
Angel
(church bell ringing)
- Huh!
(tinkling)
- Miss Angelica!
(tinkling)
Come along! Quickly now.
Now remember,
Miss Angelica,
finish your studies.
Come on, in you go.
(horses neighing)
Come on!
Nice clear voices, please.
(knocking)
Come in.
Well, well, Miss Deverell returns.
I hope this time
you have a better excuse
for your absence.
- I've been sick, Miss Dawson.
- And being sick has prevented
you from writing your essay.
- No. I've done it.
- Then perhaps you'd care
to share it with the class.
- Of course I will.
- Shh, shh, shh...!
(girl coughing)
- "In the depths of the forest,
"sheltered from the four winds
"by ancient oaks
"whose leaves in summertime
offer a blessed shade,
"stands, stark against the vast
vacuity of the empyrean,
"a great house
"cherished by the gods,
on whose steps
"iridescent-feathered peacocks
sometimes strut,
sheltered from the furious
lightening-veined storm--"
- You obviously read
a great deal, Miss Deverell.
- No, I never read.
- You're quite sure you haven't
been stealing from Mr Dickens
or Miss Corelli?
- So what do you do
in your spare time?
- I play the harp, mostly.
(class laughing)
- You'll get no marks
for this essay, Miss Deverell.
Your homework
was to describe where you live,
and unless I'm mistaken,
you do not live in a great house
cherished by the gods,
but over your mother's
grocery shop.
(class laughing)
And now the next one.
Miss Brown, I think.
- Angel!
Uh, I'm so sorry,
I won't be a minute.
Robert, would you take over
here for me, please? Thank you.
I want a word with you,
young lady.
- What is it now?
- You wicked girl.
How dare you say those things
about your father!
"Not my real father"?
"Daughter of an aristocrat"?
look in front of my customers?
- Who cares
about your customers?
- We'd have nothing today
if your father hadn't set up
this business.
D'you understand?
- What I understand
is that one day, because of me,
the name of Deverell will shine
throughout the world with glory.
- That's enough! Your lies
will be the death of me!
(laughing)
- I can just see the headlines:
"Grocer found dead -
suicide suspected as mother
of literary prodigy is discov--"
How dare you hit me!?
- I'm sorry, but I'm sick of it.
- "In 1885,
"into one of the oldest
and most illustrious families
"in all England...
"... was born a lively
and adorable-looking child,
"who, in later years,
"at the pinnacle of her glory
and renown,
"would be known to the world
as Lady Irania."
- Angel, your dinner's ready.
- Leave me alone.
- Madam says she's looking
for a servant for her daughter,
Miss Angelica.
I'm wondering
to Paradise House, hasn't she?
- Why, Lottie...
that would be
a wonderful opportunity!
- And that way,
if she gives up school,
people won't think
she's been expelled -
which could be bad
for business, Emmy.
- Angel,
sweetheart, your aunt's got
some wonderful news.
to Paradise House.
- Really?
Because school told me
you've been writing
- Never like that!
- Never like what?
- Never like you, Aunt Lottie:
serving other people.
nothing to be ashamed of.
We're all servants of God.
- Well, you won't make me
a servant of any kind.
- Of course, I was forgetting.
Humility and selfishness
count for nothing in this world!
- Calm down, Lottie. And, Angel,
apologize to your aunt.
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"Angel" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 2 Oct. 2023. <https://www.scripts.com/script/angel_2850>.
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