This is Masterpiece.

Previously on "Indian Summers."

AAFRIN: He must have had a wretched fright.

RALPH: Worse than that-- he had a heart attack.

CYNTHIA: Viceroy of India one year early.

Take it, take it, take it!

Drink, drink.

ALICE: He's Percy's father.

AAFRIN: As long as you're both happy.

ALICE: Yes.

AAFRIN: Now I can forget you.

Butter wouldn't melt.

You found the culprit?

Oh, yes.

We hope to smoke him out tonight.

That's him!

(gunshot) "Indian Summers," tonight on Masterpiece.

♪ ♪ (birds chirping) (shouting) Kaira?

Thank God you're here.

Come.

My God.

He crawled back before first light and sent word to me in the bazaar.

And the doctor?

Where is he?

He's coming.

Kaira?

When is the doctor coming?

Please... We can't leave him.

You send for the doctor this moment!

We'll say this never happened.

No, Aafrin.

Aafrin, you're a good man with a good, strong heart.

But you don't want to admit what we both know.

He's poison.

He finds enemies everywhere he goes.

He says blood must be shed, so why not his?

This is our chance.

We could just do nothing.

Nothing.

We could shut this door and be free.

No.

I can't.

And nor can you.

We fetch the doctor right away.

As you wish.

I'll be missed.

I have to go.

You say you shot him?

ROWNTREE: Oh, I got him all right, sir.

We followed his trail down...

Through the woods?

Yes, sir.

Did you see him in the water, Superintendent?

No.

No, we camped out here till first light, sir, then we stepped up the search.

You remember Dalal.

He plies his trade in the Home Department nowadays.

Ah.

My congratulations, sir.

Thank you.

RALPH: Keep looking.

No let-up till we have our man.

Right, sir.

Unless he drowned.

Then I suppose we'd never find him.

(shouting) Sir.

Lead on.

ROWNTREE: What have we got?

Is it him?

Bloody vagrant!

RALPH: Carry on.

AAFRIN: Superintendent?

Sir?

Forgive me, but I ask myself, if he was wounded, with the slow current, might our chap have let himself float away further downstream?

Yes, that makes sense.

Do as he says.

Better spread yourselves downstream.

Right you are, sir.

Sergeant!

Downstream!

AAFRIN: Sir, may I ask, who was he?

Banerjee.

Naresh Banerjee.

He was in Congress once.

Not anymore-- terrorist.

He's from Bengal, your old stomping ground.

I'll have the file sent over if it's of use.

Mr. McLeod!

How long has it been?

More days than I care to count.

All well, comrade?

As you see, busy.

Don't touch him!

And you think this Banerjee was the man behind the assault on the viceroy?

Yes, I'm certain of it.

An informant gave me his name.

Will you ride back with me?

No, I'll come after.

I have a little more to ascertain for my report.

How very comprehensive.

Sounds like quite the page-turner.

(birds chirping) (jaunty music playing) Your Excellency.

Enough of that.

Well, Freeman, it's a hell of a house.

The vicereine detests it.

Oh, does she?

Oh, I've got something for you.

Put it.

What's this?

Greeks bearing gifts?

Open it.

What is it?

I don't know.

Champagne?

Ah.

Ah!

Oh, bad luck.

How kind.

Uh, Whelan, Lord Hawthorne.

How do you do?

Your Lordship.

Whelan, yes, I've come across the name.

You're India born and bred, is that right?

Yes, I suppose I am.

Good!

Good.

Well, I want to see everything there is to see.

Please.

Whelan... A moment, if you have it.

Rather bad news, I'm afraid.

I have been rather putting it off.

(sighs) But I thought it was just a routine visit from the India Office in London.

Yes, that's what we were told, but now we discover Hawthorne is here on a mission of his own.

Which is?

He has been strongly advised the job is as good as his.

My job!

The next Viceroy of this benighted nation, I tell you.

A man who presumably has not been further east than Felixstowe!

Not that it matters a jot when you've got a title parked at the front of your name.

I'm so sorry.

Old friend of Willingdon, of course.

Coward.

Why didn't he tell you sooner?

"Embarrassed," so he claims.

I should have listened to Cynthia.

I should have sent the old man packing when I had the chance.

And you know what the worst of it is?

What's the worst of it?

He's coming here tomorrow for his bloody lunch!

What are you going to do?

Oh, I don't know, get cook to boil up some chicken or something.

I meant generally.

Mm!

No, better than that.

I'll get him to lay on some of that famous chilli mutton.

The one that had Bhupi in bed for a week last summer.

If Hawthorne wants all of India, let's hope he can stand the heat.

Cook!

Cook!

(sighs) Adam.

Memsahib?

What is that?

Show me.

Where did you get this?

The sahib gave it to me.

Well, he had no right.

He had no right to do that.

This book belonged to my brother.

I'll put it back.

Off you go.

Alice Havistock with the munshi?

You're quite certain that's what you saw?

You weren't mistaken?

Memsahib wishes me to demonstrate?

No, thank you, Kaiser.

Not if you value that great lump on your shoulders.

It's the only one I have, memsahib.

Well, we have to make the best of it then, don't we?

May I ask, what will you do?

(sighs) You will put a stop to it?

No, there's no point.

Don't be fooled by Alice.

She won't listen to a word I say.

She's the spit of her damn mother, that's the truth of it.

And look how that ended up.

No.

Something needs to be done.

For Ralphie's sake.

Shh.

(whispering): Where shall we go?

What would you like to do?

Miss Alice.

Bhupi.

There is somebody for you.

Somebody?

Where?

On the lane.

Oh.

I'll see you in a minute.

♪ ♪ I am sorry to disturb.

Leena?

Oh, my God.

A long time ago, this lady saved Adam from the railway track, and she saved his life.

(people chatting) Kaira?

Kaira?

(clattering) What is this?

You told them!

Naresh, for God's sake, if I wished you dead, think: what am I doing here?

Why do I go out at great risk to fetch the doctor that saved your life?

Kaira fetched the doctor!

I swear we played no part in all this, Naresh-da!

No.

No, I was betrayed.

You... You go back to your office.

You get me evidence and you come back tomorrow.

Kaira-- where is she?

Or, make no mistake, I will come to your house, and your father with his weak heart, and your mother, and all your pretty sisters...

So you find out, understand?

Tomorrow.

Go.

So...

Happy you came?

Yes, Auntie.

Father.

Good.

Uh, you're not to call me that.

"Father."

Not yet.

It's not that I'm not proud of you.

I am.

It won't be for long, though, will it?

No, not long, not long.

It's just a bit of an awkward time for me at the moment, yes?

ADAM: Yes, sahib.

RALPH: Now, shall we try some of this coffee?

All right.

(coughing) Don't worry, you'll grow into it, I promise.

I didn't like it the first time I tried it.

I got a taste for it from your mother.

Who I was very fond of.

As I am you.

Come on.

See?

Told you so.

Yes, quite right.

Much better to break the ice.

You can be so stuffy at times.

Stop it.

Funny seeing Dalal again.

RALPH: Yes, poor chap.

Serious-minded as ever.

ALICE: Yes.

RALPH: Go on.

ALICE: Well, one remembers him so clearly, and then standing here today, I wondered if we ever really knew him at all.

Yes, perhaps you're right.

There she is!

Charlie.

Time for your lie down, isn't it?

Yes, of course.

Come on, I'll lullaby you to sleep, shall I?

As you like.

Lucky girl.

Oh, oh...

But what did he say?

Naresh is convinced I gave him up to the police.

Did you?

No!

Kaira, you know he has always claimed we have a British spy in our camp.

Naresh is a madman, and I told you we should have just let him die.

I know.

Still...

If there is an informant, there will also be a file.

Why?

Because there is always a file.

And I think I know where to find it.

Ah!

Aren't you clever?

Be serious.

(laughs) Look at me.

Should I look?

Don't ask me.

You have all the answers, it seems.

Tell me.

I love you.

I know.

You do what you want.

But what have you got him up here for?

Oh, he wants to see the real India, so I've been giving him a proper tour.

Oh, yeah?

What does that entail?

Well, he had his wallet stolen at the monkey temple.

(laughs) Down to the bazaar for tea and typhoid.

After that, it was either bring him up here or take him to the barracks brothel.

Well, some of us have been better occupied.

Now listen to me, Ralphie, I sent word to... Well, it doesn't matter who to.

She operates the switchboard at the Colonial Office and she hasn't heard a dicky bird connecting Hawthorne with any prospect out here in the East.

It's over!

The job's his, Willingdon told me!

Be a man.

Nothing is real till it's written down in triplicate.

We haven't worked all these years to give up now.

(music playing) (laughing) I'm going to tell my wife about you.

Ha!

Be my guest.

Poor love.

Her eyes will pop out of her head!

(laughs) MAN: I say, Whelan!

Where is he?

Here I am!

Ah!

Present and correct.

Shall we make a move?

Ralphie!

♪ Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross ♪ ♪ To see a fine lady upon a white horse ♪ ♪ With rings on her fingers and bells... ♪ Ayah?

Sahib.

My wife?

Gone with Miss Prasad to the Mission School.

Good girl.

(humming song) Visitors!

The Montgomerys were very kind people, but they decided the children should be packed off to school, so there was no need for a governess.

And since, what have you been doing?

This and that.

Miss Prasad is going to teach my son for a bit.

Just until she gets herself sorted out.

Living where?

I expect we'll find you digs.

In the bazaar.

Excuse me, but where are the other children?

They've gone.

Into good homes.

Good people.

Jacob's off tomorrow, aren't you?

He's been taken in by a tailor in Dharamsala, and then it'll just be the three of them.

We're going back to England.

Passage all booked.

DOUGIE: In a few weeks' time.

We'll be a real family again.

My congratulations.

We should leave you in peace.

Nice of you to drop in, Miss Whelan.

Havistock.

Oh, yes.

Hopeless with names.

I wanted to come.

I didn't want to pass through Simla without taking the time to visit.

Goodbye.

It'll start up again, won't it?

All the talk.

Sticks and stones.

Easy for you to say.

I kept my promise.

I never laid hands on that woman.

Yes, thank you, that's quite vivid enough for my imagination.

A few more weeks.

That's all.

Dalal!

You're a long way from home.

Returning a file, sir.

Like days of yore.

What have we got here?

Naresh Banerjee.

Our terrorist.

Well, if you run into him, kindly get him to assassinate our guest.

I'll consider it a personal favor.

Whelan!

Good luck, sir.

Well, it's his go.

Excuse me, sir?

I'm sorry, and you are?

Head clerk.

To Mr. Whelan.

Ah.

It's all right.

I'm just leaving a file.

The document is confidential, you understand.

Um...

It's safe in my hands, sir.

Of course.

Thank you.

So, the Government of India Act...?

Yes, common sense carried the day.

Churchill was apoplectic.

Any transfer of power to the Indians... oof!

Too much for the poor fellow.

Still, we got the thing passed into law, that's the main thing.

Over to you lot.

To do what?

Well, to bring the changes into effect.

(scoffs) But this act of yours, not only is it a decade too late, but it falls far short of the demands made to us by the Congress nationalists here in India.

WILLINGDON: Not all of them.

Plenty on their side willing to compromise.

Not those with any influence.

Messrs Nehru and Gandhi are calling for outright independence, not a set of muddled reforms.

Shall we adjourn for some tea?

(mallet smacks ball) So what do you propose?

We need something of substance.

A message of real change that we can sell to these people, or we'll be left... Or what?

What?

I'll tell you what.

You'll get the message you're given, and if you can't sell it, we'll jolly well shoot the messenger and get some other bugger along who can.

WILLINGDON: Gentlemen!

Shall we?

HAWTHORNE: Well, here we are.

Into the long grass he goes.

Hah!

(mallet smacks ball) Ah, bad luck.

That was very close.

(phone ringing) Subu?

Sir?

Minutes from the India Office.

It was in their last dispatch.

You know, don't worry.

I'll get it myself.

(ringing continues) RALPH: Whelan.

AAFRIN: You know, I had a damn close shave taking this thing.

My heart was going like a train, I tell you.

Here.

It's a transcript of a conversation Whelan had with a spy.

It could be anyone.

I was seen, Kaira.

I was seen by the printer and I was given up.

And then this informant character says no.

"No, the person you want is Naresh Banerjee."

To spare me.

And who would do that?

Hm?

Who in the world but you?

How long?

How long have you been working for Whelan?

Five years-- it's all in the file.

How could you?

How could you do this?

His name is Tahir.

Who is he?

He's my son.

He was arrested in a riot in Lucknow and I went there to get him released, and I was introduced to this charming young Englishman.

Ralph Whelan?

And we made a bargain.

You tell me you wouldn't do the same, Aafrin.

You have a son?

Why didn't you tell me?

Because I was very young, and I cannot bear to think about it!

You give this file to Naresh and I'm as good as dead.

I know, but I have to talk to him.

I have to give him something.

I know, but...

This is what we'll do.

We'll get you out, we'll get you to the checkpoint, and then you have to run.

Run where?

Anywhere.

Just get down to the plains as far as you can.

We'll get you home-- home to your son.

Naresh has people everywhere, all over India.

I know.

But you have me.

This really is very good of you, Charlie.

There's no shame in it.

The... the cost of running a fine house.

One's bound to fall behind a bit.

It's more than a bit.

Yes, yes, it is.

Still... You can always count on me.

Family and all that.

Thank you.

Don't thank me.

Thank the bank.

Hello, Muddle.

Wish you wouldn't call her that.

It's playful.

Oh...

Hold still.

What is it?

Do you know, I think I might put it in a locket.

What do you think?

(woman calling) Not often I get asked over.

Thought I'd come early.

What is that godawful smell?

Lunch.

They call it "Running Mutton."

Doesn't hang about, you see.

(laughs) CHARLIE: It's Mrs. S!

Now, you, dear?

Yes?

I want your advice.

Oh, and it's "C," not "S." Mrs. C, if you must.

For Coffin.

Ah.

Uh, Ralphie?

Think your fellow's been taken ill or something.

RALPH: Bhupinder?

(claps loudly) You can't keep doing this.

Sorry, sahib.

You were seen.

Oh, yes?

In my club!

With munshi.

Now, you may drag yourself into the sewer as you see fit, but your brother?

His whole future in the balance?

It makes me sick.

Makes me sick to the stomach.

Does he know?

Ralphie?

No.

Would it help if I told you it's finished?

It's over and done with.

Oh, yes, a very fond farewell, I must say!

Now go and pack.

What?

You'll leave tonight.

Tomorrow, if you have to.

I can't get up and leave.

I don't see why not.

I'm sure you'll come up with some excuse.

Tell him you're pregnant.

I don't think Charlie would fall for that one.

Oh.

Still, you married him.

It's your duty to stand by him.

Seems like a good chap.

Ah!

Champagne?

Oh, lovely.

Al.

Cheers.

Thank you.

Tell me, why does he persist in calling me... What is it?

"Mrs. S"?

No idea.

Liar.

Back in England, Charlie had a... Oh, what do you call it?

Madeleine... No, a... A "char" named Mrs. Sparrow to, I don't know, scrub out the bathroom, haul out the coal...

I know what a char is.

Well, according to Charlie, you and this Mrs. Sparrow are like two peas in a pod.

Oh, well.

I dare say I've been called worse.

Where's Dalal?

I thought he was getting here early.

Don't be afraid, and don't give them your real name.

Kamala Mukerjee.

Thank you.

Go, go.

Papers?

Name?

Kamala Mukerjee.

MAN: Look up.

Ma, can we please eat now?

I'm so hungry.

Yes, yes, won't be long!

Aafrin is working late.

He said don't wait for him.

I'm not, I know!

Why are you all... What?

...dressed up?

Oh, what a notion!

I'm not dressed up.

The best table cloth, the good crockery... Ma, what is all this fuss in aid of?

What is that child talking about?

Don't drag me into this.

SOONI: Drag you into what?

I'm simply preparing dinner.

Slowly preparing dinner.

(knocking) I wonder who that could be?

Shamshad, quickly, the door!

Deepal!

Roshana!

How nice to see you!

What a wonderful surprise.

Come in, come in.

Well, we were just passing, and I remember you telling me that if we were ever passing that I should call, so... And I'm very glad you did!

Surprised, but glad!

This is Boman.

Oh!

How very nice to meet you, Boman.

Hello.

Your aunt has spoken so much about you.

Oh.

And what a very fine boy you are too!

Thank you.

Sooni, say hello to Boman.

Hello, Boman.

Hello.

Come and sit.

You must join us for dinner.

Why don't you sit here next to Sooni, hm?

Now, I've made a very simple meal.

RALPH: Here we are!

India on a plate!

(sniffing) What do you make of it, Your Lordship?

Looks intrepid.

(laughs) It's a local recipe.

I forget the name.

But please, tuck in.

Plenty of gravy, that's the ticket.

It helps to purge any lingering bacteria.

(coughing) (laughs) Whelan, you spoil us.

(laughing) Ah, Dalal!

Ah, Parsi!

Your Excellency.

My apologies for the delay.

RALPH: Working?

I'm afraid so.

Shoulder to the wheel.

Shovel it in, that's the way.

Tell him to stop all this.

HAWTHORNE: Is there any more wine?

I can't control him.

Bhupinder, please, pour away.

(sighs) Eat up, Mrs. Coffin.

CYNTHIA: I already ate, thank you.

Are you all right, old chap?

Yes, sahib.

"Sahib."

Three bags full, sahib.

Sweet suffering Jesus, what's she doing here?

Fine looking woman.

Oh, yeah.

Quite famous for it at one time.

Aren't you going to introduce us?

Excuse me, my dear!

Why is she here?

ALICE: She's here at my request.

As a teacher for Percy.

I knew you wouldn't mind.

HAWTHORNE: In the presence of the Viceroy, what do we do?

We curtsey.

We... Curtsey.

Yes!

(laughs) Exiting as we go, just so.

Just so.

(laughs) Ever the clown.

Mm.

Oh, encore!

Encore, atta boy.

I need to talk to you.

(laughing continues) So Boman, what do you do?

I... My nephew has just completed his law degree.

Really?

Yes.

Sooni, did you hear that?

I'd be worried if I didn't.

I am sitting at the same table.

(laughing): Sooni.

That's funny, because Sooni herself has just completed her law degree.

Isn't that a coincidence?

Where did you study, Sooni?

Bombay.

The education of women is a wonderful thing.

An educated man should have an educated wife.

Makes it so much more interesting for him.

Mm.

The education of women is a wonderful thing because it is the key to our independence.

It will allow us to have our own careers, to support ourselves.

It will give us the freedom to choose whether or not we even wish to marry.

It is every woman's desire to be a wife.

ROSHANA: Ah, yes.

SOONI: It's all we've ever known.

And of course, the other issue... We don't need to hear about any other issue.

I'd like to hear the other issue.

There'll be no more issues.

Do you know, I think I'd quite like some cake.

But you haven't even finished your food.

Let's all have some cake.

Sooni and I will fetch it-- come on.

Both of us?

That's right.

Both of us fetch the cake?

Now, Sooni.

I'll help.

It's a big cake.

I don't see what you've got against him.

He's educated, he's good-looking...

He has one eyebrow, Daddy.

But two eyes.

"Wait-- wait," she said, "until I finish my schooling."

So I waited.

"No, not yet.

I have to go to college now."

So again, I waited.

Three, almost three years, at great expense to her brother.

You're 22 now, Sooni.

Mom, please... You're not a child anymore.

This is your dream now.

You could help me organize it, especially the music... Well, what a finely turned suicide note this afternoon is turning out to be.

Oh, I don't know, he seems to be enjoying himself.

This has gone quite far enough.

Oh, we're just getting started.

Look, you're going to have to work with the man, whether you like it or not, so there's no use in acting like a spoiled child.

No, I win or I lose.

Can't just soldier on.

We're not done yet.

Every chap has his weakness.

AAFRIN: Yes, Bhupi?

A message for you.

Excuse me.

I arrive late and now I must go.

So soon?

My father has been taken ill.

Please, Bhupinder, show the man out.

Thank you.

CYNTHIA: And off I go, running like the mutton.

(laughing): Mrs. Coffin!

So sorry to interrupt, Your Lordship.

Want to come with me a moment?

Thank you.

Yeah.

Now, Ralph-- Mr. Whelan-- has asked me to speak to you, woman-to-woman and all that.

Now, the reason you've fallen... Well, the reason you can't hold a job down for any length of time is that your reputation's been following you around a bit, hasn't it, dear?

You brought me here to insult me... Let's have less of the dramatics.

Sit down.

Now, all your dalliances with the missionary chappie have been very damaging...

Nothing occurred between Mr. Raworth and myself.

That's as may be, but folks round here don't tend to let the truth get in the way of a good piece of gossip.

Now, you listen to me.

Mr. Whelan has given you an opportunity.

Do not abuse his trust.

I have no intention of telling anyone about Adam.

Good girl.

Knew you'd understand.

Baapi?

Baapi?

Baapi?

Back so soon?

Are you well?

Yeah.

Just nodded off for 40 winks.

Where is Ma?

All this trouble with your sister...

I tell you, we are all at our wits' end.

Hello!

Who is this?

Tell your father.

A colleague from work.

His name is... Krishna.

Pleased to make your acquaintance at last.

(winces) Oh, sorry.

Nasty infection, sir.

Hurts like the devil.

Aafrin, sir, do you have that file I requested?

Yes.

Come.

I'll fetch it now.

No, you fetch and I'll wait here.

With your father.

Please, can I trouble you to just fetch a chair?

Of course.

One, two... (mimicking trumpet) ♪ Oh, the Camptown ladies sing this song ♪ ♪ Doodah, doodah ♪ ♪ The Camptown racetrack's five miles long ♪ ♪ Oh, de-doo-da... ♪ (playing wrong notes) I got at-home lessons, but we do get experimental, don't we, when drink is taken?

(laughs) And again!

Come on, everyone, join in!

No slacking at the back, Lord Wellington!

(laughs) One, two... (mimics trumpet) ♪ Oh, the Camptown ladies sing this song ♪ ♪ Doodah, doodah!

♪ ♪ The Camptown racetrack's five miles long ♪ ♪ Oh, de-doo-da-day!

♪ ♪ Oh, I come down there with my hat caved in ♪ ♪ Doodah, doodah... ♪ Ah, who's this?

Great-Uncle Toby.

Infantryman in the 32nd Cornish.

Fierce-looking brute.

I know!

Died in the Mutiny, so the story goes.

HAWTHORNE: Oh, how did he die?

It really...

They cut off his hands and threw him down a well.

Ah, here comes the cake!

Do you like cake?

Depends what's in it.

I bet you like cake, don't you?

What about Vivian?

She likes cake too.

(piano playing stops) CHARLIE: Oh, come on, darling.

Don't let the team down.

Once again, for Percy!

(slapping in time to the beat) One, two, one, two, one, two... (mimics trumpet) ♪ Oh... ♪ (piano not playing) Just worn out, aren't you?

And again!

This time, I am quite certain she'll get it.

Alice... Don't rag her.

She wants to play.

Don't you, Muddle?

(loudly): Alice.

Alice.

(chuckling) (gently): I know, I know... (sobbing) Oh, sweetheart... Al?

I... What?

Say it.

I have to go home.

I have to go home.

You are home.

This is your home.

No.

You do realize I go whole days at a time wanting to kill that man?

Every time I see him, I want to rip out his throat.

But I have him here, under my roof.

Do you know why?

Because I get you.

And if I get you here, it means you're not alone.

Do you see?

Hm?

Come on, you'll be all right.

(music playing) Ralph?

I need to ask you something.

It's, um... ...about the houseboy.

Sweetie... Will you please look at me for one second?

Better?

It's about the houseboy.

Adam?

Is he my son?

Yes.

Yes!

Isn't it obvious?

Sure it is.

If you know what to look for.

HAWTHORNE: Whelan!

Can you live with it?

Three years go by.

Did you...?

Did you forget to mention it?

I say, Whelan!

I want to hear more about your family.

Go.

Sir.

His Lordship was asking about your daddy.

RALPH: Latterly a district officer in Poona.

CYNTHIA: Oh, he was a brilliant man.

He would have gone all the way.

Sadly died, during the war.

Active service?

No.

Typhoid, in a hospital bed in Bombay.

Oh.

Well, that's a pity.

Will you come with me?

Where are you going?

We're going to steal the viceroy's car.

Please, I have to return it.

I'll take the greatest care.

A regular informant.

Yes.

And you see these dates here?

Here?

These dates are before I even met you, so it cannot possibly be me who betrayed you.

Yes.

Yes, yes, I see that.

There can be no argument.

The question is, if not you, then who?

That's the real mystery.

I should probably go.

No, no, wait, wait.

Just five minutes.

Chalo!

You asleep in there?

Come on, let's go, lovebirds.

Let's go!

Sh, sh... Come!

What do you see?

I see heaven and earth.

But you... You see something else.

Yes.

What?

Home?

Home, yes.

My father used to bring us up here, my sister and I.

He'd point at all the mountain peaks and we'd take turns naming them, one by one.

Long time ago now.

Sir, you put it about that you're to be our next viceroy?

Yes.

But you're not about to be anything of the sort.

(laughing) All these questions about my family.

You're here for me.

To see if I'm up to the job.

So I am.

Well, viceroys do tend to come from the aristocracy.

Yes, I am aware of that.

But you know, there's a school of thought in London which says things need to be different this time around.

A younger man.

A grasp of the terrain.

You see where I'm going with this?

Yes.

So tell me, why do you want the job?

I gather it was my father's dying wish.

Indeed?

Well, it seems to me-- and correct me if I'm wide of the mark here-- but this world of yours, this great calling... Well, we can eke it out for a few more years, throw them a few... what was it, "muddled reforms"?

Sir, I wouldn't take that at face value.

So do you support the bill?

Of course I support the bill.

But I ask myself...

Sometimes we reach a moment where we face a choice if only we had the will to see it.

What sort of choice do you have in mind?

This summer, say we were to do the unthinkable: place India on the same footing as Australia or Canada.

(protesting): Australia and Canada?

But if the will was there!

Self-rule for India, her own government, but with all due deference to King and Empire.

Not going to happen.

No, no, you'd never get that through the Commons, not in 100 years.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

(sighs) So tell me, Ralph, do you still want the job?

You happy to go down in history as the clown who gave up an empire?

Say you're right.

Say we can't stay on here.

Let me be the one who knew how to leave.

Let me be the one who got it right.

I think this is far enough.

So... Shall we take a look at what Aafrin-bhai has brought us?

Show it to her.

And these records, they go back how far?

Seven years.

Seven, yes.

So that is good news for the Parsi.

Aafrin cannot be blamed, since in those days, he was not among us.

I told you.

Such courage she has!

Leave her be.

But Sergeant Singh had his fellow at the checkpoint look for your description, Kaira.

Not only that, he said look out for a companion: the Parsi.

In his British suit.

Aafrin!

Aafrin!

Wait!

She did nothing!

Me-- I am the one who lied to you.

Aafrin... Aafrin!

This file?

You think I can't fabricate some administrative document?

This?

This is nothing.

You wish to punish me?

Fine.

I am at your mercy.

Fire away.

You fabricated the documents?

Yes.

Recording my precise location up and down India, from seven years back to the present?

How is that possible?

I made it up.

I swear to God.

I took facts from your court records.

I stuck them all together.

And why go through all this trouble?

Because of you!

You see enemies everywhere.

You want evidence.

You make threats against my family.

Fine!

I will give you evidence!

Then why did she run?

Because she is afraid!

And so am I.

No one has betrayed you, brother.

No one!

There is no Black Kite!

You have no reason to be afraid.

(gunshot) (ears ringing) (spits) No!

You see?

You see, Parsi?

Black Kite?

Don't you know, brother?

The code name!

It's the very name I used to call her!

(crying) (laughing) Parsi!

(screaming) Fire!

Next time on Masterpiece.

SOONI: Shot?

Such lies!

Another woman dead, and nobody cares to ask why.

WILLINGDON: He's our greatest chance to persuade the other princes to support the bill.

Win him round.

AAFRIN: Final ball!

RONNIE: Come on, old love!

"Indian Summers," next time on Masterpiece.

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