- Do you believe in ghosts? - No.
But I'm scared of them.
Why do you ask?
- Where did you find this? - Is it worth anything?
I've just moved into the new estate.
You have family?
And I saw it sticking out of the soil.
- It's a door-knocker, isn't it? - Full marks.
- It looks old. - It is.
I think I know where it came from.
What is that, do you think?
A man?
An animal?
- You said you knew where it came from. - There was a house near here,
Geap Manor,
demolished a few years ago.
But it had an...
interesting reputation.
Ghosts?
Would you like a cup of tea?
Transcript: Chocolate
Roger and Lady Widdowson.
Painted about...
1585.
Widdowson built Geap Manor. Fascinating character.
Controversial to say the least. I'm not boring you?
This sort of stuff is why I got into it.
I'm a teacher. History.
You have some expertise.
Some.
So why was Widdowson controversial?
It was said he consorted
with witches.
Didn't everybody in those days?
Not quite, not quite.
Milk...
It's there.
Widdowson was a powerful man.
A politician.
Big fish in Elizabeth's court.
His detractors thought he'd only got where he had
through his closeness to an infamous necromancer.
Name of Unthank. Dr Unthank.
Apparently, they got up to all sorts...
People were jealous of Widdowson's success, which is funny,
because in the most important area for any Tudor, he was a complete washout.
- Which was? - His wife failed to bear him an heir.
They tried and tried, but it was no use.
And so Widdowson's line died out.
After that, the house began to acquire its reputation.
Was it built on an Indian burial ground or something?
In Windsor?
Geap Manor was unique.
Not a haunted house, per se.
It seemed to...
attract unpleasantness.
After Widdowson's time, it passed through many different hands,
but owner after owner had a bad end,
or brought down some sort of calamity on themselves.
I suppose it might still be standing
if only poor Sir Roger had himself a son.
- Anyway, back to your... - No, please.
I'm in no rush. I'd love to hear about it.
The house, I mean.
Any juicy stories?
I've made a bit of a study of the Manor, actually.
Well. Let me see...
You'll like this one.
Joseph Bloxham Esq,
a man of the new Enlightenment.
He bought the old place in the summer of...
What was it?
1786.
The Venezuela company has behaved infamously.
Joseph Bloxham must be called to account.
The Venezuela company has behaved infamously.
Sir?
It's true, though, ain't it, Joe?
- What they're saying in the Change? - What's that, Nick?
That you made enough blunt from the South American scheme
to take a pop at any short-heeled wench
who takes your fancy!
That I might!
Must admit, marriage has been much upon my mind.
Been alone too long. Time I took another wife.
Settled down.
I've done well.
- Something on your mind, Mr Noakes? - Hardly, Joseph.
- No-one can deny you've done well. - But?
- There is a qualification
hovering about your bone-box, sir. Out with it!
- No, sir. - Out with it, damn your eyes.
Out there...
Mayhap you didn't notice as you entered,
Mrs Glanville is perambulating.
Putting it about that she intends to petition for damages against you.
This true, Joe?
Why, in God's name?
Her husband lost his shirt
when the South American investment crashed.
And for some extraordinary reason, she blames Joe.
Progenitor of the whole scheme.
He could have got out in time, as I did.
But then he had no warning, did he?
No, Joseph, as I say, no-one can deny
that you've done well from the Venezuelan bubble.
Question is,
- have you done right? - Glanville took his chances.
Put his fortune in hazard as did we all.
It's not my fault, and it's not my concern.
Now the poor fellow rots in the Marshalsea Prison.
A fine day's work, Joseph Bloxham.
If you will excuse me, I must be elsewhere.
The new house. The Manor? How goes it, Joe?
Well. Very well.
I am promised the work will be complete by tomorrow.
- What? - Three more weeks.
At the absolute outside, I swear it.
That's what you told me two months ago, Master Coil!
My exchequer is not inexhaustible!
I know. I can only apologise, Mr Bloxham.
But real craftsmanship
cannot be rushed, sir.
- You wouldn't want that, no? - Of course not.
You could get in any nickninny to take on a job like this,
but you'd regret it.
Well, you have my absolute assurance
that my men and me will have quit the place by the end of October.
You swear it?
Give or take.
Have you seen the improvements to the drawing room yet?
- Is it finished? - Very nearly.
- The wainscoting is all in place. - Good.
- That's something at least. - This way, sir.
I do know the way.
Excellent.
Well, this is indeed more like it, Master Coil. Splendid.
And the timber?
The very finest I could find, sir, as you requested.
- What's this? - What's what, sir?
These... blemishes. Stains.
Just the grain of the wood, sir. Nothing to vex yourself over.
And here. It doesn't resemble any grain that I've...
And of course, the wainscoting will soon be painted, will it not?
A nice sage green would look lovely in here, Mr Bloxham.
I like a green.
So you have informed me more than once.
Pity.
- I do like a green. - One of the new reds, perhaps.
Or that charming cornflower-blue
Lady Southcott has in her bedroom.
In her...?
- Very well, Master Coil. - I am satisfied.
But three weeks more is all you shall have.
- My patience is at an end. - I promise you, sir. On me honour.
Then I'll bid you good morning.
Two weeks more only, sir.
Indeed, Mr Bloxham. You need not concern yourself about that.
But one more matter, sir.
It is such a little thing that I hardly
like to bother such a personage as...
For pity's sake, man, spit it out. I am expected in the Bailey.
Might we have the services of a cat, sir.
- A cat? - Yes, sir.
It seems from the sounds that we might have a mouse.
Or possibly a rat.
I thought I heard something very like a few nights back.
Inevitable, I suppose... Door open all day long.
Very well, I shall find you a puss for your purpose.
- Very good. Thank you. - Now get back to work.
Well, they'll not hang you this time, Joe?
It will take more than the ill-thought schemes of a designing woman.
Madam.
You may well lower your eyes, Joseph Bloxham!
How you dared to stand up in court and claim ignorance!
It was a risk, madam. All commerce is a risk.
- Your husband... - My husband, sir,
blew his brains out last evening.
What?
He procured a pistol.
How I know not.
Then he wrote me a short farewell.
And then he took his own life.
My...
deepest sympathies, madam.
My own, dear Harry.
A fine man, Joseph Bloxham,
a kind man
who never took a risk in his life until you...
You persuaded him otherwise.
"The scheme that could not fail," you said.
But it did fail, didn't it?
And now a hundred poor wretches like me shall pay the price.
You have Harry's blood on your hands,
as surely as if you had put that pistol between his lips.
What the devil's got into him?
Something stronger than this scandal-brew,
- I think. - Very well, sir.
Don't let it vex you.
Wretched woman is grief-struck, that's all.
Perhaps some means might be found of helping her.
Helping her?
These people, they sicken me.
Live their whole lives under a stone, scarcely alive at all.
I give them a chance, a chance to better themselves,
to pull themselves up out of their squalid holes,
and when things do not work out - for the first time, mark you -
do they resolve to try again?
Does Glanville gird his loins and say,
"Bloxham made himself a fortune,
"Bloxham has done something with himself, I can do the same"?
He spreads his meagre intellect
over the weeping plaster of the Marshalsea.
And leaves his wife to fend for herself.
A fine man, indeed. A kind man, indeed!
A very pretty speech, Joe.
You omitted a tiny detail.
Glanville leaves a wife and three children.
Come on. I'll walk you back to Geap Manor.
What did you say? Geap Manor?
Is that the place you have bought? Geap Manor?
Something amuses you, sir?
This is the shining beacon of modernity
- we have heard so much about? - It will be,
- once my improvements are complete. - Improvements?
The only way to improve that property,
is to raze it to the ground and sow the land with salt.
- What the devil do you mean? - It's nothing, Joe.
You are new to these parts. It's the house.
People say...
They do, do they? What?
Ghouls?
Spooks?
Well, I hereby give notice to any ghosts in residence.
Joseph Bloxham is moving in!
"Unfinished or no,
"it is time I showed that jackanapes Coil,
"that I mean business.
"Mayhap by installing myself under his boots,
"he will be encouraged to expedite matters."
I see the importing of a cat has had no result.
Well, he shan't get the better of me, sir!
Please! Please, I implore you!
For the sake of my children! Please!
You, you've a face as long as Jack Ketch's Drop.
What ails you, sir?
I was only thinking how the fellows in the Exchange would laugh
if they knew Joseph Bloxham was afraid of a mouse
in the wainscoting.
Beg pardon?
Good night, Nick.
What...
What are you?
I deny it!
I deny it all!
This cannot be.
Late again? Hm?
Friend Bloxham.
A little. We had an appointment.
May I?
I'll not gainsay it. Something is troubling him.
Conscience?
Not Joe.
Could it be the house, do you think?
Geap Manor living up to its evil name?
Nonsense.
You know, when I was a lad,
we used to like to play in the grounds of the old place.
One day,
my fellows
played a trick on me.
Left me there.
Alone.
And though the sun was blazing down...
Bless me, I can hear
the drone of the bumblebees even now
and smell the jasmine in the garden.
I felt so afraid.
Clammy
with terror.
Alone there.
With the Manor
seeming to stare down at me.
Its windows
like the half-closed eyes of a corpse.
Did you...
Did you see anything?
But the sensation...
the dread...
has never left me.
Which is why, my dear Nick, I...
do not envy Joseph Bloxham his tenancy.
He has...
spoken to me of it. Only a little, mind you.
It seems that there is...
something not quite right about the wainscoting.
The wainscoting?
He says that there is...
something...
in it.
- But the stuff is new, is it not? - It's the finest timber
- the builder could buy, so he says. - Then...
Perhaps it is not as strange as it sounds.
Geap Manor has always...
drawn evil to it
as a sponge draws water.
- What's the name of the builder? - Coil.
- I think I may pay Master Coil a visit. - With what purpose?
The laying of a ghost.
And the plastering on the upper landing?
All complete, sir. As promised.
Excellent.
There was some blockage of the waterspouts. The lead flashing?
I have a fellow on to the matter, sir. He'll be attending to it next week.
That's the end of it, then.
Why, sir.
This is a queer thing.
- What? - There was I imagining
you could not wait to see our coat-tails,
and now you seem anxious that we remain!
Is there something amiss?
Nothing.
Very well, Master Coil. I thank you for a job well done.
The account will be settled by the end of the month.
I fancy that you are not particularly interested
in mercantile affairs.
- If you want me to be, I will. - No, no, my pet.
We should talk of other,
sweeter matters...
- I was beginning to think... - Are you busy?
- Or could you stand a companion? - I am always yours, chum.
Lucy, gin for Mr Bloxham.
I am here to celebrate.
- The work on the Manor is done. - At last!
- And no more...? - I do not wish to discuss that.
Let us get bosky on Blue Tape
- and converse with the living! - That's more like it!
So, was you thinking of some building work yourself, sir?
My rate is very competitive, though if I say so...
We shall come to all that in due course.
- First, a question or two. - Of course, sir.
In the matter of paints.
I favour a mixture with oil added, sir.
Though the odour is noisome for a day or two,
the final effect is very wonderful.
And green is very fashionable.
What of that marvellous wainscoting in Mr Bloxham's drawing room?
- A lovely job. - Good solid timber?
Indeed, sir.
Where did it come from?
We are men, are we not, Nick?
Last time I opened my britches, certainly!
I mean we are men.
- Creatures of reason. - We are not mere savages.
I can't vouch for Sam Clegg over yonder.
But, yes.
- What the devil are you driving at? - Then reason must triumph.
I shall find out the cause of it.
That again. I thought you did not wish
- to discuss... - Never mind what I said!
Are you with me? Shall we root this thing out?
Come, sir. The timber?
- Where did you get it? - It was excellent stuff!
- No rubbish! - I don't doubt it.
They tore it down two year back.
All that lovely wood.
Seemed a shame to waste it.
Tore down what?
Tyburn, sir.
Tyburn Tree.
You mean to say
Bloxham's wainscots are made from a gibbet?
Not just any gibbet, sir!
Tyburn Tree!
All three legs of the old girl.
My old mum didn't like having the timber in the house.
Reckoned it should've been burned.
Burned? Why?
She said it held too many memories.
Too much blood.
Mebbes it might have a taste for it, she said.
Mebbes...
it might still be hungry.
Have I given offence, sir? What is it?
It is the sound of bumblebees, Master Coil.
The scent of jasmine.
Good night.
We must venture, Nick.
You see, in life, just as in commerce.
It makes no odds. Risk. Risk is all.
And what greater hazard
could we engage in than the greatest mystery of them all?
Which is?
What lies beyond the veil?
Is there a power beyond the earthly?
A power which...
somehow stretches out and...
What is it?
Joseph?
Are you unwell?
Do you not hear that?
Hear what?
Really, Joseph, you've been too much alone in this house.
There! Surely you must hear that.
The wind. Soughing in the chimneys.
There's not a breath of wind tonight.
Most remarkable.
- Let's not stay here tonight, Joe. - Look!
What are you, shade?
What do you want with me?
What are you?
Not me!
You shall not claim me!
Nicholas? What the devil?
Open up, for pity's sake!
Open up!
Conscience, I expect.
All those poorly investors who lost their shot.
Conscience?
Hanged himself.
But at least, it count to the official version.
- As you see. - But there were other things, stories.
- Really, I mustn't keep... - Please.
- It's fascinating. - All right, then.
If you're okay.
You know the saying...
"Something old, something new,
- "something borrowed, something blue." - Of course.
Something...
old...