Good to be home?
Always.
Happy birthday, Mrs Harte.
Martha! Hello.
My, you always do your hair so beautifully!
Jerry! God! The drama!
- What is this? - Just a friendly lunch?
Or are we basically birthday hostages?
Bloody clever of her.
Is she going to have us all shot?
In my experience, my lady,
your mother always does what needs to be done.
That's not particularly reassuring, Jerry.
I mean, I...
? Happy birthday to you
? Happy birthday, dear Mother
? Happy birthday to you! ?
That's touching.
Now, are all the traitors present?
Good.
So, let's get started, shall we?
*CREDITS*
At ease.
May I?
Mac, isn't it?
You used to work at Fairley Hall.
That's right.
- I'm Edwin Fair... - I know...
who you are.
Would I have seen you at the front? At Festubert?
Eight months of senseless fighting. But that one was...
a grim night.
So, off home, then?
Officially, it's medical discharge.
But not all wounds can be bandaged.
- You? - Leave.
To see my pregnant wife.
- Congratulations. - And also...
Emma Harte,
who I expect you remember.
You're going to see Emma?
That's right.
She's plenty of space for visitors in her big house.
And you will...
see Emma's family... while you're there?
For your information,
Emma's husband, Joe Lowther...
he didn't make it.
I'm...
sorry to hear that.
Emma doesn't need your sympathies.
She's managed just fine without anything from you.
Well...
Good luck to you.
It was a grim night.
At Festubert.
A grim night.
Is all... well?
Two of everything.
They just thought I needed to come home.
Well...
here you are.
My God! Edwin!
Father looks dreadful.
At least he's out of bed today.
Is there a problem?
It's money. Money's the problem.
He owes left, right and centre.
The house is up for sale.
What? Why?
He won a huge uniform contract from some old school friend.
But he over-promised.
Emma Harte has our mill, and he's run out of favours,
so there's absolutely no way he can fulfil the order.
But it'll be better now you're back.
Why?
Well... Because now all this will be down to you.
Anyway, look, you didn't come here to see me.
Priya!
No, please... don't.
Aunt Olivia,
I've been thinking that...
for both our sakes, mine and Priya's...
I ought to just set her free.
I'll be closing up for good
if I don't go heavier on people not paying bills.
I'll have to start sending telegrams to those that owe us.
And if they can't, I'll have to start charging interest.
No choice. I need to...
You're here!
So, a baby.
Never had one of those before, have you?
Our mill isn't the only thing Emma Harte has
that belongs to you.
Who does she think she is?
So...
How was it?
France.
Much camaraderie, is there,
between you and the lads?
I've... sung a song or two.
So why did they send you home?
Because it's not all singing.
It's made me think about what we leave behind.
I'd like the people that come after us...
our children, grandchildren...
to at least know we were here.
I suppose...
the main thing we'll leave, all of us, is...
our name.
And this house.
Oh, yes.
Not if Father can't hang on to it, we won't.
Emma Harte has a lot to answer for.
What if Emma Harte isn't just the cause of our problems?
What if she's the solution?
I think I've got the answer.
You know...
I saw him once.
Joe.
In France?
I came round a corner one night and there he was.
Helmet pushed back...
rifle on his knee,
with a photo of you... in his hand.
Are you just saying that?
No. It was Joe.
He'd hauled himself up on a box of corned beef.
No time to eat it, he said,
but he could at least keep his arse dry on it.
And then...
everything... started up again...
the shooting, and...
I lost track of him.
Can I tell you something?
Anything.
When I got the telegram,
we were in the hall and I saw Laura's face.
And I knew.
I just knew that it was bad news.
And I thought...
It's OK. I know.
You miss him. I know.
No, you don't.
You don't know.
Let me say it.
I knew that it was bad news.
And I thought...
that it was you.
I did.
And I couldn't breathe, Mac.
But then she showed it to me.
And I saw that it was addressed to me and not her...
and that inside it said his name.
Joe Lowther.
And I was relieved.
Is that the worst thing you ever heard?
Poor Joe...
I was desperate, of course. I couldn't bear that it was him.
But my first thought when I saw his name was...
"Oh, thank God.
"Thank God it's not Mac."
I understand.
I do.
Because we're the same...
aren't we?
So... I'll always understand.
Corned beef?
I have an assistant today, Mrs Grisham. Aren't I lucky?
And look, we've packs here for fruitcake,
which you can make with barely any fat and not one egg.
I'm calling it War Cake.
Oh, my girls will eat cake all day long if you'd let 'em.
No eggs, you say? How much butter?
I can't see how it'd bind...
Mrs Harte?
I... I have to close up for a while, Mrs Grisham.
Take one of the packs of cake ingredient
and let me know what Jean and Barbara think.
Well, thank you.
Bye-bye, Edwina. Have fun helping your mam.
Bye-bye.
Hello.
Edwina?
Edwina, why don't you go upstairs, love,
sort through that box of buttons, see which you like best?
I'm allowed?
Course. Go on up. Go on.
Well, I've broken an oath, then.
I swore I'd never see you again for as long as I lived.
We all make promises we can't keep.
Shop's usually busier than this.
But there's a war on, I don't know if you've heard.
I did.
I'm so sorry, Emma.
I heard about your husband.
Did you hear about all the husbands? It's not just mine.
Well, you'll have seen for yourself.
Emma...
All this, it's...
a miracle.
Everything you wanted.
Your plan, with a capital P.
That's right. I'm a success.
And what are you, Edwin Fairley?
A fool.
An idiot, coward. Does that cover it?
Hardly.
Emma...
Every bit of hatred you feel for me...
all the resentment, the bitterness, the anger...
I felt it for myself, I promise you, every day.
And not a moment's passed
where I haven't wished I could go back...
to that rose garden...
and say something different.
Like what?
Like, "Marry me."
Like, "It'll be all right." Like, "I'll take care of you,
"I'll make sure nobody hurts you."
Like, "I love you, Emma.
"I will spend the rest of my life making sure I'm by your side."
Well, I'd have probably had the baby
by the time you got all of that out.
Emma, please, I'm...
I'm not here to fight.
There's been enough of that.
When I let you down that day, I started a feud
which should never have gone as far as it has.
So I've come here today to end it.
I hear you have a warehouse full of cloth
and no use for it.
That's right. It was meant to fulfil the contract
that your father stole from me.
Well...
what we have, what the Fairleys have,
is that contract, but...
no cloth...
or mill.
Emma, you're a businesswoman now.
A partnership.
Our contract, your mills.
Fairleys and Hartes.
Together, we can make that contract work.
For every uniform we produce, you'll get a pound
and so will we.
Emma, I don't know how your business
is faring through all of this, but ours is barely afloat.
But if we join forces,
then both of us can...
take care of our families.
Doesn't a pact make sense?
Come to lunch,
will you, please?
On Saturday. As our honoured guest.
No pressure, but we can talk it all through.
Emma...
War... It's miserable.
Imagine how it'd feel if we...
could lay down our weapons.
Just...
end it.
A ceasefire.
Truce.
What do you say?
Well, how did it go?
She bought it.
This deal could be the answer, Mac.
If I can get a pound a uniform, I won't have to close anything.
I can pay the wages, not lay anyone off.
There will be no profit,
but it might just get us through to the end of the war.
Sure. I'd bet on you above old Asquith
any day of the week.
But a partnership with the Fairleys?
I would have spat if someone suggested it before now.
- Can you trust them? - Never before.
Never.
But for the children...
shouldn't I be fighting on a different front, Mac?
Mummy, Mummy!
Ah! Is that us at the shop? Yeah.
Come here.
Isn't it beautiful?
I love it so much.
I was wondering if I could come in.
Standards slipped?
Oh, no, I'm sure they haven't.
I came because I'm coming here on Saturday for lunch.
I heard.
And when I do, I'll be coming in through the front door.
Well, I'll be sure to be careful with your coat.
But I was imagining how it's going to feel sitting up there.
And I know I'll just be desperate to see it all down here...
to remember.
So I came here today, in any case, to talk to Ed...
Master Edwin, work out possible terms and so on.
And I wanted to come round this way,
so nobody thinks I've any airs or graces.
And why not, Emma Harte?
I'd say you've earned a few airs from what I hear.
And you'd be justified the odd grace or two and all,
the rise you've had.
Made something of yourself, haven't you?
Well done, lass.
Well done.
And... I didn't know your dad well.
I keep myself to myself.
But I reckon Jack Harte would have been pleased as punch.
Thank you.
Well, I'd better go and...
They think we're wallpaper, of course.
Walking those rooms up there in silence.
They forget that staff are people...
and people have ears.
This partnership is...
is not what you think.
Master Edwin has got you right where he wants you.
You know I'm leaving you.
What? Why?
You lied to me about Adele.
It was not my fault.
I am not responsible for my sister's death.
And I have to be able to grieve.
I have to get away from here. Away from you.
Don't be ridiculous, Olivia. Where will you go?
I'll stay until the alliance is signed, for the boys' sake.
But when your contract and your house
are no longer at risk, when the war is over...
I will be looking for peace.
You think you're going somewhere
for a bit of peace and quiet...
Frank!
What are you doing here?
I'm up here every week.
You're not the only one that misses her.
How's school? Have you got your final exams?
Yeah, well, I expect
they're going to make me into a professor or something,
or a lord, probably.
Is that what happens when you get top marks?
King, I think, isn't it?
Yeah, something like that.
So, what are you doing up here, then? Panicking?
No.
I'm just wondering what to do, is all.
Oh, no.
What? I knew this would happen.
You've got money now. You can spend time thinking.
Rich folk, they love to just sit around
watching the sky, wondering.
That's not who we are. Get on with it!
Don't waste time thinking, "Oh, what if I do this?
"What if I spend this on a golden fountain?" or whatever.
All you've done is lost precious minutes
while you could have been trusting your gut.
Isn't that what Mam would've said?
A golden fountain?
Well, that's what rich people have, isn't it?
What have you got instead?
Massive warehouse full of cloth.
That's your golden fountain.
Frank, will you be all right?
What? Always. I've just climbed up a hill on my own.
Are you trusting your gut?
Follow your gut. Yeah? Yeah.
Go on, Emma!
Whoo!
Well, lunch is served.
And I'm quite sure it's delicious.
But I have something I'd like to say.
Edwin, you made me a proposition.
That's right. A partnership.
We fulfil the uniform contracts together.
Well, that all sounds very sensible.
As a team, is that right?
- Proceeds split down the middle? - Absolutely.
For every uniform, a pound for you...
And a pound for you.
Yes.
That's what you said.
Only, Edwin, that's not what you're planning, is it?
- Well... - I believe your actual plan
is a pound for me and five pounds for you for every uniform.
Isn't that right?
Sell them off for over the odds, give me the bare minimum,
and cream off the majority of the profit for yourself.
That's what you're planning, Edwin, isn't it?
Tell me the truth!
I...
had to do something.
You're planning to suffocate my business.
Oh, and you forgot to mention you have a baby on the way,
so I expect that explains all the plotting, doesn't it, Edwin?
Because I know you're not the type
to ever leave a child of yours out in the cold.
What does she mean?
- Edwin? - Emma...
I'm still talking!
I went to see Lord Acton today, Mr Fairley. Your chum.
I told him that you Fairleys were playing him for a fool.
What the hell is happening? What are you saying?
It's not just me and your old schoolmate you're short-changing.
You won't be paying your workers a living wage,
and you'll be doing our soldiers dirty too,
because the uniforms you make will be low quality.
Are we really allowing her to speak to us in this way?
I will be coming to you, Gerald Fairley!
I told Lord Acton
that you Fairleys aren't getting a scrap of cloth from me,
and if he thinks there's the slightest chance
that this war will go on into 1916,
then there's only one person who's got the mills,
the factory, the materials
and the gang of skilled working women
to fulfil his contract for years to come.
So he gave me the money up front.
How dare you?
What makes you think one little worthless maid
can come after generations...
What, rich, entitled men?
She's doing this to get back at Edwin
because he didn't want her.
You think I've gone through all of this
for someone as unimportant to me as Edwin Fairley?!
It's not just him I'm coming for. It's all of you.
Squire Fairley,
the way you treat your staff is a disgrace.
But it's nothing to the way you treated my mother.
My mother died when she needn't have,
and you stood by and did nothing.
Despite everything that went on between the two of you,
she thought of you till her dying breath,
and you thought of her never.
And you let my father down, too.
My father died in your mill through your mismanagement,
and what's worse, he died saving your coward of a son!
Would you have done the same for him, Edwin?
Mrs Fairley, I understand that's your name now.
You stole my dress designs,
and you sold them without giving me a moment's credit.
Emma, I have always tried to be...
You might have spared me a kind word now and then,
but kind words do not put food on the table!
And finally, Squire Fairley, we come to your other son...
who's not just a coward,
he's a dangerous monster.
A weasel of a man who preys on women
in a vain attempt to feel strong
in the face of his own overwhelming weaknesses!
Why?
Why are you doing this?
For my mother.
For my father.
For everyone who's ever worked in your house or your mill.
Oh, I'd not be so grand as to claim
I'm representing all working folk
but, by God, I will speak up for them!
While every one of you stands by idle and watches
as the world around you slides into being more and more broken!
Oh, and I haven't told you the best bit.
I haven't told you what I spent the money on
that Lord Acton gave me up front.
Hello, Fairleys. Fancy seeing you here.
Thank you.
I've bought this house.
What do you mean?
I mean I'm the new owner of Fairley Hall,
so take this as your eviction notice.
Edwin Fairley,
I was all set to lower myself to be your partner today.
It's the second time that's nearly happened.
But five years ago, you let me down,
and today you planned to take me down and leave me there.
I will never forgive you.
Please, all of you loyal staff,
take this lunch home to your families.
And all of you Fairleys...
get out of my house.
There was a fatal flaw in your scheme, of course.
You underestimated me.
I've had times of great adversity in my life,
and I believe many of you think I mention them rather too much.
I didn't say that. I only...
But nothing I have ever experienced
prepared me for the ungrateful betrayal of my own children.
Mother, I've been just desperate to talk to you,
- to explain. - Yet my phone hasn't rung, Elizabeth.
Now, Edwina,
Kit,
Robin, Elizabeth.
The four of you schemed together to discredit me.
I might have had a grudging respect for you
had you been more subtle or creative.
But today, I'd like to thank you,
because your treachery has made me see
that something does need to change.
You don't trust me,
and that has hit home.
So...
I've changed my will
so that when I die, none of you will receive a penny.
Oh, Mother! What does "not a penny" even mean?
Now, today, I'd like to offer you all a choice.
Either you fight on
and continue to feed those hateful lies about me to the press...
- Or what? - Or you take these.
There's a cheque each for £1 million.
A drop in the bucket to what you would have received, of course.
And for God's sake, don't mistake them for gifts.
I am buying you.
All of you.
If you accept these cheques,
you are agreeing to drop the whole ghastly plot
and never contest any of my wishes.
Mother, what are you doing?
Grandy, what's going on?
Now, there's been much discussion over the years
as to which of my children might take over my businesses.
My signature on this piece of paper here
means that debate can stop.
Because now, all of it,
every inch...
belongs to Paula.
No, no. Grandy, I...
Oh, we've had our disagreements, of course, darling.
The odd... distraction.
But you've moved on.
You've always put the business first.
Paula, you're the one I've trained.
You're the one I trust.
And you've proven time and time again
to be the worthy successor.
And now it's done.
Now, here are your contracts.
So, the four of you,
come and sign them and take your cheques.
Or leave with nothing.
Paula? You've chosen Paula?
She shall get the lot, and I shall get nothing?
Nothing but the allowances from my ex-husbands?
Well, how fortunate you have six of them.
I barely even spoke to any journalists.
I was hardly at the lunch. I don't even eat lunch!
It's a trick, isn't it?
You're asking us whether we'd like to give up or fight on.
Well, I believe the Emma Harte way
is to fight on. Isn't that right?
What's happening here, Edwina?
Are you attempting to begin a feud like mine,
or would you just like £1 million
and for this all to be over?
Paula will now take my place on the board at Sitex Oil.
She'll also take over every one of my shares
at Harte Stores and Harte Enterprises.
Paula owns this house. She owns the lot.
It was always going to be her.
Nobody else reminds me so much of myself.
And what better compliment could there be?
Would you step outside for a moment, Edwina?
I have something for you.
What is it?
Some information for you, Edwina.
Regardless of what it says on your birth certificate,
your father isn't that "lowly Irishman", as you put it.
It says Mac's name on it quite clearly.
Because Mac was,
and always has been,
the best man there is.
But your father...
is Edwin Fairley.
What?
I'm a Fairley?
Why didn't you tell me?
Because I knew you'd receive it like a gift.
And because I knew that would break my heart.
So... the famous Fairley feud?
This is why!
Every member of the Fairley family has let down every one of mine.
You've turned out to be living proof...
that no Fairley can ever be trusted.
Even Fairleys you gave birth to...
turn on you in the end.
All signed.
Mrs Harte, what's your secret?
Oh, the same as it's always been, my dear.
To endure.
Hey! Hey there, Emma Harte!
How dare you!
This is my house. It's my home!
Not any more.
This will always be my home. It's got my name on it.
So you might have won for now.
Fairley Hall might be yours for a short time,
but don't ever make the mistake
of stopping looking over your shoulder,
because if you think this feud has been brutal up to now,
you haven't seen anything yet.
I'm involved now, and soon I'll have a family of my own.
So I promise you, whether it's next year or in 50 years,
when you're least expecting it,
somehow the Fairleys will take back this house.
Paula?
Grandy!
Why didn't you tell me the reason for your Fairley feud?
And why didn't you tell me that you were...
you were giving it all to me?
Because I knew you'd object.
But now it's all yours.
No...
Paula, I trust you unreservedly,
despite that ill-judged dalliance of yours
with Jim Fairley.
Hey!
Hey, there!
Emma Harte.
Did I startle you?
Rude of me, of course. I apologise.
And on your birthday too.
But... I gather this is a family event, and...
I've been upstairs waiting to...
join my wife.
- No... - It was a whim.
A counter-strike.
After you and I fell out,
I was so determined you wouldn't...
you wouldn't underestimate me.
You married... Jim Fairley?
I was gonna tell you today.
I had no idea you were planning on signing it all over to me.
I... I'm so sorry.
I know... I know I should have...
But...
I love him.
And?
We're having a baby.
Strictly speaking, it will be Paula having the baby,
I believe, but it'll belong to both of us, of course.
What's hers is mine, and all that.
*CREDITS*