Poldark 3.06

Mild content warning for spousal abuse and rape.

Previously: Morwenna was forced to marry Whitworth. Enys is coping. George is an asshole.

A fire rages with a village celebration, and there’s music and dancing. Sam sits uncomfortably at all of this frivolous gaiety, then Tholly strides in, announcing that he’s the new gravedigger. “Graverobber, you mean?” laughs Ross. Tholly also now has a daughter, Emma, who zeros in on the cute brooder in the corner and asks if he doesn’t dance. Sam is like no, it’s a sin.

Tholly asks what the party is about, and Zacky tells him it’s the celebrate the land give to them by Ross. Tholly’s like you did what now? Sam piouses that the good lord gave Ross the idea to give the land “For which we are all grateful.” (Tholly rolls his eyes). Emma dances, and Sam watches her.

Drake is sad.

George and Constable Goon lock the door of a grain warehouse, and as they are leaving, George tells Goon that they need to up the security at all of the grain warehouses, none of these wretches would think twice about stuffing themselves at George’s expense. At that moment, Sir Francis approaches, flanked by cronies. George is happy to see him. “I assume you’ve heard the news? My elevation to the rank of burgess.” Sir Francis assumes that George has not heard the news – their MP died. “Most distressing!” simpers George, but once Sir Francis is out of earshot, George is smug. “The best news I’ve had all year!”

At the Whitworth vicarage, Whitworth comes into his room to find Morwenna praying with one of his daughters. He snaps that it’s enough, “You must know the book of prayer by heart by now!” She asks him if it’s not her duty to his daughters, and he says that her duty to her husband is more “pressing.” I need this asshole to die. She sends the poor kid on her way, and stands up. She’s pregnant. Visibly pregnant. Whitworth gestures her to the bed, and she lays down, despair writ all over her face.

He needs to die painfully.

Drake is sad.

D is cuddled up with Ross and wishes that Drake and Sam would find contentment. “Have you found it?” Ross asks. D smiles at him. At the moment, yes. Ross wishes it could last.

At Trenwith, Aggie is getting fitted for the new gown she wanted for her birthday, and crowing how she’ll be 100 years old next week. George looks like he has a migraine. Aggie tells Elizabeth to add some people to the list for the party, but… “They’re dead, aunt. Don’t you remember?” Aggie demands to see the list, notes that Ross and D are on it, and is like great, people I actually like are coming. Cool.

George notes in an aside to Elizabeth that he will not have that man in his house. Elizabeth delicately notes that it is Aggie’s house, too (IT’S GEOFFY-CHUCK’S HOUSE DAMMIT). “Surely on her 100th birthday we can deliver to her this most frivolous request?” George grumbles that it’s an event that won’t give them an personal benefit. Happily, there’s the Penvennen wedding, which will give George more of a chance to further his acquaintance with Lord Falmouth. George explains that Truro lacks an MP, and Lord Falmouth is the one who tells the burgesses to vote for his candidate of choice. This does not seem very democratic.

Drake is sad, and bathes his sadness shirtless in the sea, much to the delight of the village girls.

Morwenna is also sad, sitting in the church as her useless rapist husband harranges from the pulpit.

D finds Ross in his study and tells him she thinks Drake still mourns for Morwenna. Ross rues the day she crossed his path, and D’s like yeah, because George was able to hurt them to hurt you. Ross is like welp, there won’t be any more negotiating or making terms with George, “Those days are over.” But he has also been making inquiries for Drake, who needs a life.

Ross and D bring Drake to the village smithy. The old blacksmith died last month, it’s got a cottage and a stable and Drake can smith, so…. Here you go, it’s yours. Drake’s like brother, no, it’s way too much! Ross is like nah, brah, you need a life, and you saved mine. Please take this one.

Aggie and Elizabeth are playing cards while George reads, and Elizabeth muses that it’s super quiet without G-C. Baby Val starts crying, and George says, well, happily, Valentine makes up for it. Aggie: not so happily it seems. Elizabeth is not convinced that Dr. Choake’s remedies for the poor kiddo’s rickets are actually working (I BET THEY ARE NOT). Darkened rooms, legs in splints, odious tinctures? George admits that they aren’t helping. Aggie thinks they should ditch Choake completely. George is like, and then do what?

WHO IS THE ONLY OTHER DOCTOR ON THIS SHOW? Enys reads a note to Caroline that Elizabeth has asked him to see the poor kid. Caro asks what he’ll do, and he’s like, well, I can’t go back to the Navy just yet, so I may as well be useful.

At Trenwith, Aggie proclaims that she would ditch the splints and the swaddlings and put the kid out in the fresh air. “Dr. Enys doesn’t subscribe to old wives tales!” Well, actually, he does though. Splints and swaddlings doesn’t do anything for rickets, and not being out in the light makes it worse. Fresh fruits, veggies, mother’s milk, sunlight, and there will be an improvement within days.

WHAT DID I SAY THREE WEEKS AGO. WHAT. I AM PRACTICALLY A DOCTOR.

Elizabeth asks about tinctures and powders, since Choake prescribed a bunch of shit. “Dr. Choake is a fucking fossil.” Says Enys (not really BUT HE’S THINKING IT.) “So my son with not be deformed?” George demands. Enys tells them to follow his instructions, and “you have every reason to be hopeful.” He leaves and George, who doesn’t hear words, smugs to Aggie that she was WRONG and he kid won’t be crippled so THERE. Aggie: he was born under a Black Moon. He may escape the rickets, but he can’t escape his parentage.

Enys reads a note by the fire, and Caroline, resplendent in white, enters behind him. “Husband dear? Shall we depart for our wedding?” He smiles at her, then holds up the note and asks if she’s been petitioning the admiralty. She says she has not, and he tells her that he’s considered unfit to resume his duties. He’s still smiling at her, so he’s not up in his feelings about this. “For your sake, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I daresay I can convalesce here a while longer.” He offers to escort her to church, and she takes his arm.

At the vicarage – God this is so gross:

At the reception, the great and good of Cornwall society is there. Ross and George glower from across the room. D smiles as Caro, who is so happy, and tells Ross that Caro “do bless you daily for bringing him home.” At this point, Whitworth and Morwenna are announced, and Elizabeth looks… discomfited. “Morwenna looks pale.” “Doubtless the brat is making her nauseous.” Shut up George. “Or her husband.” says Elizabeth, icily. Lord Falmouth is announced, and George lights up at the prospect of getting on Falmouth’s good side.

George tries to get Lord Falmouth’s attention, but Enys starts his speech, thanking them all for sharing in the day he became the happiest of men.

But he also thanks above all, one Captain Ross Vennor Poldark, who is the reason that Caro and Enys are Caro and Enys. He toasts Ross, and everyone takes part, except for George, and Elizabeth, who holds up her cup, but does not drink.

Lord Falmouth begs the indulgence of the crowd (Sir Francis twitches an eyebrow, and seriously, the silent reaction acting in this scene is great) and beings a speech thanking Ross for saving his nephew, one Hugh Armitage (who makes his entrance then, much to D’s delight).

Falmouth walks over to Ross, who introduces D, who charmingly hopes that Falmouth’s praise will not go to his head and induce Ross to more ridiculousness. “But England may yet have need of him.” D’s like, mmmmmm. Lord Falmouth tells the Poldarks that they must visit him some time.

George pouts that Ross is a braggart and that D is trull, and this whole event is a waste of time. Enys and Sir Francis walk past George, with Francis complaining about Lord Falmouth wanting to run all of Truro. Sir Francis says that there’s a growing discontent among the burgesses, and Enys is like, hold up, I just came from a place where everyone lost their shit over aristocrats so… be careful. The cranky burgesses need to find a decent candidate for parliament to oppose Falmouth’s pick. “A worthy politician” muses Enys. “Do you think such a one exists?” “I’ve made it my mission to find him.” George has overheard all of this, and the wheels are turning in his pointed little head.

D is next to the refreshment table, and sees Morwenna, and looks sad, thinking about Drake. Armitage comes up, and D smiles and asks if he’s not dancing. Armitage says that his eyesight declined while in France, so no dancing for him. He asks if Ross will dance with her, and she says that he’s hiding so he doesn’t have to. “Is he mad?” “I’ve often thought so!”

Ross himself snags a cup of punch, and is found by Sir Francis, who asks about Ross giving land to out of work miners. Ross has no regrets on that matter. Sir Francis himself has been working on fixing the corrupt political system. I mean, everyone needs a hobby…. “So that justice and equity may filter down to those in the most need.” Ross wishes him luck, but doesn’t hold out hope for much success.

Morwenna is the door, getting some air, when D finds her and screws up her courage to approach. She asks Morwenna how she is, and when she is due, and this breaks my hearts: Morwenna doesn’t know. No one ever told her anything about what to expect “what the obligations of marriage would be.” D asks if he’s unkind, and Morwenna lays it out. “He’s a monster.” She goes back inside, and Ross finds D. “Can we go home?” They leave, and Armitage watches them go.

At Trenwith, George is very grumpy. Falmouth keeps snubbing him, and nothing he does is good enough! George has tried invitations and small gifts and Elizabeth, who is completely over this shit by now, is like, really. Maybe you’re trying too damn hard. “How else would he even notice me? Am I so beneath him?” George has a new plan, though. With the Truro seat vacant, and Falmouth having always dictated appointments, all George needs to do is get in with Sir Francis and get HIS endorsement. At this point, Aggie enters. “We’ll really be off to hell in a handcart if George Warleggan goes to Parliament.” George snipes that a handcart for Aggie can be arranged, and Elizabeth takes a hit of laudanum.

At the vicarage, Whitworth rolls off of Morwenna, and muses that he thought Killewarren was disappointing, since there was no gilding, but the size was impressive. Morwenna stares at the ceiling, and he says that she ought to have a companion, to help with the work. He’s going to write to her mother and have her send one of her sisters. “And doubtless, she’ll come to love me as you do.” He rolls over and falls asleep, and Morwenna quietly says that she does not love him. She loves Drake Carne. She falls asleep crying that she loves Drake Carne.

At Killewarren, Caro and Enys are FINALLY getting their wedding night.

At Nampara, D is in bed, and Ross is getting ready for bed, and she tells him that Armitage was most attentive. “On your wife. Didn’t you notice?” He did not. D lets a number of emotions cross her face, and mutters, “Perhaps I imagined it.” Ross is like nah, not every man in Cornwall is besotted with you.

At the smithy, Drake is happily moving metal around. “I’ve goodly work to keep me fed and clothed!” Sam is worried about his soul, and that Drake is still pining for Morwenna (he is). Drake should find a girl with a methodist connection, sweet and pure, and there comes Emma, who is none of those things. She has a small job, and Sam asks about her soul, “Or do ye have no love of divine things?” “No luck, I get my fill of ‘em daily,” she sassses back. Sam invites her to meeting, where they “read gospel and open our hearts to each other.” Emma laughs and tells him to tell his fables to them that are as simple as babies. Drake to Sam: you mean a girl like that?

D comes over, and gently breaks it to Drake that Morwenna is pregnant. He takes a minute, and says he’ll pray that the child will be a comfort to her, but now he really needs to let her go. D nods and agrees.

George instructs his servants to search the house and find “an item” that was packed away when he first moved in. It belongs to “Old Mistress Agatha.” Elizabeth comes in with Poor Baby Val, and she thinks there’s already been an improvement. “No doubt your aunt will claim the credit.” George does actually take the baby, though, so there’s that.

At Nampara, D tells Ross that Enys went to Trenwith and that Valentine has rickets. Ross wonders why that’s a concern of theirs. “No, Ross.” Ross is going to see Pascoe (his banker), who we haven’t seen in awhile.

At the Red Lion, Pascoe has the deed of gift for the miners, and also has financial times gossip: the Warleggans and the Bassets (Sir Francis’ bank) have “an accommodation.” Not a merger, but an understanding where they’ll work together. “I suspect the reasoning is less financial and more political.” At that point Sir Francis pops in, and invites Ross and D to dinner on Saturday. Pascoe grins, and notes that D does like society events. Ross is like sure, she’s not a “hero” and I know where my sudden popularity comes from. Pascoe: shut up and take your wife out. “What harm could it do?”

A girl stands in the parlor of the vicarage: Rowella, Morwenna’s sister. Morwenna comes in and hugs her (trailed by Whitworth’s poor daughters). Rowella asks if Morwenna is well, and Morwenna says “I have no complaint” just as Whitworth enters to smarm that of course she has no complaint. “Your sister is the most blessed of women.” “Yes, Osborn” says Rowella. He tells her to address him as “Mr Whitworth” in private, and “Vicar” in public. “Yes, Vicar” Rowella responds, with a sassy tilt to her eyebrows. Whitworth can’t tell if he’s been sassed or not.

At the smithy, Drake is playing with casting, and it turns out to be a relief of a woman and a baby. Sam says it’s the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Child, and that he’s happy to see Drake turn back towards God. Drake doesn’t mention that the woman bears a striking resemblance to Morwenna.

Morwenna stares into the fire.

Aggie is reading her cards. Constable Goon, who has far too many jobs, brings the old family bible to George. That’s what he was looking for. Seriously, you had the Poldark family Bible packed away? Truly your pettiness knows no bounds. He flips to the front, reads something, and laughs. Elizabeth walks in after he’s put it down, asking if he has good news. He does, and soon there might be better. He’s going to pop over to Sir Francis’ house! Elizabeth asks if he’s been invited, but he has not. “I know him to be at home today, and we are now on such terms as to render formal invitations unnecessary.” Elizabeth is clearly unconvinced by this logic.

Aggie is in the doorway, checking supplies for her party as they come in (though really they’d be coming in through the back door but never mind) as George is leaving, saying that Sir Francis is “susceptible” and it’s important to strike while the iron is hot. Elizabeth is still dubious. “Georgie, I shan’t be disappointed if you miss my party,” sasses Aggie. George says they’ll discuss that subject when he returns.

Turns out it is in fact Saturday, and Ross, D, Caro, and Enys are arriving at Sir Francis’ house for his gathering. Ross grumbles that he can think of a hundred more important things to do, and Caro, bless her, calls him a misanthrope. Enys also would rather not have company, as well, “With the exception of my wife.” D snipes that Ross often doesn’t make that exception. Ross says that if he has his way (“Which you frequently do”) that this will be the last excursion for a while. Okay.

Rowella finds Morwenna staring into the fire, and asks her why on earth she agreed to marry Whitworth. “To save the life of the man I loved.” Rowella asks if Morwenna still loves him, and she does “till my dying breath.” Rowella asks Morwenna to tell her everything.

At Sir Francis’ the Fab Four are being escorted in by Sir Francis and his wife. Francis explains that they’ve had an unexpected addition to the party. This dude showed up uninvited, and Francis can’t stand the dude’s uncle, their whole philosophy on life is “wholly at odds” (at this point Ross gets a panicked look on his face and he and D exchange a Look). “So I trust you’ll forgive me for inflicting him upon you.” Ross steels himself as Sir Francis opens the door, and it’s Armitage! Ross is so relieved, and they’re all generally happy to see him. Armitage is like, you’ll be sorry you ever saved me! Ross says he “regrets the venture daily.” and Caro smirks that Enys probably does too, since he’s now her prisoner. (Enys is okay with this.)

Armitage walks D in, telling her that he took considerable pains to get himself invited. D asks him why he did. “Can you not guess?”

George’s carriage pulls up to Sir Francis’ house.

At dinner, Armitage is watching D, and drawing, while Ross mentions this young French general who crushed the counter revolutionaries. He’s now in charge of the army in Italy? What’s his name? Oh, right, Napoleon. Anyway, Sir Francis does call the French leaders who ordered soldiers to fire on their own countrymen to be criminals, and Armitage pipes up at his uncle would be quite relieved to hear Sir Francis say that, being a Whig and therefore probably sympathetic to the Revolution. Sir Francis even responds that a “True Whig is as patriotic as any Tory in the land.” Armitage inclines his head in agreement. Enys asks who Falmouth will pick as the next Truro MP. Armitage? Nah, Armitage isn’t biddable enough. “Too much of a rebel.” Enys asks if that wouldn’t make him the ideal candidate? No, Armitage knows his limitation. “At sea, an passable navigator, on land an average poet and an indifferent artist.” Caro notes that he’s been sketching, and asks if they might see. Armitage says no, he hasn’t done justice to his subject. D blushes.

A footman comes in and whispers in Sir Francis’ ear, and Sir Francis instructs, “Tell him I am engaged and may be some time.” Sir Francis announces that he’s arranged some small entertainments, and Ross smile/grimaces (Grimiles?), since this means he can’t actually go home yet. The entertainment is bowling in the hall.

George is in a parlor, and tells the footman that he will wait for Sir Francis. General merriment ensues, and Armitage approaches D. She asks him about navigation. “At sea?” “That is where I find myself. Disorientated. Lost.” D thinks it must be strange to return to the comfort of home after the horrors of prison. Like Enys. Armitage has different struggles, so different, “I could hardly even name them.” There’s a pause, and he asks if she won’t ask him to? No, it’s not her business. Armitage changes the subject to flowers, and the garden of Eden. “And ‘ware the snake” says D, as she leaves.

George hears the merriment, and a door opens, but it’s just a footman. No one wants to see him.

Sir Francis has taken the opportunity to talk to Ross, he likes Ross’ plan of giving land to the “deserving poor.” Ross (and I) ask about the undeserving poor? Sir Francis thinks we must begin by helping those who help themselves. Okay. Sir Francis asks if Ross believes in equality. Ross believes in opportunity, industry should be rewarded, and misuse of power should be punished. Sir Francis agrees.

Armitage wanders back over to D (this annoying puppy I swear) and she asks him if he’s going to return to the Navy. Once his eyes are better. He says it was all his fault, he kept sketching and writing letters home in the darkness, to keep himself sane. I’m really bored with this thread. He’s so milquetoasty. He shows her the drawing he was doing at dinner, and it of her, of course. Blah blah blah. Jesus, he’s going to write her poetry. UGH. He wants to see her again. And Ross of course. But mostly her. Yawn.

Sir Francis supposes that the burgesses are tired of being told who to vote for (and now he and Ross are right outside the room George is waiting in, so George can hear them), in fact he knows that a bunch of them are ready to defy Lord Falmouth. Ross: so they’ll vote for your guy, instead of his? And you want it to be me? Sir Francis is like yeah, you’re the man to lead this revolution, and you’ll serve us in parliament and it’ll be awesome! Ross: you’ll expect me to vote the way you want? Sir Francis shrugs, “Since you and I think along similar lines….”

George storms out.

Caro and D are chatting, and Caro tells D that if they both walked into a room, first all the men would look at Caro, but within five minutes, they’d all be clustered around D. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment!” “It is. Not one I think Ross would appreciate.” D sadly doesn’t think he’s notice.

George comes home, and has a kind of hilarious stand off with his footman. Aggie cackles that he’s back already, but she told him they could manage without him. George’s nostrils flare, and asks her how old she is. He knows full well she’ll be 100 on Monday, Ah, but when he was last at Sawle church, he flipped through the parish register, and found no record of her christening in 1695. But then, baptism don’t instantly follow birth, so he had the servants find the Bible. In it there’s a notation for her birth, Agatha Mary, born September 14th, 1697. “So you see, old crone, on Monday, you’ll be but 98.” Aggie snaps that it’s a lie, and Elizabeth comes in to ask how the visit went.

As the party at Sir Francis’ is breaking up, he asks Ross if he’s made a decision. Ross, LIKE AN IDIOT, declines. “I cannot be another man’s puppet. Not even one I admire.” Sir Francis is like BROMENHEIMER you know how the world works! Change from within! Ross: that sounds like effort, and also no good people who get into politics stay that way. “I cannot believe that I would emerge from this process with my soul intact.” Sir Francis. “Your stubbornness will be your undoing, Poldark.” ROSS YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

At the vicarage, Whitworth eats – loudly – and Rowella accidentally flashes some foot. Whitworth, who we know has a thing for feet, leaves the table. Rowella: “See how easy it is to be rid of him?” Morwenna reminds Rowella that he is her husband “Till death do us part.” “Amen, sister.” PICK ME PICK ME I’LL MURDERIZE HIM.

The Family Poldark is out near the sea. D thinks it was a mistake to refuse Sir Francis. Ross snarks that he didn’t know she wanted to be a political wife. She doesn’t, but Ross could use his privilege for good, and Sir Francis isn’t an asshole. Ross thinks that since Sir Francis isn’t completely altruistic (BECAUSE NO ONE IS COMPLETELY ALTRUISTIC) it won’t end well. “He would use me if I would let him.” But he won’t.

Aggie rings her bells. She’s having a hard time breathing, and she hasn’t gotten her supper. But it’s not her maid that comes in, it’s George, who tells her that there’s no supper, and no party. He’s sent letters to all her friends that the party will be in two years. “But it’s all prepared! Food ordered!” Pity, sneers George. She’s been looking forward to the party for so long. George says nothing. She knows she won’t live another two years, but she promises she won’t cross him again. “Let me have my party?” Aggie whimpers. He will not. There will be no party. He turns to leave, and she narrows her eyes. “Wait. You do this to me, may you rot in hell.” I can’t describe how she growls this out. “Little Valentine, the so-called Warleggan heir. Or is he? That was no eight month baby. Early babes be wrinkled… he was smooth and strong as a full term child. So maybe you didn’t wait for the wedding. Or maybe somebody got there before ye?” George panics and runs out of the room, and she collapses back in her chair.

George goes into the room where Elizabeth is reading, He’s shook, and ELizabeth asks if he’s unwell. “That… old woman… will have no party.” Elizabeth asks if Aggie has postponed it, and before George can respond, a footman annouces that Sir Francis is there. “The devil can he want” George asks vaguely. Elizabeth is quite confused.

George finds Sir Francis in front of the fire in the hall, and Sir Francis says that he knows that George came to see him. “I did sir, but you were otherwise engaged, and now I fear the moment has passed.” Has it? Sir Francis asks what George wanted to discuss. George sees his moment. “Change. That is what you seek. But it’s not easy to achieve.” Go on. “The right man would not need to be popular, he would only need to be capable. Of achieving the task in hand by whatever means necessary.” THESE PARALLELS ARE SO FUCKING THICK.

Aggie is still in her chair, muttering, “My party, my party.” Elizabeth finds her like this, calling her “dearest aunt” which is a bunch of bullshit, and asking what’s happened. “He won’t let me have my party. Took my home, took my home!” Aggie sees Elizabeth, “I should not have said what I said, You’ll not forgive me. I should not have told him.” Elizabeth asks what Aggie told him, but Aggie dies, right there. Poor Baby Val starts crying, and Elizabeth kisses Aggie’s hand.

Some time later, Elizabeth comes down with Poor Baby Val, and Sir Francis tells her he hopes they can count on her support for “their newest venture” and yes, George will be a candidate for the next bye election. Elizabeth asks for forgiveness, but “My great-aunt is dead.” Sir Francis beats it.

George merely stares at Elizabeth, and doesn’t comfort her at all.

The next day is Sunday, and Drake comes to the meeting house, much to Sam’s relief. Drake admits that his thoughts have been “impure” and Sam eyes Emma for a second, before admitting that his haven’t been that pure, either.

D is singing to the kids, and Ross is enjoying it. D says that Sir Francis is right, Ross is stubborn. “Pragmatic.” “Pig-headed.” “Would you prefer naive? Or sentimental?” “Sometimes Ross, I would.” Prudie delivers a note announcing Aggie’s death- and Ross is shattered, and Prudie doesn’t help, thinking of Aggie on her deathbed with no Poldark kin with her. Ross leaves, and D hands Clowance to Prudie. Aggie was the last of the Trenwith Poldark’s, save Geoffy-Chuck, and “Doubtless George will find a way to part him from his inheritance.” D reads the note, and gasps, “Judas.”

D finds Ross on the beach, and tells him that there was more to the note than news of Aggie’s death. Funeral arrangements? No, not that. D reads: “I hope you and Demelza will rejoice in the news that I have been selected by Sir Francis Basset to be the candidate oppose Lord Falmouth’s in the truro election.” Ross sighs, and D snaps that he could have prevented it. “No I couldn’t.” YES YOU COULD. “WILL YOU NEVER LEARN” says D. “how long do you think you do as you please, plow your own furrow…not once have you asked my advice! Or harken to my opinion.” “What do you want, Demelza? A man to will roll over, beg for you?” I guess so. “Perhaps you should look else where for a pet.” “Perhaps I should.” Ross stomps away, and D mutters, “perhaps I won’t have to look too far.”

Because a stupid puppy is writing a poem to her.

In the churchyard, Tholly is digging a grave, and the Trenwith goons drop a coffin next to it as Ross comes up to find that his aunt is being buried without ceremony or recognition. Tholly was ordered to give a quick and secret burial. Ross takes the shovel and says that George will pay for this. “She was a great lady, my most beloved aunt. This is the least I can do for her.”

RIP Aggie. (I just found out that Caroline Blakiston also portrayed Mon Mothma in Return of the Jedi which is amazing.)

What did you think of this episode? Are you liking this season?