OPENING TITLES
INT. LADY MARY'S BEDROOM
ANNA: You made me jump.
GWEN: Daisy, what is the matter with you? You’re all thumbs.
DAISY: Sorry. I hate this room.
GWEN: Well, why? What’s the matter with it?
ANNA: Daisy?
INT. DINING ROOM
MARY: Who’s that from, Papa? You seem very absorbed.
ROBERT: Your Aunt Rosamund.
EDITH: Anything interesting?
ROBERT: Nothing to trouble you with.
SYBIL: Poor Aunt Rosamund, all alone in that big house. I feel so sorry for her.
MARY: I don’t. All alone with plenty of money and a house in Eton Square? I can’t imagine anything better.
ROBERT: Really, Mary, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. There will come a day when someone thinks you mean what you say.
MARY: It can’t come soon enough for me.
ROBERT: Carson, I’ll be in the library. Will you let me know when Her Ladyship is down?
CARSON: Certainly, my lord.
ROBERT: Sybil, darling, this one’s for you.
INT. CORRIDOR/LADY SYBIL'S BEDROOM
SYBIL: I saw another opening for a secretary and I applied.
GWEN: But you never said.
SYBIL: I didn’t want you to be disappointed.
GWEN: I thought you’d given up.
SYBIL: I’ll never give up, and nor will you. Things are changing for women, Gwen. Not just the vote, but our lives.
GWEN: But it’s tomorrow at ten o’clock. Last time, we waited for weeks and weeks and—and this one’s tomorrow.
SYBIL: Then we must be ready by tomorrow, mustn’t we?
INT. CRAWLEY HOUSE
ISOBEL: I thought I’d write to Edith to settle our promised church visit.
MATTHEW: If you want.
ISOBEL: Well, we can’t just throw her over when she made such an effort to arrange the last one.
MATTHEW: It’s all in your head.
ISOBEL: I don’t think so.
MATTHEW: Then...she’s barking up the wrong tree.
ISOBEL: Poor Edith, I hope there’s a right tree for her somewhere.
MOLESLEY: Ma’am, I was wondering if I might take some time this afternoon to help in the village hall.
MATTHEW: Why? What’s happening?
MOLESLEY: It’s the flower show, sir, next Saturday. I’ll give my father a hand with his stall if I may.
ISOBEL: Of course you must go.
MATTHEW: And so, I’m afraid, must I.
INT. STOREROOM
BATES: Is Mr Carson about?
THOMAS: I don’t think so. I was just looking for him myself.
EXT. DOWNTON ABBEY, GROUNDS
ROBERT: Busy?
CORA: I’m just trying to sort out the wretched flower show.
ROBERT: I’ve had a letter from Rosamund.
CORA: Don’t tell me, she wants a saddle of lamb and all the fruit and vegetables we can muster.
ROBERT: She enjoys a taste of her old home.
CORA: She enjoys not paying for food.
ROBERT: But there’s something else. Apparently, the word is going ‘round London that Evelyn Napier has given up any thought of Mary, that he’s going to marry one of the Sempill girls. She writes as if somehow it reflects badly on Mary.
CORA: Your dear sister’s always such a harbinger of joy.
ROBERT: No, as if...as if Mary had somehow been found wanting in her character.
CORA: Well, I don’t believe Mr Napier would have said that.
ROBERT: Neither do I, really, but…
CORA: She ought to be married. Talk to her.
ROBERT: She never listens to me. If she did, she’d marry Matthew.
CORA: What about Anthony Strallan?
ROBERT: Anthony Strallan is at least my age and as dull as paint. I doubt she’d want to sit next to him at dinner, let alone marry him.
CORA: She has to marry someone, Robert. And if this is what’s being said in London, she has to marry soon.
INT. SERVANTS' HALL
O’BRIEN: You shouldn’t do that in here.
WILLIAM: I don’t like being in the pantry all alone. Mr Carson won’t mind. He’s gone into the village.
THOMAS: He’ll mind if I tell him.
DAISY: That’s ridiculous.
O’BRIEN: Do you think so? She wants it put onto a new shirt, but it’s a bit old fashioned to my taste.
DAISY: Oh, no, it’s lovely.
ANNA: Have you recovered, Daisy?
BATES: What from?
ANNA: She had a bit of a turn when we were in Lady Mary’s room, didn’t you?
DAISY: I’m fine, thank you.
THOMAS: What sort of a turn? Did you see a ghost?
WILLIAM: Will you leave her alone if she doesn’t want to talk about it?
THOMAS: I’ve often wondered if this place is haunted. It ought to be.
O’BRIEN: Of the spirits of maids and footmen who died in slavery?
BATES: But not, in Thomas’s case, from overwork.
THOMAS: Come on, Daisy, what was it?
DAISY: I don’t know. I was thinking, first we had the Titanic--
O’BRIEN: Don’t keep harping back to that.
DAISY: I know it was a while ago, but we knew him. I think of how we laid the fires for Mr Patrick, but he drowned in them icy waters.
O’BRIEN: For God’s sake.
DAISY: And then there’s the Turkish gentleman. It just seems there’s been too much death in the house.
WILLIAM: What’s that got to do with Lady Mary’s bedroom?
DAISY: Nothing. Nothing at all.
INT. VILLAGE HALL
MR MOLESLEY: Afternoon, ma’am.
ISOBEL: When do you put that magnificent display of prizes on show?
MR MOLESLEY: Not till the day itself.
ISOBEL: I remember a superb cup from last year.
MR MOLESLEY: The Grantham Cup. It was donated by the late Lord Grantham for the best bloom in the village.
ISOBEL: And who won it?
VIOLET: I did.
ISOBEL: Well done. And the year before?
MR MOLESLEY: Her Ladyship won that one, too.
ISOBEL: Heaven’s, how thrilling. And before that?
MOLESLEY: You’ve met my father.
ISOBEL: Good afternoon, Mr Molesley. What are you showing this year?
MR MOLESLEY: Oh, this and that.
MOLESLEY: Only the finest roses in the village.
ISOBEL: Really? What an achievement.
VIOLET: It’s a wonderful area for roses. We’re very lucky. We’ll see some beautiful examples right across the show, won’t we, Mr Molesley?
MR MOLESLEY: If you say so, Your Ladyship.
INT. CORRIDOR/SERVANTS' STAIRCASE
O’BRIEN: What’s up with you?
THOMAS: Nothing.
O’BRIEN: His Lordship’s blaming Mr Napier for spreading gossip about Lady Mary, but it was you, wasn’t it?
THOMAS: Why do you say that?
O’BRIEN: Because Napier wasn’t in on it. Only four people knew he was in her room that night. You, me, Lady Mary, and possibly Daisy, and I haven’t said nothing to nobody.
THOMAS: Well, I didn’t tell about Pamuk, I just wrote that Lady Mary was no better than she ought to be.
O’BRIEN: Who did you write it to?
THOMAS: Only a friend of mine, valet to Lord Savident.
O’BRIEN: You know what they say about Old Savident. “Not so much an open mind as an open mouth.” No wonder it’s all ‘round London.
THOMAS: You won’t tell, will you? I’m in enough trouble as it is.
O’BRIEN: Why, what’s happened?
THOMAS: Mr Bates saw me nicking a bottle of wine.
O’BRIEN: Has he told Mr Carson?
THOMAS: Not yet, but he will when he’s feeling spiteful. I wish we could be shot of him.
O’BRIEN: Then think of something quick. Turn the tables on him before he has a chance to nail you.
INT. GREAT HALL
ROBERT: I thought you went to bed hours ago.
SYBIL: I was writing a note for Lynch. I need the governess cart tomorrow.
ROBERT: Oh?
SYBIL: I’m going to Moulton.
ROBERT: Oh, don’t risk the traffic in Moulton, not now every Tom, Dick, and Harry seems to have a motor.
SYBIL: Hardly.
ROBERT: Last time I was there, there were five cars parked in the marketplace and another three drove past while I was waiting. Get Branson to take you in the car. Neither of us are using it.
SYBIL: I thought I’d pop in on old Mrs Steward. Will you tell Mama if I forget?
INT. SERVANTS' HALL
O’BRIEN: You’re late this morning.
DAISY: The library grate needed a real going over. Are any of them down yet?
THOMAS: Lady Sybil’s in the dining room.
DAISY: I’ll start with her room, then.
O’BRIEN: Daisy, you know when you were talking about the feeling of death in the house...
DAISY: I was just being silly.
O’BRIEN: I found myself wondering about the connection between the poor Turkish gentleman, Mr Pamuk, and Lady Mary’s room. Only, you were saying how you felt so uncomfortable in there.
DAISY: Well, I’ve...I’ve got to get on. I’m late enough as it is.
EXT. VILLAGE ROAD
MATTHEW: Hello. Is everything all right?
MARY: Oh, hello. I’m about to send a telegram
MATTHEW: Oh.
MARY: Papa’s sister is always nagging him to send supplies to London, and then we cable her so her butler can be at King’s Cross to meet them. It’s idiotic, really.
MATTHEW: Is this Lady Rosamund Painswick?
MARY: You have done your homework.
MATTHEW: She wrote to welcome me into the family, which I thought pretty generous, given the circumstances.
MARY: It’s easy to be generous when you have nothing to lose. So, you doing any more church visiting with Edith?
MATTHEW: My mother’s trying to set something up.
MARY: Well, watch out. I think she has big plans for you.
MATTHEW: Then she’s in for an equally big disappointment.
INT. LADY SYBIL'S BEDROOM
DAISY: Is it all right to do the fire?
ANNA: Why are you so late?
DAISY: I went back to my room after I’d woken everyone and I just shut my eyes for a moment. I’ve been trying to catch up ever since.
ANNA: Have you had any breakfast?
DAISY: Not a crumb.
ANNA: Here.
GWEN: Wait…you can’t take a biscuit.
ANNA: She never eats them. None of them do. Just thrown away and changed every evening.
DAISY: Thanks. She won’t mind anyway. She’s nice, Lady Sybil.
CARSON: Gwen? May I ask why you’re sitting on Lady Sybil’s bed?
GWEN: Well, you see, I had a turn - like a burst of sickness - just sudden like. I had to sit down.
ANNA: It’s true.
CARSON: You better go and lie down. I’ll tell Mrs Hughes.
GWEN: I don’t need to interrupt her morning. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I could just put my feet up.
CARSON: And how many bedrooms have you still got to do?
ANNA: Just one. Lady Edith.
CARSON: And you can manage on your own?
ANNA: Well, she’s no use to man or beast in that state. Go on. Shoo.
Gwen leaves.
CARSON: Daisy, may I ask why you’re holding Lady Sybil’s biscuit jar?
DAISY: Er...I was just polishing it before I put it back.
CARSON: See that you do.
INT. KITCHENS
MRS PATMORE: I’m sorry, but I can’t do more than my best.
HUGHES: Is there some difficulty Your Ladyship?
CORA: Dear Mrs Hughes, as you know, we’re giving dinner on Friday for Sir Anthony Strallan.
HUGHES: Yes, milady.
CORA: Well, it seems he’s particularly fond of a certain new pudding. It’s called Apple Charlotte. Do you know it?
HUGHES: I…I’m not sure.
CORA: His sister, Mrs Chetwood, sent me the receipt. I’m trying to persuade Mrs Patmore to make it.
MRS PATMORE: And I’m trying to persuade Her Ladyship that I have already planned the dinner with her, and I can’t change it now.
HUGHES: Why not?
CORA: Because everything’s been ordered and prepared.
HUGHES: Well, there’s nothing here that looks very complicated. Apples, lemons, butter...
MRS PATMORE: I cannot work from a new receipt at a moment’s notice!
DAISY: But I can read it to you, if that’s the problem.
MRS PATMORE: Problem? Who mentioned a problem? How dare you say such a thing in front of Her Ladyship?
CORA: Very well. We’ll try it another time when you’ve had longer to prepare. We’ll stay with the raspberry meringue.
HUGHES: And very nice it’ll be, too.
CORA: I’m sure.
MRS PATMORE: Have you taken leave of your senses?
HUGHES: I’m so sorry about that, milady.
CORA: Never mind. I was asking a lot. Do look after that girl.
HUGHES: Daisy? She’s used to it. She’ll be all right.
CORA: I wonder. Mrs Patmore looks ready to eat her alive.
DAISY: I was only try to help.
MRS PATMORE: Oh! Judas was only trying to help, I suppose, when he brought the Roman soldiers to the garden!
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD
GWEN: Well, I had to let the skirt down a little, but I can put it back.
SYBIL: No, it’s yours. What will happen if one of the maids finds your room is empty?
GWEN: Oh, it would only be Anna, and she wouldn’t give me away. She’s like a sister. She’d never betray me.
SYBIL: Oh, well, then she’s not like my sisters. Walk on.
LADY EDITH'S BEDROOM
BATES: Shall I give you a hand?
ANNA: Oh, would you? It takes half the time with two.
BATES: I always feel a bit sorry for Lady Edith.
ANNA: Me, too. Although I don’t know why, when you think what she’s got and what we haven’t.
BATES: Mrs Hughes said she was after the other heir, Mr Patrick Crawley, the one who drowned.
ANNA: That was different. She was in love with him.
BATES: What happened?
ANNA: She never got her luck in. He was always set up to marry Lady Mary.
BATES: Then he’s a braver man than I am, Gunga Din. Sad to think about.
ANNA: It’s always sad when you love someone who doesn’t love you back, no matter who you are.
BATES: No, I mean, it’s sad that he died.
ANNA: Oh. Yes. Very sad. He was nice. Well, thank you for that. Much appreciated.
BATES: My pleasure. Perhaps Mr Patrick did love her back, he just couldn’t say it.
ANNA: Why ever not?
BATES: Sometimes we’re not at liberty to speak. Sometimes it wouldn’t be right.
INT. OFFICE BUILDING, HALLWAY
Gwen enters in the room.
SECRETARY: Take a seat.
INT. THE DOWER HOUSE
VIOLET: The flower show? Oh, I thought I was in for another telling off about the hospital.
ISOBEL: No, this time it’s the flower show. I’ve been to see old Mr Molesley’s garden and his roses are the most beautiful I’ve ever laid eyes on.
VIOLET: Go on.
ISOBEL: You may not know it, but I believe the committee feel obliged to give you the cup for the best bloom as a kind of local tradition.
VIOLET: No, no, I d—I do not know that. I thought I usually won the prize for best bloom in the village because my garden had grown the best bloom in the village.
ISOBEL: Yes. But you don’t usually win, do you? You always win.
VIOLET: Yes. I have been very fortunate in that regard.
ISOBEL: But surely, when Mr Molesley’s garden is so remarkable, and he’s so very proud of his roses.
VIOLET: You talk of Mr Molesley’s pride? What about my gardener’s pride? Is he to be sacrificed on the altar of Molesley’s ambition?
ISOBEL: All I’m asking is that you release them from any obligation to let you win. Why not just tell them to choose whichever flower is best?
VIOLET: But that is precisely what they already know...and do.
INT. OFFICE BUILDING, HALLWAY
Gwen exits the office and nervously rushes down the hallway.
INT. LORD GRANTHAM'S DRESSING ROOM
BATES: I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t think you’d be in here.
ROBERT: Are my eyes deceiving me, or is one of these missing?
BATES: I don’t know them well enough.
ROBERT: No, why would you? There’s a very pretty little blue one with a miniature framed in French paste. It was made for a German prince, I forget who. Unless it’s been moved for some reason...but why would it be?
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD
Sybil and Gwen come back to Downton.
SYBIL: Can you help? I should be so grateful. Our horse has cast his shoe. Is there a smithy nearby?
STRANGER: Ah, you can try old Crump in the next village.
SYBIL: Thank you.
GWEN: Thank you.
SYBIL: See? Help is at hand. And at least it happened on the way home.
GWEN: They’ll all be worried about you, and if they check on me, I’m finished.
INT. SERVANTS' CORRIDOR
ANNA: Is Her Ladyship wearing that now?
O’BRIEN: Oh, no, this is for Friday night. I just thought I’d give it a press while I had the time.
ANNA: You don’t know what’s happened to Lady Sybil, do you? I’ve got the changes ready for the other two, but there’s no sign of her.
O’BRIEN: Don’t you start. I’ve had Her Majesty on at me all afternoon.
WILLIAM: Mr Carson says he’ll fetch the police if she’s not back soon.
EXT. SMITHY
STRANGER 2: Sorry, Miss, but Mr Crump’s staying over at the Skelton estates tonight. He’s working there all week.
LADY SYBIL: Is there anyone else?
STRANGER 2: Not that I know of.
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD
LADY SYBIL: Come on, Dragon! Come on! Dragon, if you don’t move now, I’ll have you boiled for glue!
INT. LADY GRANTHAM'S BEDROOM
CORA: What if she’s over turned? What if she’s lying in a ditch somewhere?
O’BRIEN: I’m sure she’ll be back in the shake of a lamb’s tail.
CORA: The truth is, they’re all getting too old for a mother’s control.
O’BRIEN: They’re growing up.
CORA: They’ve grown up. They need their own establishments.
O’BRIEN: I’m sure they’ll all get plenty of offers.
CORA: No one ever warns you about bringing up daughters. You think it’s going to be like Little Women. Instead, they’re at each other’s throats from dawn till dusk.
INT. HOUSEMAIDS' BEDROOM
ANNA: You look done in. I’ll bring you some food up later when we’ve finished dinner. Where were you?
GWEN: You came up, then?
ANNA: ‘Course I did. Had to change for the afternoon.
GWEN: Did you cover for me?
ANNA: What do you think? I don’t suppose this had anything to do with Lady Sybil?
GWEN: Oh, Anna, it was a nightmare. I don’t know how I got in without being seen. I’m sure I left a trail of mud up the stairs.
ANNA: So...did you get the job?
GWEN: Well, we’ll have to wait and see.
INT. LIBRARY
O’BRIEN: Sorry to bother you, milady, but your mother wanted you to know Lady Sybil’s back. She’s changing now, so dinner won’t be late after all.
EDITH: What happened to her?
O’BRIEN: The horse went lame.
EDITH: Is there anything else?
O’BRIEN: There is something that’s been troubling me. Do you remember the Turkish gentleman, Mr Pamuk, the one who died all of a sudden like?
EDITH: Of course I remember.
O’BRIEN: Well, it’s Daisy, my lady...the kitchen maid. Only, she’s been talking recently as if she had ideas about Mr Pamuk’s death.
EDITH: What sort of ideas?
O’BRIEN: Well, I’ve no proof, and maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve a sense she knows something but won’t say what. Something involving Lady Mary.
EDITH: Well, how absurd. Well, what could she know?
O’BRIEN: Whatever it is, she won’t say. Not to us, anyway.
EDITH: Have you spoken to Lady Mary about this?
O’BRIEN: I didn’t like to, milady. It seemed impertinent somehow, but I thought someone in the family ought to know about it.
EDITH: Quite right. Bring the girl to my room...tomorrow after breakfast.
MARY: What did she want?
EDITH: Nothing. Just a message from Mama to say that Sybil had turned up alive.
MARY: Poor darling. She had to walk for miles. I don’t think I’d have got down however lame the horse.
EDITH: No. I don’t believe you would.
INT. LADY EDITH'S BEDROOM
DAISY: I couldn’t say, milady. I don’t know what Miss O’Brien means. I didn’t see nothing...not much.
EDITH: O’Brien, I wonder if you might leave us.
(O’Brien leaves.)
EDITH: Now, it’s Daisy, isn’t it?
DAISY: Yes, milady.
EDITH: I’m sure you see O’Brien only acted as she did because she is concerned.
DAISY: I suppose so, milady.
EDITH: She seems to think that you are in possession of some knowledge that is uncomfortable for you. Because, if that is the case, then I don’t think it fair on you. Why should you be burdened with Mary’s secret? Oh, my dear, my heart goes out to you, it really does. Oh, there, there. You’ve been carrying too heavy a burden for too long. Just tell me and I promise you’ll feel better.
INT. VILLAGE HALL
VIOLET: You seem well prepared.
CORA: We’ll add a few more flowers before we open in the morning, but I think we’re nearly there.
ISOBEL: Do look at Mr Molesley’s display. He’s worked so hard.
MATTHEW: Rather marvellous, aren’t they?
MARY: Lovely. Well done, Mr Molesley.
MR MOLESLEY: Thank you, milady.
VIOLET: I think everyone is to be congratulated. Splendid.
ISOBEL: But do look at these roses. Have you ever seen the like?
VIOLET: My dear Mrs Crawley believes I’m profiting from an unfair advantage.
CORA: Oh?
VIOLET: Mm. She feels, in the past, I’ve been given the cup merely as a matter of routine rather than merit.
MATTHEW: That’s rather ungallant, Mother. I’m sure when we see Cousin Violet’s roses, it’ll be hard to think they could be bettered.
ISOBEL: Hard, but not impossible.
VIOLET: You are quite wonderful the way you see room for improvement wherever you look. I never knew such reforming as you.
ISOBEL: I take that as a compliment.
VIOLET: I must’ve said it wrong.
MARY: Poor Granny, she’s not used to being challenged.
MATTHEW: Nor is Mother. I think we should let them settle it between them.
MARY: So, are you interested in flowers?
MATTHEW: I’m interested in the village. In fact, I’m on my way to inspect the cottages.
MARY: You know what all work and no play did for Jack.
MATTHEW: You think I’m a dull boy anyway, don’t you? I play, too. I’m coming up for dinner tonight. I suspect I’m there to balance the numbers. Is it in aid of anything?
MARY: Not that I know of. Just a couple of dreary neighbours, that’s all.
MATTHEW: Maybe I’ll shine by comparison.
VIOLET: Mary, we’re going.
MARY: Maybe you will.
INT. SERVANTS' HALL
CARSON: Might I have a word? I want to say something before I ring the gong. I’m afraid it’s not very pleasant. His Lordship is missing a very valuable snuff box. It appears to have been taken from the case in his room. If one of you knows anything about this, will he or she please come to me? Your words will be heard in the strictest confidence. Thank you.
O’BRIEN: I am sorry, Mr Bates. What an unpleasant thing to have happened.
ANNA: Why are you picking on him?
THOMAS: Because he’s the only one of us who goes in there. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll turn up.
BATES: Thank you for your concern.
(The dinner gong rings.)
BATES: I hate this kind of thing. I hope to God they find it. Better get a move on.
INT. LADY MARY'S BEDROOM
Someone knocks on the door.
MARY: I’m coming.
(Cora enters.)
MARY: Does this broach work? I can’t decide.
CORA: It’s charming.
MARY: Oh, dear, is it another scolding?
CORA: Of course not. You’re too grown up to scold these days.
MARY: Heavens, then it’s really serious.
CORA: I’d like you to look after Sir Anthony Strallan tonight. He’s a nice, decent man. His position may not be quite like Papa’s, but it would still make you a force for good in the county.
MARY: Mama, not again. How many times am I to be ordered to marry the man sitting next to me at dinner?
CORA: As many times as it takes.
MARY: I turned down Matthew Crawley, is it likely I’d marry Strallan when I wouldn’t marry him?
CORA: I’m glad you’ve come to think more highly of Cousin Matthew.
MARY: That’s not the point.
CORA: No. The point is, when you refused Matthew, you were the daughter of an earl with an unsullied reputation. Now you are damaged goods.
MARY: Mama.
CORA: Somehow, I don’t know how, there’s a rumour in London that you are not virtuous.
MARY: What? Does Papa know about this?
CORA: He knows it and he dismisses it because, unlike you and me, he does not know that it is true. Let’s hope it’s just unkind gossip. Because if anyone heard about...
MARY: Kemal? My lover. Kemal Pamuk.
CORA: Exactly. If it gets around and you’re not already married, every door in London will be slammed in your face.
MARY: Mama, the world is changing.
CORA: Not that much. And not fast enough for you.
MARY: I know you mean to help. I know you love me. But I also know what I’m capable of, and forty years of boredom and duty just isn’t possible for me. I’m sorry.
CORA: I do love you. And I want to help.
MARY: I’m a lost cause, Mama. Leave me to manage my own affairs. Why not concentrate on Edith? She needs all the help she can get.
CORA: You mustn’t be unkind to Edith. She has fewer advantages than you.
MARY: Fewer? She has none at all.
INT. KITCHENS
MRS PATMORE: Open the oven.
ANNA: What’s happened?
MRS PATMORE: It's that bloomin' Daisy! I said she’d be the death of me, now my words come true!
DAISY: I didn’t do nothing!
ANNA: Come and sit down.
A cat starts to eat the chicken and Gwen rushes forward.
GWEN: Get away! Get back to the stables!
(Gwen shoos the cat away.)
GWEN: Well, what will you serve now?
MRS PATMORE: Them, of course, I haven’t got anything else.
ANNA: Daisy, give us a hand. Get that cloth. What’s the matter with that?
DAISY: Are you sure? Shouldn’t we tell?
MRS PATMORE: Certainly not!
THOMAS: Is the remove ready to go up?
ANNA: Here we are. Daisy, give him a hand with the vegetables. They’re up in the serve room in the warmer.
GWEN: I’m glad I don’t have to eat them.
MRS PATMORE: What they eye can’t see, the heart won’t grieve over.
INT. DINING ROOM
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: Mm, there’s no doubt about it. The next few years in farming are going to be about mechanisation. That’s the test, and we’re going to have to meet it. Don’t you agree, Lady Mary?
MARY: Yes, of course, Sir Anthony. I’m sure I do. Are we ever going to be allowed to turn?
EDITH: Sir Anthony, it must be so hard to meet the challenge of the future and yet be fair to your employees.
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: That is the point precisely. We can’t fight progress, but we must find ways to soften the blow.
EDITH: I should love to see one of the new harvesters, if you would ever let me. We don’t have one here.
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: I should be delighted.
INT. KITCHENS
WILLIAM: I hope they find that snuff box. What happens if they don’t?
THOMAS: They’ll organise a search, won’t they? I wouldn’t be Mr Bates. Not for all the tea in china.
ANNA: Wouldn’t you, Thomas? I daresay he feels just the same about you. What’s the matter with you?
O’BRIEN: Nothing.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, just a minute. I don’t like to put it on earlier. It sinks in and spoils the effect.
INT. DINING ROOM
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: Lady Grantham.
MARY: Mama has released me, thank God.
MATTHEW: Sir Anthony seems nice enough.
MARY: If you want to talk farming and foxes by the hour.
MATTHEW: I’m rather looking forward to the flower show tomorrow.
MARY: Mm. Where Mr Molesley’s roses will turn everybody’s heads. But if you tell Granny I said so, I’ll denounce you as a liar.
MATTHEW: I wouldn’t dare. I’ll leave that to my fearless mother.
MARY: How were the cottages?
MATTHEW: They’re coming on wonderfully. I’d love to show you.
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: Obviously it’s an act of faith at this stage.
CORA: Hm, yes.
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: Oh, God!
ROBERT: What on earth?
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: I do apologise, Lady Grantham, but I had a mouthful of salt.
CORA: What?
(Cora tastes the dessert.)
CORA: Everyone, put down your forks. Carson, remove this. Bring fruit. Bring cheese. Bring anything to take this taste away. Sir Anthony, I am so sorry.
(Matthew and Mary giggle behind their napkins.)
ROBERT: Fains I be Mrs Patmore’s kitchen maid when the news gets out.
SYBIL: Poor girl. We ought to send in a rescue party.
EDITH: You must think us very disorganised.
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: Not at all. These things happen.
(Mary and Matthew continue chuckling.)
INT. KITCHENS
Mrs Patmore sobs.
ANNA: Hey, come on. It’s not that bad. Nobody’s died.
MRS PATMORE: I don’t understand it. It must’ve been that Daisy. She’s muddled everything up before.
DAISY: But I never…
CARSON: Don’t worry, Daisy, you’re not in the line of fire here.
MRS PATMORE: I know that pudding. I chose it ‘cause I knew it.
HUGHES: Which is why you wouldn’t let Her Ladyship have the pudding she wanted because you didn’t know it.
MRS PATMORE: Exactly. I don’t see how it happened.
BATES: Come on, everyone. Let’s give Mrs Patmore some room to breathe. You, too.
ANNA: I don’t think I should leave her.
BATES: Yes, you should. Mr Carson knows what he’s doing.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, don’t do that. Get William or the hall boy to do it, it’s beneath your dignity.
CARSON: It won’t kill me. Now, all in your own good time. I think you’ve got something to tell me, haven’t you?
INT. SERVANTS' CORRIDOR
ANNA: I think I know where that snuff box is.
BATES: Where?
ANNA: Hidden in your room.
BATES: You don’t think…
ANNA: ‘Course I don’t, silly beggar.
BATES: Then…
ANNA: I bet Thomas’d like it if they took you for a thief.
BATES: Yes, I expect he would.
ANNA: Go upstairs now and find it. And when you have, you can choose whether to put it in Thomas’s room or give it to me, and I’ll slip it into Miss O’Brien’s.
BATES: You naughty girl.
ANNA: “Fight fire with fire,” that’s what my mum says.
INT. DRAWING ROOM
SYBIL: Poor Mrs Patmore. Do you think you should go down and see her?
CORA: Tomorrow. She needs time to recover her nerves. I knew there was something going on.
EDITH: It seems hard that poor Sir Anthony had to pay the price.
MARY: Good God!
EDITH: As for you giggling like a ridiculous schoolgirl with Cousin Matthew...it was pathetic.
MARY: Oh, poor Edith. I’m sorry Cousin Matthew’s proved a disappointment to you.
EDITH: Who says he has.
MARY: Matthew? He told me. Oh, sorry, wasn’t I supposed to know?
CORA: You were very helpful, Edith, looking after Sir Anthony. You saved the day.
EDITH: I enjoyed it. We seem to have a lot to talk about.
MARY: Spare me your boasting, please.
EDITH: Now who’s jealous?
MARY: Jealous? Do you think I couldn’t have that old booby if I wanted him?
EDITH: Even you can’t take every prize.
MARY: Is that a challenge?
EDITH: If you like.
INT. KITCHENS
MRS PATMORE: I could almost manage. For a long time knowing the kitchen and where everything was kept, even with that fool girl.
CARSON: I think you might owe Daisy an apology.
MRS PATMORE: Maybe. I had a lot to put up with, I can tell you.
CARSON: And you’ve not been to a doctor?
MRS PATMORE: I don’t need a doctor to tell me I--I’m going blind. A blind cook, Mr Carson. What a joke. Whoever heard of such a thing? A blind cook.
INT. GREAT HALL
The men exit the dining room.
ROBERT: I hope our salty pudding didn’t spoil the evening for you.
MATTHEW: On the contrary.
ROBERT: I’m glad you and Mary are getting along. There’s no reason you can’t be friends.
MATTHEW: No reason at all.
ROBERT: I don’t suppose there’s any chance that you could sort of...start again?
MATTHEW: Life is full of surprises.
INT. DRAWING ROOM
MARY: Ah, I’ve been waiting for you. I found a book over here and I think it’s just the thing to catch your interest.
MATTHEW: Oh, really?
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: I’m intrigued. What is it to be?
MARY: Well, I was looking in the library and...
EDITH: I was very taken by what you were saying over dinner about--
SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: You’re right, Lady Mary. How clever you are. This is exactly what we have to be aware of.
SYBIL: Everyone in London is wearing them.
MARY: There’s a section just here that I was rather unsure about. I wonder if you could tell me...
EDITH: It seems we’ve both been thrown over for a bigger prize.
MATTHEW: Heavens, is that the time?
EDITH: You’re not going?
MATTHEW: The truth is, my head’s splitting. I don’t want to spoil the party, so I’ll slip away. Would you make my excuses to your parents?
Matthew leaves.
MARY: Excuse me, Sir Anthony.
(Mary goes after Matthew.)
MARY: Has Mr Crawley left?
WILLIAM: Yes, milady.
MARY: But what about the car? Branson can’t have brought it ‘round so quickly.
WILLIAM: Well, he said he’d rather walk, milady.
MARY: Thank you.
ROBERT: Mary can be such a child.
CORA: What do you mean, darling?
ROBERT: She thinks, if you put a toy down, it will still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.
CORA: What are you talking about?
ROBERT: Never mind.
INT. SERVANTS' HALL
ANNA: Mr Carson? We were wondering about that snuff box. Has it turned up yet?
CARSON: I’m afraid not.
BATES: Well, I think we should have a search.
THOMAS: What?
BATES: Doesn’t do to leave these things too long.
ANNA: Mr Carson can search the men’s rooms, Mrs Hughes the women’s. And it should be right away, now we’ve talked of it so no one has a chance to hide the box. Don’t you agree, Mr Carson?
CARSON: Well, perhaps it’s for the best. Although, I’m sure I won’t find anything. I’ll fetch Mrs Hughes.
THOMAS: I think I’ll just, erm...
O’BRIEN: I better check it’s time.
O’Brien and Thomas rush out.
THOMAS: The bastard’s hidden it in my room or yours.
O’BRIEN: Why did I ever listen to you in the first place?
HUGHES: Miss O’Brien? My, my, you have been busy.
INT. CRAWLEY HOUSE
ISOBEL: I was expecting you later than this. I’ll tell Molesley to lock up.
MATTHEW: Thanks. Goodnight, Mother.
ISOBEL: How was your evening? Did you enjoy yourself?
MATTHEW: Quite. The thing is, just for a moment, I thought... Never mind what I thought. I was wrong. Goodnight.
INT. VILLAGE HALL
ROBERT: My Word, Molesley, splendid roses, as usual. Well done.
MR MOLESLEY: Thank you, Your Lordship.
VIOLET: All stalls are set out very well this year.
CORA: This is enchanting. Do we grow this?
MR MOLESLEY: I doubt if you got that one, Your Ladyship. I’ve only just found it myself.
CORA: Is it a secret, or could you tell Mr Brocket?
MR MOLESLEY: I’d be glad to, milady.
CORA: He should come and see the rose garden. He could give us some ideas.
ROBERT: Old Molesley’s a champion. Or he would be in a fairer world.
VIOLET: Don’t you start.
ISOBEL: I’m afraid I’ve been annoying Cousin Violet on that score.
VIOLET: If Molesley deserves first prize for his flowers, the judges will give it to him.
ROBERT: They wouldn’t dare.
VIOLET: Really, Robert, you make me so annoyed. Isn’t it possible I should win the thing on merit?
ROBERT: I think the appropriate answer to that, Mama, is, “Yes, dear.”
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD
DAISY: It’s nice to get the afternoon off.
O’BRIEN: I don’t know why we’re bothering. We’ll have missed the speeches as it is.
THOMAS: Don’t be such a grouch.
O’BRIEN: I’ll grouch if I want to.
ANNA: You should’ve punished one of them at least.
BATES: They know that I know. That’s worth something.
ANNA: What do you think will happen to Mrs Patmore?
BATES: She’ll muddle through with Daisy for help. In the long term, we’ll just have to wait for the doctor to give his opinion.
ANNA: I hope there’s something they can do.
BATES: I hope so, too. But if there isn’t, I hope they tell her there isn't. Nothing is harder to live with than false hope.
ANNA: I wish you’d just come out with it.
BATES: With what?
ANNA: Whatever it is you’re keeping secret.
BATES: I can’t.
ANNA: You don’t deny it, then?
BATES: No, I don’t deny it. And I don’t deny you’ve a right to ask. But I can’t. I’m not a free man.
ANNA: Are you trying to tell me that you’re married?
BATES: I have been married, yes, but that’s not all of it.
ANNA: Because...because I love you, Mr Bates. I know it’s not ladylike to say it, but I’m not a lady, and I don’t pretend to be.
BATES: You are a lady to me. And I never knew a finer one.
A cart drives up.
STRANGER: If you want a lift, I can take one of you, but not more.
BATES: One of the women.
ANNA: No, you must go. Then we can all hurry and meet you there.
BATES: Yes, all right. Mustn’t slow you down. There’s been too much of that already.
(Bates gets in the cart.)
INT. VILLAGE HALL
SYBIL: Have you recovered from our ordeal?
GWEN: Well, I got a letter this morning. They must’ve written it as soon as I left the office. They are pleased to have met me, but I do not quite fit their requirements. So, it was all for nothing.
SYBIL: I don’t agree.
GWEN: Only a fool doesn’t know when they’ve been beaten.
SYBIL: Then I’m a fool for I’m a long way from being beaten yet.
Violet announces the winners.
VIOLET: And now, for the first three...
MARY: When you ran off last night, I hope you hadn’t thought me rude.
MATTHEW: Certainly not, I monopolised you at dinner, I had no right to any more of your time.
MARY: You see, Edith and I had this sort of bet…
MATTHEW: Oh, please, don’t apologise. I had a lovely evening, I’m glad we’re on speaking terms. Now, I should look after my mother.
EDITH: Why was Cousin Matthew in such a hurry to get away?
MARY: Don’t be stupid.
EDITH: I suppose you didn’t want him when he wanted you, and now it’s the other way around. You have to admit, it’s quite funny.
MARY: I’ll admit that if I ever wanted to attract a man, I’d stay clear of those clothes and that hat.
EDITH: You think yourself so superior, don’t you?
MARY: Ugh.
EDITH: And I think she who laughs last laughs longest.
CORA: Did that missing box of yours ever turn up?
ROBERT: Oh, It was a fuss about nothing. They must’ve put it back on the wrong shelf when they were dusting. Bates found it this morning.
CORA: Next time, have a proper look before you start complaining. I’m sure the servants were frightened half to death.
ROBERT: Mia culpa.
VIOLET: And now the Grantham Cup for the best bloom in the village. And the Grantham Cup is awarded to...
(Violet reads her own name on the judges’ paper.)
VIOLET: Mr William Molesley...for his Comtesse Cabarrus rose.
ISOBEL: Bravo! Well done! Bravo!
VIOLET: Congratulations, Mr Molesley.
MR MOLESLEY: Thank you, milady. Thank you for letting me have it.
VIOLET: It’s the judges who decide these things, not me. But very well done.
ISOBEL: Congratulations, so well deserved.
ROBERT: Bravo, Mama. That must’ve been a real sacrifice.
CORA: And bravely born.
VIOLET: I don’t know what everyone’s on about.
CORA: But I...
VIOLET: All is well, my dear. All is well.
INT. LADY EDITH'S BEDROOM
Edith writes a letter just before bed. It is addressed to His Excellency the Turkish Ambassador, 43 Belgrave Square, London, SW.
End of the episode.
Ecrit par Stella