

Episode 7
Season 3 Episode 7 | 53m 2sVideo has Closed Captions
Morwenna gives birth, George triumphs and Ross and Demelza bare their souls.
Morwenna gives birth and plunges into despair. George triumphs, as the ground collapses under his relationship with Elizabeth. Ross and Demelza bare their souls.
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Episode 7
Season 3 Episode 7 | 53m 2sVideo has Closed Captions
Morwenna gives birth and plunges into despair. George triumphs, as the ground collapses under his relationship with Elizabeth. Ross and Demelza bare their souls.
Problems with Closed Captions? Closed Captioning Feedback
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Poldark: From First Scene to Last Scene
Five seasons of epic adventures, grand romances, heartbreaks and more, and now, our favorite Cornwall characters’ stories have come to an end. Relive their journeys from first to last appearance with our slideshow to transport you back to each characters’ very first scene and lines – and their last.Providing Support for PBS.org
Learn Moreabout PBS online sponsorshipLINNEY: This is "Masterpiece"...
I've missed you, sister.
Rowella... LINNEY: Previously on "Poldark."
Truro lacks an MP.
Sir Francis intends to put up his own candidate to challenge Falmouth's.
I regret I must decline.
Your stubbornness will be your undoing.
HUGH: I'm no Leonardo, but you are surely Mona Lisa.
That was no eight-month baby, George.
Maybe somebody got there before ye.
I should not have told him.
My great aunt is dead.
LINNEY: "Poldark," ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (birds chirping) (bell tolling) Bury her in a pauper's grave with no headstone?
She will have a headstone.
She was the last of the Trenwith Poldarks.
Barring Geoffrey Charles.
(rattle jingling) What is my offense, George?
Since Aunt Agatha's death, there's scarce been two words between us.
Of course I was unhappy that she was buried in haste, without due ceremony... We do not know what she died of.
My concern was solely about possible infection.
And perhaps I was wrong in challenging you so vigorously.
But why should your displeasure extend to Valentine?
You've barely looked at him for weeks.
I've been occupied with other matters.
And expect to be so till after the election.
And then?
I will go to London.
Will you take tea?
GEORGE: I thank you, ma'am.
This is not a social call.
Ah.
(door opens, closes) (clears throat) I have... called on a personal matter.
Therefore, what I have to say must be utterly confidential.
Everything between doctor and patient is confidential.
Yes, but this pertains not to me but to my son, Valentine.
Yes?
He was an eight-month child, correct?
Born premature because of my wife's fall.
And, from what I could tell, suffered no ill effects for coming a month early.
I believe...
I am told... That an eight-month child has no nails.
Not necessarily the case.
Or hair.
That's usually sparse.
And that the skin is wrinkled.
So is that of many at full term.
My son, if you recollect, had nails, smooth skin, and a goodly head of hair.
(clears throat) I observed nothing at the time of his birth which might lead me to speculate that anything was not as it should be.
In other words, you will not tell me.
In other words, I cannot categorically say one way or another.
Were I able, I would do so.
I would remind you, you are pledged to secrecy.
And I would remind you that I am a gentleman, sir, as well as a doctor.
(coughing) Warleggan's cut wages at three o' their mines.
Again?
Twelve mile these've walked on the off-chance of work.
Shall I send 'em away?
WHITWORTH: The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!
Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.
Put on the armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand the wiles of the devil!
For strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads to virtue and purity of heart.
(sizzling) My dear, what an age it's been!
You and George must dine with us.
I would have asked him today, but he left in such haste.
George has been to visit?
Oh, not me.
My husband.
A social call?
A private matter.
Concerning?
Oh, you know Dwight.
Never discusses his patients.
(soft chuckle) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (knock at door) (door opens) I've examined your wife, sir.
She is within a month of her time and I have some concern.
What does she complain of now?
Of nothing, sir.
She merely answered my question about the nature of your marital relations.
What?
She'd no right to discuss such matters with you!
She has every right, as do I, to ensure the safety of your unborn child.
You have, if I may say so, a substantial physique.
Unless you wish to risk crushing the child.
You're suggesting I forgo my... (quietly): my conjugal rights?
To a man of God, abstinence can surely be no hardship?
Not in the least, sir.
Those men we took on, when George shut Leisure, they're at 40 level.
Could we make use of the new arrivals there?
'Tis not down to you to feed half the county.
True.
But then the tiresome creatures sicken and starve.
And it's damned expensive, mopping up corpses and digging new graves.
Cheaper to find 'em a pitch?
For my own convenience, I see no other way.
Ah, Zacky, will you tell my patients I'll be with them directly?
Thank you.
Forgive me, I was disagreeably detained.
By whom?
George Warleggan and Reverend Whitworth.
I can't decide which encounter was the more unpleasant.
In what regard?
Nothing I'm at liberty to disclose.
Regrettably.
♪ ♪ A rare bloom, for one still rarer.
(laughs softly) (horse snorts, grumbles) (Demelza and Hugh laughing) Oh, um...
Lieutenant Armitage brought me a plant from his uncle's garden.
It seems we share a love of flora.
And fauna?
(whistles) (Garrick barks) Of the mangy, flea-ridden variety?
Oh!
Garrick!
Down!
Down!
Out!
Out!
He's charming.
Like his mistress.
Although when he first came, he was wholly uncouth.
Like his mistress?
You'll stay to dinner?
I'm expected at the Teagues'.
Mrs. Teague has four unmarried daughters.
(sighs) Having escaped one prison, I'm in no haste to enter another.
You take a very sour view of marriage.
But not of love.
For, in love, we keep company with the gods.
I don't think Mrs. Teague will be thinking along those lines.
(both laugh) (door opens, footsteps approach) ♪ ♪ (grunts) He lives in a dream.
Armitage.
You know his sight is failing?
A pity.
He's an able navigator.
Yet he isn't a dream.
He's very real.
And I rely on your wonderful common sense to remember that.
I'll take him to bed.
(door opens) DEMELZA: My "wonderful common sense."
Mind I don't box your ears with it.
PRUDIE: If 'ee had any sense, maid, 'ee'd be roughling and tumbling about the meadow with that pretty boy!
Oh, Prudie!
Well, makes the blood boil, to hear Mr. Ross talking like there's none to compare with he.
Perhaps there ain't.
Never know till ye try.
(laughs) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (waves crashing) (hammering echoes) Fire and iron, fire and brimstone.
Both possessed.
'Tis as good a way as any to drive off heartache.
SAM: A well chosen wife would do the same.
DRAKE: For thee also, brother?
EMMA: Good day, all.
My brothers sing in praise of wedded bliss.
Do you think I'm right?
(laughing): Do I look the marrying kind?
As I see it, a girl's only power be when she have men dangling on a string.
Once they get her, string's round her neck.
Choose wisely and it needn't be.
Hm.
Can 'ee fettle this?
I'll return tomorrow.
♪ ♪ Valentine, my sweet, shall we ask Papa if he'd like us to accompany him to Truro?
Imagine him as a Member of Parliament.
Papa is going to Tregothnan.
To see Lord Falmouth?
To inform him of the burgesses' decision, and thence to Truro, and an election is no place for children.
May we wish you luck?
Unnecessary.
Ah, gentlemen, apologies.
I had business with my steward.
Now, you'll be wishing to know the name of your new member.
It is Mr. Jeremy Salter of Exeter, a distant cousin of mine.
Here are his credentials.
He is the man to vote for.
You'll wish to circulate them in time for the voting this afternoon.
CARY: Your Lordship, the burgesses met last night.
Oh good.
Good.
GEORGE: And as Your Lordship knows, have always voted as you directed.
Naturally.
And if they ever felt bereft of choice, the promise of favors or the threat of their withdrawal has made them sensible of the need for compliance.
So the issue is?
They now wish to vote according to their own inclination.
Do they presume to suggest some candidate of their own?
I myself have been asked to stand.
An entirely disinterested party.
Commend me to your friends, gentlemen.
All have received favors from me.
As I'll remind them when I see them this afternoon.
Good day.
(Garrick barking) PRUDIE: Garrick, get down!
Garrick, get down!
Jeremy, why do you have to do that?
Is this what Caroline and I have to look forward to?
I somehow doubt it.
Truro will be worse.
It's election day.
DWIGHT: And the voting begins at 2:00.
Shall we go together?
DEMELZA: My husband wants me to join him at the Red Lion for the results.
I believe he dislikes me entertaining while he's away.
ROSS: No guest would give me a moment's disquiet, except perhaps Hugh... Bodrugan.
I'll get my hat.
MAN: Gentlemen, the voting to elect Truro's next Member of Parliament will now commence.
(indistinct chatter) FALMOUTH: Mr. Noye?
Your purchase of land at St. Clement.
It may now not go through.
Disgraceful.
Quite so.
Yet the alternative...
I sympathize.
Your dilemma is acute.
(sighs) Gentlemen.
(Morwenna groaning, panting) Sister.
(panting) What is it?
(panting) (groaning) (panting) Mrs. Whitworth?
Tell her I'll come at once.
And if we run into George, don't tease him on his defeat.
I may not be able to resist.
(Morwenna screaming) Mrs. Whitworth's labors have taken a dangerous turn.
She's fallen into convulsions.
But the child will live?
At present, I'm concerned for the safety of mother and child.
(Morwenna groaning loudly, crying) Uh.
WHITWORTH: Dear Lord, I begin to comprehend your purpose.
For you see now that my present wife is unsuited to this life and if you ordain that I should be widowed again... (Morwenna screaming) Guide thou my footsteps toward a suitable replacement.
Mr. Fawcett.
FAWCETT: Yes, Lord Falmouth.
The loan of 35 pounds I made to you, it may have to be repaid.
(Morwenna's screams echoing) Vicar?
Forgive me.
Dr. Enys thought you should know.
You have a son.
(applause) Travesty.
Unbelievable.
You will shortly see a different result affecting your finances and trade.
Let us leave this despot to his rantings.
Where your contracts are cancelled and your loans revoked!
Six and a half pounds!
My mother will be delighted.
I've already chosen a name: John Conan Godolphin Osborne, as a nod to the family connection.
Mrs. Whitworth is sleeping.
She survived!
Your prayers have been answered.
Oh, indeed.
Yes.
(half-heartedly): God be praised.
When can I see my son?
He won?!
Judas!
It's lunacy.
Dear me, Ross.
You placed me in a deuced awkward position.
Had you accepted the nomination...
I would not have been suitable.
Basset's second choice is far less so.
DEMELZA: Yet Sir Francis seems a decent man at heart.
(door opens, George laughing) Ross!
This is well met.
Are you here to congratulate me?
I came to town with no other purpose.
When do you take your seat?
Next week.
I shall take a house in London.
Then we'll no longer be neighbors.
GEORGE: Oh, during summer recess, if I cannot avoid it.
GEORGE: But if Trenwith becomes surplus to requirements, I may think of selling.
You should make him an offer.
GEORGE: Don't waste your time.
It will never become available to you!
BASSET: Now now, sir.
How does Geoffrey Charles at his new school?
I fear he's inherited his father's idle habits.
ROSS: At school, as you recall, his father was cleverer than either of us.
A promise he did not fulfil.
I, of course, pay the whole cost of the boy's schooling, when he should by rights have sufficient income of his own.
From what?
His shares in your mine.
Elizabeth sold his shares.
Under pressure, to you, at a fraction of their worth.
And what news of Aunt Agatha's headstone?
Could I possibly care less?
I'll call and discuss it with Elizabeth.
You will do no such thing!
Since it's a Poldark family matter.
Elizabeth is not a Poldark.
She was... And so is her son.
Damn you, Ross...
Damn your blood!
This is not seemly.
It does not become a gentleman, nor a Member of Parliament.
My apologies, sir.
My regards to Westminster.
♪ ♪ (John cooing) (indistinct chatter) And you are?
Begging your pardon, Vicar.
Arthur Solway from the library.
I brought these books for Miss Rowella.
I disapprove of libraries.
The danger of exposing uninstructed minds to ideas beyond their scope.
These are histories, sir.
Of France and Greece.
Be off with you!
So, my dear, you're to go to Westminster.
Where shall we take a house?
Caroline speaks highly of Hatton Garden, but Lady Whitworth favors Fitzroy Square.
I shall be going alone.
Why did you go to speak to Dwight?
What a peculiar question.
Is it?
Every husband needs time away from his wife and children.
It makes them more appreciative when he returns.
(door closes) (Valentine fussing) ♪ ♪ GEORGE: You have my list of instructions?
Yes, sir.
Or, only... regarding Mrs. Warleggan...
Yes?
What part of my orders is unclear?
You will watch her.
Where she goes, who she meets.
(hoofbeats retreating) ♪ ♪ PRUDIE: This just come from Tregoth-what's-it!
DEMELZA: Tregothnan?
I wondered how long it would take.
Lord Falmouth invites us to visit before his nephew returns to sea.
Of course, that's merely the pretext.
His real motive... Is what?
We'll soon see.
(door closes) And Lieutenant Armitage, do he have another motive?
Oh, shush.
(laughs) ROSS: There he goes.
Cornwall's hope for democracy.
DEMELZA: An' are you content?
That he speaks for Cornwall while you stay home and plough your fields?
Entirely content.
I like to be out-of-doors.
The climate of Westminster would not agree with me.
How do you do, ma'am?
You're quite the young gentleman.
Is Uncle George here?
In London.
So it's just we two?
And Valentine.
Well, in that case... can we have cakes by the fire?
And jellies.
And cream.
(giggling) ROWELLA: Do you not love him?
I must find a way.
It's no fault of his that I struggle.
What is it?
This morning... (sighs) Osborne came to me, demanding... that I... that he...
But did not Dr. Enys advise at least six weeks of abstinence?
He did.
I wish he had advised six centuries.
Try to rest, sister.
I'll return when I've taken a bath.
(door closes) (heavy breathing) (groans) (quick footsteps) We will say a prayer... No, Ossie!
Please, I cannot!
It will soon be over.
Just close your eyes and submit.
No, please!
(waves crashing) I confess, cousin, I'd hoped to see you stronger.
I will be soon.
It grieves me that I cannot nurse my baby.
I wanted to, but Osborne insisted on a wet-nurse.
Rowella, can you take me to visit the child?
Of course.
I've missed you, Wenna.
And I you.
School is very diverting, but it doesn't compare to the beach at Hendrawna and our days there together.
(chuckles) Do you still think of him?
You mustn't ask me that.
I shall visit him soon.
May I tell him that I've seen you?
No.
Yes.
Tell him... Tell him I do not forget him, and never will.
If anything, she grows worse.
What treatment has she had?
Since the birth, none at all.
The vicar believes it's a nervous complaint, which must be ignored.
Ah!
Cousin Elizabeth.
You find us in excellent health?
On the contrary, I find Morwenna failing.
Why has Dr. Enys not been sent for?
Expense, for one thing.
For another, I wonder if it's wise to pander to hysterics.
Osborne, if you do not send for Dr. Enys, I will.
I must again ask you a delicate question, Mrs. Whitworth.
Good God, sir!
The impertinence!
Of course I've resumed marital relations!
Then you must cease forthwith.
How dare you suggest...!
As her physician, I insist.
Her body is not healed.
Nor her nerves.
If, after a month, my treatment has brought no improvement, you may dispense with my services.
I beg your pardon, Vicar.
A month then.
For my wife's sake.
Prudie?
What do we think for Tregothnan?
The scarlet or the green?
It's only a small gathering.
No need to get fligged up.
I have some business to attend to.
Might as well wear sackcloth.
'T'would have the same effect on some folk.
(wind whistling) Elizabeth.
I came to see Agatha's grave.
I, too.
I gather from George there's to be no headstone.
When did you speak to George?
On election day.
We met at the Red Lion.
Is something amiss?
Newly amiss, you mean?
He cannot still be jealous of our former attachment?
Whatever was between us is long passed.
Its consequences may not be.
What does he imagine?
Oh, Ross, what do you think he imagines?
That Valentine is not his child.
And is he?
I cannot say.
You will not say.
I will not say.
What does George suspect?
Have you never hinted?
Do you think me a monster?
To injure the woman I once loved.
Demelza, then...
It would destroy her to speak of it.
Then who?
Who else was in the house that night?
Agatha.
Dear God.
Since the day of her death, he's been icy towards me.
She must have told her suspicions, for she could not know for sure.
Precisely what does George suspect?
He will not say.
Make him say.
Then deny it.
Lie, if necessary.
He has no proof that Valentine is mine.
There is no proof.
You are the one person who can do this, Elizabeth.
I know George.
He would do anything to keep you.
He's wanted you from the moment he met you.
I saw how he looked at you then.
I never dreamed he stood a chance.
Nor did he.
Nor did I.
Can you imagine how I felt when I learned he was to have you?
You left me in no doubt that night.
Forgive me.
And thereafter, leaving me with no word, making no attempt to see me.
Oh, how could I?
To break up your life afresh?
My life?
Our families?
And now?
Is it not perverse to try and save a marriage you did your best to prevent?
For the sake of your son, do you not wish to save it?
(sighs) I wish to save it.
Then there's one thing you can do.
Which would put a seal on George's trust, which no one could ever dispute.
Give him another child.
That cannot alter what's gone before.
It could.
If there were some confusion over the dates.
If it could seem to him like another eight-month child.
I must go.
Yes.
Goodbye, Ross.
♪ ♪ GEOFFREY CHARLES: I'd sooner make a wheel than learn stupid Latin declensions.
DRAKE: 'Taint only Latin though.
You're learnin' how to be a gentleman.
And when I inherit Trenwith, you'll come and live there as my steward, and we'll make wheels together.
I saw her today.
She's had her child.
She asked me to give you a message.
DEMELZA: You went to visit Aunt Agatha's grave?
And what did you find there?
Things I needed to attend to.
(sighs) I met Elizabeth.
For the first time in years, we talked.
At first she was hostile, but then she softened.
I kissed her.
I love her, Demelza.
Not as I did.
But with fondness.
The ghost of a love.
I pity her.
I want to help her.
My conscience is sore, for I treated her ill. Fifteen years ago, I would have given the earth for her.
And she hasn't changed.
She's no less lovely.
But I have.
I have changed.
Because of you.
DEMELZA: Ross.
What things needed attending to?
I thought granite for the headstone.
Nothing else will survive the elements.
Now if you've finished asking questions, may I dress for dinner?
HUGH: My dear friends.
Welcome!
Ross, my uncle would esteem it a favor if you'd join him in his study.
You may trust your wife to my care.
I would hope so.
I assume Falmouth has some proposal for Ross.
To put a sack over the head of his beautiful wife?
So his nephew does not make a complete fool of himself.
FALMOUTH: Tell me, Poldark, what are your ambitions?
To live as I want, to raise a family, care for the people around me, to be unencumbered of debt.
Why, I think you underestimate your talents.
I am wholly aware of my capabilities.
I am also aware they are not for sale.
You and I have something in common.
We dislike George Warleggan.
And?
His friend, Sir Francis Basset.
George and Sir Francis are not that alike, despite current appearances.
True, they're both wealthy, and their power has been generated through the labor of others, but whilst Sir Francis values his menials, George despises them.
As do many who enjoy inherited powers.
Basset is the new order.
I am the old.
He seeks to overthrow me.
I would like you to help me prevent him.
And how would I do that?
(laughter, chatter nearby) I'm the unhappiest of men.
The woman I love more than life is married to the man to whom I owe my life.
And now I'm going away, I can't bear the thought of losing her.
How can you lose what you've never had?
I've had her company.
Her conversation.
The sound of her voice, the touch of her hand.
I suspect... what you think you've had, the woman you think you see, is not really there at all.
You think I idolize her?
It is not perfection that I seek.
It is flesh... and blood.
I think I should like some more port.
When George's course is set, it's hard to unseat him.
Nonetheless, I invite you to try.
Well, there's one possible way to obstruct his Parliamentary progress.
Which is?
Reconcile your aims with those of Sir Francis.
Our views are totally opposed.
I see that.
You're a hereditary peer who exists to command.
You take governance as your right.
For you, the common man has no rights.
And never will.
He would not know what to do with them.
No, it is for we, the aristocracy, to govern.
Who better to uphold the traditions that made our country great?
And the tradition of governing through promised favors and purchased influence?
Your exploits in France impressed me.
I assumed you'd gone there to strike a blow against revolution.
I now find you are one of its advocates.
You are mistaken, My Lord.
I do not endorse bloodshed and lawlessness.
But liberty, equality, fraternity?
These I can put my name to.
Well, I have no intention of so doing.
No, power must exist.
Someone must possess it.
And since man is not perfect, sometimes it is misused, but who is more likely to misuse it?
The man who newly finds it in his grasp, like one who has never before tasted liquor?
Or the man, who by heredity, like you and I, has learnt to take it in his stride, who may taste the heady brew without becoming drunk on it?
I think I must rejoin my wife.
She will think I've abandoned her.
(harp playing) ♪ Do not ask me for a smile ♪ ♪ Life is short but love is long ♪ ♪ Let me not your heart beguile ♪ ♪ Pray content you with a song ♪ ♪ Do not ask me for a kiss ♪ ♪ Life is short but love is long ♪ ♪ You may never know that bliss ♪ ♪ So I offer you this song ♪ ♪ Do not ask me for my heart ♪ ♪ Life is short but love is long ♪ ♪ Knowing we are soon to part ♪ ♪ Consolation be my song.
♪ (applause) MORWENNA: I must go up and rest.
ROWELLA: Before you do, sister.
This came for you.
(door opens) Going to bed, my dear?
Take all the time you need.
Nothing matters more than your well-being.
Thank you, Osborne.
(breath shuddering) Excuse me, Vicar.
I'm going to my room.
(strained grunt) My love.
(crying) (quietly sobbing) Did you want me, Vicar?
Ah, yes.
I want to speak with you... about... your reading.
The Iliad?
At which part are you now?
Patroclus has just been slain by Hector, and now there is a terrible fight about his body.
(door closes) For as you know, Vicar, it is of great importance to the Greeks that the funeral rites be performed in full upon the body.
The body, y-yes.
Why do I not think you're very interested in this story, Vicar?
Call me Osborne, would you?
Should you like to sit down, Vicar?
Oh... err...
I think you would.
Should you like me to sit on your lap?
Not sure I...
But of course you would.
(moans) (whimpers) ♪ ♪ You seem far away.
No more than you when you returned from Sawle churchyard.
We swore we'd keep no more secrets from each other, Ross.
I have nothing to tell.
Do you?
Yes.
Though I think you will find it hard to hear.
Try me.
I want to tell you that...
I wish I could be two people.
One, your loving wife, the mother of your children, content in our life, as I am and as I ever wish to be.
And the other?
(sighs) Someone else.
Someone new.
Who could love another just for a day.
Another.
Laugh with him.
Kiss him.
Love him.
Just for a day, without feeling disloyal to the man I truly love.
And do you think "another" would be content with that?
I don't know.
Would you?
I think so.
For I know who it is who truly owns my heart.
Do you doubt it?
Not till tonight.
Till I saw you look at him... the way you once looked at me.
I will look at you that way again, Ross.
Just be patient with me, as I have been patient with you.
♪ ♪ (waves crashing) LINNEY: Next time, on "Masterpiece."
ROSS: You have responded to the call to defend your country.
GEORGE: Can he be trusted?
More to the point, can you?
DEMELZA: No, I must give up all thought of him.
As Ross gave up all thought of Elizabeth for me.
Did he?
ROSS: I may soon have a real battle to fight.
Spare me this one.
(gunfire) LINNEY: "Poldark," the season finale.
Next time on "Masterpiece."
♪♪ LINNEY: Go to our website.
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