
room with this gentleman

- for an hour, perhaps 2.
- Yes, sir.

Take the sponge.

Wipe away the blood
whenever it begins to flow.

If he feels faint, there's

a glass of water on that stand.

Put it to his lips and use the salts.

- Very well.
- You will not speak to him...

on any pretext.

Rochester.

Richard...

it will be at peril of your
life if you speak to her.

Open your lips, agitate yourself,

and I'll not be answerable
for the consequences.

Remember, not one word must be spoken.

Not one word.

Mr. Mason.

Mr. Mason.

Try to keep your eyes open. Try!

Now, Carter, be on the alert.

How is he?

Just breathing, sir.

Dress the wound. Bandage him properly.

But is he fit to move, sir?

He's got to be. I give you but

a half an hour to get him downstairs.

Look, it's nothing vital. Set to work.

How are you, Richard?

She's done for me, I fear.

No, not a whit. Courage, man.

You've lost a little blood, that's all.

Carter, assure him there's no danger.

Oh, I can do that truthfully,
sir, but how is this?

The flesh near the shoulder

here is torn as well as cut.

There are teeth marks here.

She bit like a tigress

when Rochester got the knife from her.

You shouldn't have yielded!

You should have grappled with her!

She looked so quiet at first.

I thought I could do some good.

You thought. You thought!

Well, you've suffered enough.

Carter, hurry.

I must have him off before sunrise.

I must look to this other wound, sir.

She's had her teeth here, too.

She sucked the blood.

She said she'd drain my heart.

Oh, come, Richard. Be silent, man.

Don't repeat her gibberish.

I cannot forget it.

You will when you're out of the country.

You may think of her as dead and buried.

Never.

Ah, have some energy, man.

You thought you were dead
as a herring 2 hours since.

You're alive.

I'll make you decent in a trice.

Doctor...

Jane, give me some water.

You must allow me the liberty
of administering my own medicine.

There, drink.

Drink.

But will it hurt me?

Drink, drink. Drink, Richard!

There. You'll be able to stand

with help in a few minutes.

Jane, get down to my room.

Open the wardrobe,
bring me a clean shirt.

Get Mason's cloak from his room.

Come back and tell me if
anybody is about. Be quick.

Keep him at your house
till he is quite well

Take care of him

I'll ride over in a few
days and see how he is.

How are you feeling now, Richard?

The fresh air revives me.

- Edward...
- What is it?

Let her be taken care of.

Let her be treated tenderly.

Let...

I do my best...

have done, and shall do.

It's been a strange night for you, Jane.

You look pale.

Were you afraid when
I left Mason with you?

I was afraid of something
in that other room.

I'd locked the door.

I'd have been a very careless
shepherd if I'd left a lamb...

my pet lamb... unguarded

so near a wolf's den.

Will Grace Poole live here still, sir?

Oh, yes.

Don't trouble yourself about her.

Put it out of your mind.

But your life is not
safe while she stays.

I'll take care of myself.

Is the danger you feared when

mr. Mason came gone by now, sir?

I cannot vouch till mr.
Mason is out of the coutry.

Nor even then.

To live, for me, Jane,

is to stand on a
crater-crust that may crack

and spew fire any day.

Now you look puzzled. And it's cold.

Not another word till
you've been nourished.

But, sir...

Do as you are told.

Brandy and biscuits will do.

No servants needed.

Now, Jane...

you are my little friend, are you not?

I like to serve you, sir,

and obey you in all that is right.

Precisely.

In all that is right. On that.

Well...

like Mason, you too
now have power over me.

You may injure me by speaking.

I dare not tell you more.

If you have no more
to fear from mr. Mason

than you have from me,
sir, you're very safe.

God grant it may be so.

Sit here. I want you by me.

What, you hesitate?

Would that be wrong, Jane?

Now, Jane, I'll put a case to you.

Suppose you were no longer a girl,

but a wild boy indulged from childhood.

Imagine yourself in
a remote foreign land.

Conceive that there you commit...

a capital error...

never mind what...

but one whose consequences

must follow you through life

and taint every hour of your existence.

An error?

An error. Not a crime.

No shedding of blood
or any other guilty act.

I speak of error.

Now, in time...

the consequences of what you have done

become utterly insupportable.

Hope has quitted you.

You seek relief in exile,

happiness in a heartless
sensual pleasure.

After years of wandering,
you come home...

heart-weary and
soul-withered.

And then you meet someone.

Never mind who or how.

And you find the goodness

you have sought for 20 years.

Such society revives, regenerates.

You long to recommence your life

in a way more worthy
of an immortal being.

Are you justified

to attain this end

in over-leaping an obstacle of custom?

A mere impediment of convention?

Is that person justified

in daring the world's opinion

to attach this gentle,
gracious life to his own?

No human can help as God can, sir.

But I have found the being, Jane.

You have noticed my tender penchant

for miss Blanche Ingram.

Do you not think if I married her

she would regenerate
me with a vengeance?

Yes, sir.

To you I can talk of my lovely one,

for now you have seen her.

Yes, sir.

She is a rare one,

is she not, Jane?

Yes, sir.

A strapper.

A real strapper.

It seems a fine enough morning.

It will be when the sun is well up.

Leave later.

And so you've already
dined with your pupil?

Yes. She will spend the rest

of the afternoon with her nurse.

Excuse me, miss.

I must go and find my husband.

There's someone to see you, miss,

in miss Fairfax's room.

Oh. Thank you, John.

I daresay you hardly remember me, miss,

but my name is Leaven.

Robert! How do you do?

You're married to Bessie. How is she?

She's very hearty, thank you, miss,

and so are the children. We have 3 now.

Oh. But the family at the house...

well, they're very
badly... in great trouble.

Your aunt, mrs. Reed, is very ill.

You see, mr. John, your cousin,

he died a week yesterday in London.

Bessie told me he was
ruining his health.

They say he killed himself.

The news of mr. John's
death and the manner of it,

it came too suddenly for the missus.

She'd borne too much
already. it brought on a stroke.

Will she live?

All I know is
she was three days without speaking

but then she kept
trying to say something

kept making signs to my wife
and mumbling.

Well, it was only yesterday morning

Bessie made out she
was saying your name...

"Bring me Jane. fetch Jane Eyre.

I want to speak to her."

If you can get ready, miss,

I should like to take you back with me.

Yes, Robert. I shall go.

Aye, Bessie said you would.

I shall have to ask for leave first.

I'll do that now.

Oh, I have no end of mystifications.

Try your wits on this one.

Come in.

Now, mr. Rochester, take any card.

Mr. Rochester, I'm
sorry to have intruded.

That person appears to want you.

Does she?

Miss Eshton, kindly oblige miss Ingram

by taking a card?

If you ladies will excuse me.

Well, Jane?

If you please, sir, I
want a leave of absence

for a week or 2.

What to do? Where to go?

To see a sick lady who has sent for me.

What sick lady?

Where does she live?

Gateshead, sir.

Well, that's a hundred miles off.

Who may she be that she sends for people

to see her at that distance?

Her name is Reed, sir. Mrs. Reed.

Reed of Gateshead?

There was a Reed of
Gateshead, a magistrate.

It is his widow, sir. Mr.
Reed was my mother's brother.

It's miles off.

Yes, sir, but I shall go.

And how long will you stay?

As short a time as possible...

Promise me you will only stay a week.

I had better not give my word.

I might be obliged to break it.

But you will come back?

You won't let them
persuade you to stay there?

I'll of course return if all be well.

And who goes with you?

You can't go all that way on your own.

The coachman, sir. His
wife keeps the lodge.

They're old friends.

When do you wish to leave?

As soon as I am packed, sir.

Well, you'll need some money.

I've given you no salary.

How much have you in the world, Jane?

5 shillings, sir.

Here.

It is 50 pounds, sir.

You owe me but 15. I have no change.

I don't want change.

Right. Right.

Here...

is 2, 3, 4, 5,

6, 8, 10.

Is it enough?

Yes, sir. But now you owe me 5.

Come back for it, then.

Mr. Rochester.

I think this a proper time
to mention another matter.

I'm curious to hear it.

You have as good as informed me

that you shortly to be married.

Yes.

What then?

In that case, sir, Adele
ought to go to school.

To get her out of my bride's way,

who might otherwise walk over her?

There's sense in that.

And you, Jane?

I must seek another
situation elsewhere, sir.

You must?

With the help of your family, I suppose?

No, sir. I am not on
such terms with them.

I shall advertise.

You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!

I wish I had not given
you that money now, Jane.

Give me back 9 pounds.
Look, I've a use for it.

So have I, sir.

You little niggard.

Well, give me 5 pounds, then.

Not 5 shillings, nor 5 pence, sir.

Just let me look at the money.

No, sir. You are not to be trusted.

Promise me you won't advertise.

Look, if you want a situation,

I'll find you one in time.

I shall be glad to, sir...

if you, in your turn, will promise

that I and Adele shall both
be safe out of the house

before your bride enters it.

I'll give you my word on it.

So...

you're off, then?

Yes.

Then it seems that you
and I must bid good-bye

for a little while.

How do people perform
that ceremony, Jane?

Teach me. I'm not quite up to it.

They say, "farewell,"

or any form they prefer.

Then say it.

Farewell, mr. Rochester...

for the present.

Farewell, miss Eyre...

for the present.

Is that all?

Yes.

So...

you'll do no more than
say farewell, Jane?

It is enough, sir.

Very likely.

But it is blank and cool.

"Farewell."

How do you do, miss Eyre?

I am very well, thank you, cousin Eliza.

I hope you are well.

How do you do, miss Eyre?

I trust the journey was tolerable.

It was, indeed, thank
you, cousin Georgiana.

May I sit down?

Oh, do.

I hear mrs. Reed has rallied a little.

Oh, mama, you mean.

She is extremely poorly.

I doubt if you can see her tonight.

If you would just step
upstairs and tell her I am here,

I should be much obliged to you.

I know she had a
particular desire to see me,

and I would not wish
to keep her waiting.

Mama dislikes being
disturbed in the evening.

I shall just step out to Bessie

and ask her to ascertain whether

mrs. Reed is disposed to receive me.

Excuse me.

It is I, aunt Reed.

Who? Who are you?

Aunt?

Who calls me aunt?

Oh. I know you.

You are like Jane Eyre.

I am Jane.

You sent Bessie for me.

I am very ill...

I know.

I was trying to turn myself

a few minutes since.

I cannot move a limb.

It is as well...

I should ease my mind before I die.

What one thinks little of in life

burdens us at such an hour as this.

Is there no one in the room but you?

We are alone, aunt.

Well...

I have twice done you a wrong

which I regret now.

One was in breaking the promise

I gave my husband to bring
you up as my own child.

The other...

anyhow...

perhaps it is of no great importance.

Oh. I may get better.

To humble myself to her is painful.

Oh. Well...

I must get it over.

Eternity is before me.

I had better tell you.

Behind you is my dressing case.

Open it.

You will see a letter there.

Read it.

"Madam, will you
please have the goodness

"to send me the address
of my niece, Jane Eyre,

"and tell me how she is?

"It is my intention to write shortly

and desire to her to
come to me at Madeira."

"Providence has blessed

my endeavors to secure a competency,

"and as I am unmarried and childless,

"I wish to adopt her during my life

"and bequeath her at my death

"whatever I may have to leave.

"I am, madam, yours very faithfully.

John Eyre, Madeira."

Why did I never hear of this?

It is dated 3 years back.

Because I disliked you too much

ever to help you to prosperity.

I could not forget your
conduct to me, Jane,

when you turned on me in such fury

and declared that you abhorred me

worse than anybody in the world.

You frightened me.

Oh... bring me some water.

Oh... oh, make haste.

Please... think no more of it.

Let it pass from your mind.

Forgive me. I was a
child. It was 9 years ago.

I tell you I could not forget it

and I took my revenge.

I wrote to your uncle.

I said Jane Eyre was dead.

She died of the typhus at Lowood.

Now act as you please.

Write and contradict my assertions.

Expose my falsehood as soon as you can.

You were born to be my torment.

My last hour is racked
by the memory of a deed

which, but for you,

I should never have
been tempted to commit.

If you could be persuaded
to think no more of it, aunt,

and to regard me with
kindness and forgiveness...

You have a very bad disposition.

My disposition is not
so bad as you think.

I am passionate, but not vindictive.

Many times as a child,
I wanted to love you

if you'd have let me.

Don't bend over me.

You oppress me.

Love me, then, or hate me,

as you wish.

You have my free and full forgiveness.

Ask now for God's and be at peace.

Bessie? Bessie, she's in a stupor!

Oh, I cannot. I cannot.

With her constitution,

she could have lived to a good old age.

Her life was shortened by trouble.