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#302 : Un dîner à l'américaine

L'avenir de Downton pend dangereusement sur la balance. Dans l'espoir de sauver financièrement la maison de sa grand-mère américaine, Mary et Violet conspirent pour faire de Downton le plus grand évènement qu'il n'y a jamais eu avant pour les amis et les voisins. Mme Hughes fait face à des nouvelles inquiétantes. Les efforts d'O'Brien accélèrent la progression de son neveu Alfred donnant de la rancoeur à Thomas.


4.33 - 12 votes

Titre VO
Episode 2

Titre VF
Un dîner à l'américaine

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Première diffusion en France


Promo 1

Promo 1


Promo 2 (vo)

Promo 2 (vo)



Logo de la chaîne TMC

France (inédit)
Vendredi 06.09.2013 à 22:00
0.70m / 3.9% (Part)

Logo de la chaîne ITV

Grande-Bretagne (inédit)
Dimanche 23.09.2012 à 21:00

Plus de détails


Réalisateur : Brian Percival

Scénariste : Julian Fellowes


Distributions :

Hugh Bonneville... Robert Crawley, Comte de Grantham
Elizabeth McGovern... Cora Crawley, Comtesse de Grantham
Maggie Smith... Violet Crawley 
Michelle Dockery... Lady Mary Crawley
Laura Carmichael... Lady Edith Crawley
Dan Stevens... Matthew Crawley
Penelope Wilton... Isobel Crawley
Jim Carter... Charles Carson
Phyllis Logan... Elsie Hughes
Joanne Froggatt... Anna Smith
Brendan Coyle... John Bates
Sophie McShera... Daisy Robinson Mason
Lesley Nicol... Beryl Patmore
Rob James-Collier... Thomas Barrow
Siobhan Finneran... Sarah O'Brien  
Kevin Doyle... Molesley
Robert Bathurst... Sir Anthony Strallan
Davis Robb... Docteur Clarkson
Matt Milne... Alfred Nugent
Jason Furnival... Craig
Neil Bell... Durrant


Guests Stars :

Sarah Crowden (Lady Manville), Shirley MacLaine (Martha Levinson), Lucille Sharp (Reed)





Mary and Matthew drive towards Downton.


MARY: Who will groan first when they see it, Granny or Papa?

MATTHEW: I should think they’ll howl at the moon in unison.




Matthew drives the car up to the front door. Robert, Cora, Edith, and Alfred come out to greet them.


ROBERT: What in god’s name is this? Well, I never.

CORA: Where did this come from?

MATTHEW: I ordered it on the way through in London, picked it up on the way back. It’s an AC.

ROBERT: Well, at least it’s English.

(Cora greets Mary.)

CORA: Welcome back, my darling.


Robert shakes hands with Matthew.


ROBERT: How was the honeymoon?

MATTHEW: My eyes have been opened.

ROBERT: Don’t I know it. Now come on in.

MARY: Did Anna get back all right?

CORA: She did.




Thomas enters.


THOMAS: Who’s that for? And why’re you doing it down here?

(Alfred has a shirt spread out on the dining table.)

ALFRED: It’s for Mr Matthew. It was creased and I brought it down to iron.

THOMAS: You’re never looking after him. What about Mr Molesley?

ANNA: He’s staying on at Crawley House.

THOMAS: Then why wasn’t I asked?

O’BRIEN: Mr Carson thought it best.

THOMAS: Did he, indeed? I wonder how that came about. And if you are learning how to do your job, you should never open a shirt in a room like this where it might be marked, let alone put studs in it. Do that in a dressing room and nowhere else.

ALFRED: Thank you.

O’BRIEN: Yes, thank you, Thomas. For always trying to be so very helpful.




MARTHA LEVINSON: So, how did you enjoy the south of France?

MARY: It was lovely. But almost too hot even now.

MARTHA: I think it’s such a shame they close things up during the summer. I love the sun.

VIOLET: So we can see.

MARY: Though you couldn’t be in Cannes for the summer. No one could bear it.

MARTHA: I could.

VIOLET (aside to Robert): Just how long is she here for?

ROBERT (aside to Violet): Who knows.

VIOLET (aside to Robert): No guest should be admitted without the date of their departure settled.

ROBERT (aside to Violet): You won’t get any argument from me.

VIOLET: Humph.

ISOBEL: There’s a hideous pile of post, I’m afraid. I put it on the hall table. Don’t look at it tonight.

MARY: What have you been up to?

ISOBEL: As a matter of fact, I’ve found myself a new occupation. But I’m afraid Cousin Violet doesn’t think it’s quite appropriate.

VIOLET: Can we talk about it afterwards?

MARTHA: Are there still forbidden subjects in 1920? I can’t believe this.

VIOLET: I speak of taste rather than law.

MARTHA: Well, it’s not my taste. What about you, Cora?

CORA: I agree with Mama. Some subjects are not suitable for every ear.

MARTHA: Oh. Pas devant les domestiques? Ha. Come on, my dear. Carson and Alfred know more about life than we ever will.

(Carson’s mouth opens.)

ROBERT (aside to Violet): Can’t we stop this?

VIOLET (aside to Robert): How? It’s like a runaway train.

(Mrs Levinson is the last to put down her silverware.)

CORA: Shall we go through?


Everyone rises from the table.


MARY: What about poor old Strallan? Have you seen anything of him?

EDITH: I don’t know why you call him poor or old when he’s neither.


Mary looks away with raised eyebrows. The ladies leave. Violet lingers to have a word with Robert.


VIOLET: Isn’t it dangerous to let this Strallan nonsense simmer on?

ROBERT: Well, to be fair, I don’t think it’s coming from him.

VIOLET: Then ask him to end it. It’ll be more effective than if we try.




Alfred returns to the kitchens.


MRS PATMORE: Oh, she ate it, then? I’m never sure about Americans and offal.

ALFRED: I think she’d eat whatever you put in front of her, that one. What a gob. I thought Mr Carson was gonna put a bag over her head.

(Alfred turns around and Martha Levinson’s maid is standing there.)


REED: Mrs Levinson knows you make fun of her. But she makes fun of you.

MRS PATMORE: Then we’re all square, aren’t we?


Daisy crouches at the oven.


DAISY: The chimney isn’t drawing properly. This oven’s not hot enough.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, a bad workman always blames his tools.

HUGHES: Oh, you’re busy.

MRS PATMORE: No, I’m not. Well, we’re eating in half an hour, but it’s all done.

HUGHES: Well, if you could spare a minute.




Matthew and Robert smoke and drink together.


MATTHEW: This is very good. I hope you didn’t open it for me.

ROBERT: Certainly I did. To welcome you into this house as my son. I can’t tell you how glad it makes me.

MATTHEW: Robert, I want us always to feel we can be honest with each other.

ROBERT: Of course.

MATTHEW: Because Mary’s told me about your present difficulties.

ROBERT: She was right. Losing Downton will affect you both more than anyone.

MATTHEW: I wonder if she’s told you about the will of Lavinia’s father.




Mary and Violet speak together in one part of the room.


VIOLET: Well, yes. Your father told me all about it. But I cannot understand why so much money was put into one company.

MARY: I couldn’t agree more.

VIOLET: Now we’re to be turned out of Downton. Even Lloyd George can’t want that.

MARY: I’m not sure he’s a good example.

VIOLET: The point is, have we overlooked something? You know, some source of revenue previously untapped? If only we had some coal, or gravel, or tin.

MARY: Well, I can think of someone who’s got plenty of tin.


Mrs Levinson speaks with Cora, Isobel, and Edith in another part of the room.


MARTHA: So, you help women who have…fallen over.

ISOBEL: Not quite.

CORA: Cousin Isobel helps women who’ve had to degrade themselves to survive. There’s a centre in York.

MARTHA: Oh, no addresses, please, or Alfred will be making notes.


Martha winks at Alfred as he serves them tea. Alfred smiles in amusement, but Carson gives him a sharp look.


MARTHA: So what do you do for these women?

ISOBEL: Well, first we like to send them away...to rest.

MARTHA: I should think they’d need it.

ISOBEL: And then we try to find them alternative employment.

CORA: The war destroyed many households. In thousands of families, the bread winners are dead.

MARTHA: So, you want me to contribute?

CORA: You don’t have to give money after every conversation, Mother.

MARTHA: No? Isn’t that what they English expect of rich Americans?




ROBERT: But why can’t you benefit from the will? You’ve done nothing wrong.

MATTHEW: When Swire made it, he didn’t know I’d broken his daughter’s heart. It was to reward my fidelity when, in fact, I’d betrayed her. If I kept that money, I would be no better than a common criminal.

ROBERT: I see. Well, if that’s how you feel, then there’s no more to be said.


Anna enters, then freezes.


ANNA: I’m ever so sorry, milord. I thought you were out of here.

ROBERT: Yes, we should be. Please, we’re going now.

(Matthew and Robert down their drinks and leave the room.)




Mrs Hughes refastens her blouse.


MRS PATMORE: It’s a lump, alright. There’s no point in dithering about that. What are you going to do about it?

HUGHES: Don’t know.

(Mrs Patmore puffs out her breath.)

MRS PATMORE: Well, I do know. Tomorrow you’ll make an appointment with the doctor and we’ll see what he’s got to say.

HUGHES: But what if it’s—


(Mrs Patmore puts up a hand.)

MRS PATMORE: If it is, and I’m not saying it is, it’s best to know now.

HUGHES: I suppose so.


Mrs Hughes starts to cry and Mrs Patmore pats her arm.


MRS PATMORE: Now, look. You’ll not be alone for a minute if you don’t want to be. But we have to get it seen to.

HUGHES: And then there’s expense.

MRS PATMORE: Well, if you must pay money, better to a doctor than to an undertaker.

HUGHES: If that’s an example of your bedside manner, Mrs Patmore, I think I’d sooner face it alone.




Anna brings in a breakfast tray while Mary and Matthew are still cuddling in the dark.


MATTHEW: It seems rather shocking for Anna to have to find me en déshabille.

ANNA: I’m made of stout stuff, sir. Don’t worry about that.

MARY: Are you seeing Bates today?

ANNA: I am. And I can’t wait.

MARY: Well, give him our best wishes.


Anna leaves.


MATTHEW: I’m sorry, it still seems odd to be found in your bed.

(Mary turns to Matthew.)

MARY: But very nice.

MATTHEW: Oh, as nice as nice can be.

(They kiss and go back to cuddling.)

MATTHEW: I’m going to see Jarvis today and find out what houses are available.

MARY: Do you have to when these are our last days here? I thought something might have turned up when we were away, but it seems it hasn’t.

MATTHEW: Would you rather wait until we have to go and found a new house then?

MARY: After all, darling, you’re the one who’s pushing us out.

(They kiss.)




Prostitutes solicit men in the alley. Isobel enters the alley. One of the women is Ethel. Ethel recognizes Isobel as she walks past her spot, and Ethel shrinks behind a column. Isobel passes, then slows to a stop. She turns sharply, having remembered Ethel, but Ethel is gone.


PROSTITUTE: Good evening, sir.




SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: But Mary’s only just got back from honeymoon. It’s a family time.

EDITH: But you are...

STRALLAN: Please, stop saying I’m family when I’m not. I’ll be there for the big dinner next week. What is it?

EDITH: I know you don’t mean to hurt me, but...

STRALLAN: Of course I don’t. It’s the last thing I’d ever wish to do.

EDITH: Then why do you shove me away?

STRALLAN: I don’t want to. Not at all. But...

EDITH: If you’re going to talk about your wretched arm again, I won’t listen.

STRALLAN: It’s not just my arm. I’m too old for you. You need a young chap with his life ahead of him.

EDITH: But your life’s ahead of you.

STRALLAN: Oh, my dear, if only you knew how much I’d like to believe that.

EDITH: Then it’s settled. You’re not going to push me away anymore. Are you are coming for dinner tonight. That’s all there is to it.




Anna enters the prison. She sits across from Bates.


BATES: How did you get on with Vera’s book?

ANNA: I had a few answers waiting for me when I got back and two returned address unknown.

BATES: Who from?

ANNA: Let me see. One was...a Mr Harlip, I think, and the other was... Mrs Bartlett, I think.

BATES: Well, Harlip doesn’t matter. He was a cousin in the north, she never saw him. But Mrs Bartlett’s a shame. She lived around the corner, she was very friendly with Vera.

ANNA: I’ll find her. Don’t worry.

BATES: Tell me about France. Did you eat frog’s legs and dance the cancan?

ANNA: No. But I bought a garter.




Dr Clarkson finishes washing his hands.


DR CLARKSON: You have no other symptoms?

HUGHES: Not that I’m aware of.

DR CLARKSON: You’re not feeling ill or tired?

HUGHES: I can’t swear to not feeling tired, but nothing out of the ordinary.

DR CLARKSON: Very well. I’m just going to conduct a preliminary examination.

MRS PATMORE: Do you mind if I stay?

DR CLARKSON: I should prefer it.




Thomas sees Alfred walking down the corridor with something.


THOMAS: What’ve you got there?

ALFRED: Mr Matthew’s tailcoat. What do you think that is?

(Alfred points out something on the coat.)

THOMAS: Mm. Hard to say.

ALFRED: I’ve tried it with all the usual things, but I can’t shift it.

THOMAS: I’ll give you a tip if you like.

ALFRED: Would you? Really?

THOMAS: But keep it to yourself. Don’t want to give away all my secrets.




Violet enters to find Mary sitting alone reading a fashion magazine.


VIOLET: Oh, there you are, my dear.

MARY: Good morning, Granny.

VIOLET: I’ve been looking for you. Now, I want to know if we’re serious about getting that woman, about asking your other grandmother to come to our aid.

MARY: Well, she’s made of money, and there’s only Mama and Uncle Harold to share it when she’s gone.

VIOLET: We can’t wait that long. She looks as if she’ll bury us all. No, we must act now. We must make her feel it is her duty to save Downton.

MARY: But how? What can we do?

VIOLET: Well, get her to sense its value. Of its vital role in the area. You’re her granddaughter. This will be your house if it survives. Surely you can make something of that if she has a heart at all.

MARY: Well, come for tea this afternoon.

VIOLET: Then we can begin.




Mrs Hughes buttons up her coat.


DR CLARKSON: Believe me, there are several stages to go through before there’s any cause for despair.

HUGHES: Well, what stages?

DR CLARKSON: When you come back in a day or two, I’ll remove some fluid from the cist. With any luck, it’ll be clear and that will be that.

MRS PATMORE: How will you do it?

DR CLARKSON: With a syringe.

MRS PATMORE: Will it hurt?

HUGHES: Since he has to do it whether it hurts or not, I don’t see the point of that question. What I want to know is, what happens if the fluid is not clear?

DR CLARKSON: It’ll be sent away for analysis.

HUGHES: Because it may be...cancer?

DR CLARKSON: It may be cancer, but...I am fairly certain it is not.

MRS PATMORE: There you are. It’s very, very unlikely, isn’t it, Doctor?

HUGHES: If the doctor treats me like an adult, Mrs Patmore, why do you insist on treating me like a child?




Alfred enters as the kitchen maids go about their duties. Daisy pokes at the stove.


DAISY: Does this seem slow to you?

ALFRED: Not really.


Reed enters.


REED: Mrs Levinson is going to the Dower House with the others for tea.

(Reed stops when she sees Alfred walking out with a smile as he looks at the floor.)

REED: I think he likes me.

DAISY: He’s being friendly, that’s all.

(Reed rolls her eyes and exits.)




Mary enters as Matthew sits at the desk.


MARY: Are you all right? You seem to have been slaving away for hours.

MATTHEW: I want to up to date with it all before I go back into the office.

MARY: Anything from Mr Swire’s lawyer?

(Matthew pulls out a letter from the stack of post.)

MATTHEW: You can read it if you like.

(Mary reads it)

MARY: So you are definitely Reggie’s heir.

MATTHEW: Looks like it. But if they have to get a death certificate out of the Indian authorities, it won’t all be settled by Tuesday.

MARY: Good.

MATTHEW: Why is it good?

MARY: The delay may give you time to change your mind.

MATTHEW: Stop punishing me, Mary, please. If I accepted the legacy, I would be...taking money under false pretences. I’d be stealing. Your father understands, now why can’t you?

MARY: I don’t think he understands at all. He just doesn’t want to beg. Anyway, I’m off to Granny’s for tea. I’ll see you later.

(Matthew stands up and takes Mary’s hand, trying to heal the breach.)

MATTHEW: I do love you so terribly much.

MARY: Yes. I know you do.

(Mary leaves and Matthew is pensive.)




CORA: So what’s Harold doing now?

MARTHA LEVINSON: His idée fixe is yachts. Bigger yachts, faster yacht something with yachts.

CORA: Is he happy?

MARTHA LEVINSON: He’s much too busy to find out.

VIOLET: It always seems so strange to me that Cora has a brother.


CORA: You know how things work here, Mother. If there’s a boy, the daughters don’t get anything.

VIOLET: There’s no such thing as an English heiress with a brother. Why do we never see him?

MARTHA LEVINSON: Oh, Harold hates to leave America.

VIOLET: Curious. He hates to leave America. I should hate to go there.

MARY: You don’t mean that, Granny, when we’re both so drawn to America.

VIOLET: Indeed, indeed we are. Never more than now, when the bond between the Crawleys and the Levinsons is so strong.

CORA: That’s nice...if you mean it, Mama.

(Cora tilts her head dubiously, regarding Violet.)

VIOLET: I do. It is marvellous the way our families support each other.

MARTHA LEVINSON: You mean, you needed the Levinson cash to keep the Crawleys on top.

MARY: I’m not sure we’d put it that way.

VIOLET: I’m quite sure we would not.

(Cora looks between Mary and Violet, trying to read their intentions.)

MARY: But I hope you do feel that Mama’s fortune has been well spent in shoring up an ancient family.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Nah, you got to spend it on something.




Alfred helps Matthew into his tails. Matthew notices something on the coat.


MATTHEW: What happened here?

ALFRED: I...I just...

(Matthew turns to face Alfred. Alfred takes a step backward and drops his eyes to the ground, his hands clasped behind his back.)

MATTHEW: You just what?

ALFRED: There was a mark in it.

MATTHEW: Well, I know there was a mark in it, but you didn’t need to burn it away. (chuckles) What have you done? Well, I’ll—I’ll go down in my dinner jacket. You can send it to my tailor in London in the morning.

(Matthew takes off the coat and sees Alfred’s expression when he hands it over.)

MATTHEW: Come on, nobody’s died. Just find the dinner jacket.




CARSON: Mrs Hughes! There don’t seem to be any glasses laid for the pudding wine.

HUGHES: Oh, are they having one tonight?

CARSON: It’s on the menus. I don’t write them for my own amusement.

HUGHES: No, I daresay not.

CARSON: Mrs Hughes, I am trying, and so far failing, to persuade His Lordship to bring the staff levels back up to snuff. But until he does, it is vital that you pull your weight!




MARTHA LEVINSON: Newport’s not a jungle, not at all. But it is a little less formal.

VIOLET: Well, Matthew obviously wants you to feel at home in his play clothes.

MATTHEW: Don’t blame me for this. I’m afraid Alfred and I had a bit of a disaster earlier.

CORA: Why? What happened?

MATTHEW: Somehow the poor chap managed to burn a hole in my tails.

(Alfred is upset by the reference to his mistake.)

MATTHEW: But don’t worry, it can be mended.

(Carson looks up at Alfred in shock, lifting the serving dish he’s holding without thinking, just as Robert is trying to serve himself from the tray.)

ROBERT: Careful, Carson. Steady the...

(Carson leans back down.)

CARSON: Beg pardon, my lord.

STRALLAN: I rather like dinner jackets. And I agree with you, sometimes it’s nice to be informal.

EDITH: Especially when a couple is alone.

(Strallan tilts his head down at Edith, catching her hint. Violet and Robert exchanged displeased looks.)

MARY: But people like us should lead the fight to keep tradition going.

ISOBEL: If you mean we can never change, I can’t agree to that.

CORA: Nor me. I think accepting change is quite as important as defending the past.

MARY: But the role of houses like Downton is to protect tradition. That’s why they’re so important to maintain.

VIOLET: Don’t you agree, Mrs Levinson? We must do everything in our power to keep houses like Downton going.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Sure, if you think it’s worth it. So, who’s coming to dinner next week?

CORA: Some locals. We thought you’d like to see Downton on parade.

MARY: That’s right, Grandmamma. I’m glad we’ve planned a dinner. We can show you the real point of Downton.




Carson and Alfred enter as the other servants are preparing for their dinner.


ALFRED: I don’t know what to say, Mr Carson.

O’BRIEN: What’s going on here?

CARSON: Alfred has embarrassed the family. He forced Mr Matthew to appear downstairs improperly dressed.

O’BRIEN: Oh! You make it sound quite exciting.

CARSON: I will not tolerate vulgarity, thank you, Miss O’Brien.

ANNA: I’m sure Alfred didn’t mean to, Mr Carson.

CARSON: Humph.


Mr Carson exits.


ALFRED: I asked Thomas...

THOMAS: Oh, what’s this?

ALFRED: The stuff you gave me to clean the tails burned a hole in them.

THOMAS: No such thing. I gave you some soda crystals, that’s all. If you used them wrongly, it’s not my fault. This is what comes of making him run before he could walk.




Robert and Strallan talk alone.


STRALLAN: If you want me to stay away from her, of course I will.

ROBERT: I know it sounds harsh.

STRALLAN: Please, Robert, I understand completely. Lady Edith is your daughter and you don’t want her involved with some cripple who’s far too old.

ROBERT: Now you’re the one who’s harsh.

STRALLAN: The trouble is, she calls ‘round regularly. I can hardly ask for her not to be admitted. I suppose I could write to her.

ROBERT: I hope you won’t feel we can’t be friends after this.

STRALLAN: No. But let’s leave it for a while. I’ll duck out of the dinner next week.

ROBERT: It might be best. Thank you.

(Robert exits.)




Alfred and O’Brien enter to look over the various bottles. O’Brien points to one.


O’BRIEN: That’s the one you should’ve taken. Soda crystals.

ALFRED: But he didn’t give me that. He pointed to this one, I promise.

(Alfred takes the bottle next to the one O’Brien pointed at and looks at it in distress while she regards him.)

O’BRIEN: You don’t have to promise. I believe you.

(Alfred looks up at her as she leaves.)




Robert changes into his pyjamas.


ROBERT: So you think he’s not ready?

THOMAS: He’s just a lad, milord. He can see to the odd visitor, but permanent valet to Mr Matthew...is too much.

ROBERT: Actually, I’m pretty sure Mr Crawley would rather manage on his own.

THOMAS: They wouldn’t like that downstairs, milord.

ROBERT: I was afraid you’d say that. So, what would you suggest?

THOMAS: Ask Mr Molesley to join us. It’ll be kinder to Alfred in the long run, kinder than asking more than he can give.




Mary lies in bed while Matthew finishes getting ready.


MARY: How is that poor footman? I thought Carson was going to eat him alive.

MATTHEW: Very glum. To be honest, he has been a clot. I’ll have to send the coat up to London.

MARY: Well, get it done quickly. This dinner has to be the grandest of the grand.

MATTHEW: What do you hope to show her?

MARY: Why Downton matters. Why it mustn’t be allowed to fall apart.

MATTHEW: Hasn’t Cora had her share of the Levinson gold? I thought what was left was headed for your uncle.

MARY: It’s not so laid down in America. He’s as rich as Croesus as it is.

MATTHEW: So you mean to fleece her.

MARY: Since you’re the one to get us out of this hole if you wanted to, I won’t take any criticism, thank you.

MATTHEW: Will she do it?

MARY: Granny means to make her or die in the attempt. Now stop talking and kiss me before I get cross.




MRS PATMORE: You hear him. With any luck, you’ll know at once.

(Mr Carson barges through the slightly open door.)

CARSON: I wish you could get those maids under control. They’ve broken one of the serving dishes this time, and with a dinner next week!

HUGHES: We’re short of a footman. We’re short of a kitchen maid and one house maid at least, that’s if Anna’s to be a proper lady’s maid, which is what Lady Mary wants.

CARSON: Well, naturally. She likes things done properly.


Mrs Hughes finally loses it, taking Mr Carson aback.


HUGHES: For heaven’s sake! We can’t do things properly until either His Lordship allows us the staff we need or until you and the blessed Lady Mary come down from that cloud and join the human race!

CARSON: I can only suppose that you are overtired. I bid you goodnight.

(Mr Carson turns toward the door, but Mrs Patmore steps forward.)

MRS PATMORE: You see she...

(Mr Carson turns back around.)

HUGHES: Goodnight. Mr Carson. We will discuss the dinner in the morning.


Mr Carson nods and exits. Mrs Hughes glares for a moment as she turns to Mrs Patmore.


MRS HUGHES: And no, Mrs Patmore, you may not tell him.




Mr Carson goes over the dinner menus as Alfred approaches.


CARSON: Oh, have you finished with Mr Matthew?

ALFRED: I have. He’s in the dining room.

CARSON: Very good. You won’t need to attend to him again.

(O’Brien’s mouth opens in surprise as she sits at the table.)

CARSON: Mr Molesley will be coming up from the village.

ALFRED: Has Mr Matthew complained?

CARSON: He didn’t have to. That’s not your fault. We’ve hurried you along too fast. You mustn’t feel badly.


Carson exits and O’Brien steps up to Alfred.


O‘BRIEN: This is Thomas’s doing. But don’t you fret. I’ll make him sorry.


O’Brien exits. Alfred walks down the servants’ corridor, then stops and leans against the wall, hanging his head. Reed steps out from the kitchen and sees his downcast look. She steps directly in front of him.


REED: I’m on your side.

ALFRED (sigh): I’m glad somebody is.

(Reed surprises Alfred with a kiss. Daisy witnesses it from the kitchen. Reed takes off down the corridor and Daisy watches Alfred with her mouth open in surprise.)




Robert enters to find Edith and Matthew at the breakfast table.


ROBERT: No Mary?

MATTHEW: She says she’s a married woman now, so she can have breakfast in bed.

(Matthew looks over the mail and hands Edith a letter addressed to her.)

ROBERT: I’m sorry about your tails.

MATTHEW: Carson’s sending them up on the London train this morning. They’ll have to put a new panel in.

ROBERT: We thought we’d get Molesley to come and look after you. He knows your ways.

MATTHEW: I’m perfectly happy to...

ROBERT: I think it best if he comes.

CARSON: I do need to talk to you about the other staff we need, my lord.

(Robert puts down the serving spoon with a clang.)

ROBERT: Not now, Carson. But you may send for Molesley if Mrs Crawley has no objection.

(Edith drops her silverware with a clang and Robert looks over as she reads her letter with a distressed look.)

ROBERT: Edith?

(Matthew looks up at her.]

EDITH: Oh, Papa, how could you?

(Edith walks out crying.)

MATTHEW: Golly. Do you know what that was?

ROBERT: I’m afraid I probably do.




Cora embroiders while Mary sits down to visit with her.


CORA: I’m sorry, but quite enough of my father’s money has already been poured into Downton. Why should Harold lose half his inheritance because of our folly?

MARY: So it’s all Papa’s fault?

CORA: Well, it isn’t my mother’s and it isn’t my brother’s. I don’t see why they should pay for it.

MARY: We’re still going to ask.

CORA: What are you so afraid of? If we sell, we move to a smaller house and a more modest estate. We don’t have to go down the mine.

MARY: You don’t understand.

CORA: Mary, a lot of people live in smaller houses than they used to.

MARY: Which only goes to show that you’re American and I am English. I shall be Countess of Grantham one day and in my book, the Countess of Grantham lives at Downton Abbey.




Ethel approaches the shelter. Inside, Isobel talks to a woman who is eating eagerly.


ISOBEL: What job might you be suited to? Because we’re not simply here to give you food. We must try to find you your place in the world.

(Ethel enters. Isobel looks up.)

ISOBEL: Do you want to speak to me?

ETHEL: Yes, Mrs Crawley, I do.

ISOBEL: Have you come for our help? You’re very welcome if you have.

(Ethel backs away and begins to leave.)

ISOBEL: Wait a minute. I know you. You were the maid who brought your child into the dining room at Downton that time.

ETHEL: I’m sorry, this has been a mistake. I thought I was ready to ask you, but I’m not. I’m not ready.

ISOBEL: Ask me what?




Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore jump a little as they hear the door open and Dr Clarkson enters.


DR CLARKSON: I’m sorry to keep you waiting, ladies. The fact is, it’s not quite as simple.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, my god.

HUGHES: Mrs Patmore, will you please leave the hysteria to me.

DR CLARKSON: I’m afraid the test was inconclusive. I had hoped that the fluid from the cist would be clear, but there are traces of blood in it. Not enough to confirm the presence of cancer, but...a little too much to exclude it.

HUGHES: So, what happens now?

DR CLARKSON: I send it away for analysis. And this stage will take some time.

MRS PATMORE: How much time?

DR CLARKSON: Anything up to two months.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, my g...

(Mrs Hughes shoots Mrs Patmore a look and she stops.)

DR CLARKSON: Until then, please try to take it a little more easily. Sit down and put your feet up if you can.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, chance’d be a fine thing.

DR CLARKSON: Would you like me to say something to Lady Grantham?

HUGHES: No, thank you, Doctor. I’ll speak to her myself, if I need to. Thank you.




Edith cries into her Grandma Levinson’s shoulder on a bench. Robert comes across them as he walks with his dog.


ROBERT: My darling girl, what’s this?

MARTHA LEVINSON: I think you know what it is since you asked Sir Anthony to write.

ROBERT: Edith, you do understand that I only ever want what’s best for you.

EDITH: And you’re the judge of that?

ROBERT: In this, I think I am.

EDITH: Sybil marries a chauffeur and you welcome him to Downton, but when I’m in love with a gentleman, you...cast him into the outer darkness.

MARTHA LEVINSON: She has a point, Robert.

ROBERT: Strallan is certainly a gentleman.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Well then, besides which, Edith tells me he has a house, he has money, he has a title, everything that you care about.

ROBERT: You make me sound very shallow.

EDITH: Aren’t you, when you make me give him up because he has a bad arm?

ROBERT: That’s not the only reason. He’s a quarter of a century too old. Did she tell you that?

MARTHA LEVINSON: Your daughter is sad and lonely, Robert. Now, I don’t mean to interfere, but...

ROBERT: Don’t you?

EDITH: If you ban him from Downton, I’ll only go to his house. I mean it.

ROBERT: I don’t believe he’d see you.

EDITH: Then I’ll just wait outside until he does. How can you not like him because of his age, when almost every young man we grew up with is dead? Do you want me to spend my life alone?

ROBERT: I didn’t say I don’t like him. I like him very much.

EDITH: So do I, Papa. So do I.

(Edith goes to Robert and takes his hand.)

EDITH: Please, ask him back. He writes he’s not coming to Mama’s dinner, but please make him. Please, please, please.

ROBERT: Oh, all right then.




Anna and Bates sit at a visiting table.


ANNA: I found Mrs Bartlett. I wrote back to the tenant of her old house explaining, and they’ve sent me a forwarding address. I don’t know why they didn’t before.

BATES: Just because you know where she is doesn’t mean she’ll talk to you.

ANNA: Why not?

BATES: Bartlett was the nearest thing Vera had to a friend.

ANNA: That’s why I want to meet her.

BATES: Maybe, but when she looks at you, she won’t see the real Anna Bates.

ANNA: She doesn’t have to like me. I need her to be honest. I’m going to write and ask for a meeting. I can get to London and back in a day.

BATES: She won’t agree.

ANNA: I’ve the rent from the house, so I can make it worth her while. Why do you think Vera didn’t go and see her instead of sending that letter?

BATES: What do you mean?

ANNA: When Vera was frightened about your visit, she wrote that letter saying how scared she was instead of walking ‘round to see her friend.

BATES: Maybe she did both. So, what’s the news at home?

ANNA: I shouldn’t tell you, really. I haven’t told any of the others. It’s breaking the code of a lady’s maid. His Lordship’s in trouble. It seems they may have to sell.

BATES: What? Sell Downton? That makes me sad. I wouldn’t’ve thought there was much that could touch me in here, but...that does.




Mr Molesley runs to the house, very out of breath.




Mr Molesley enters, still panting for air.


MOLESLEY: It’s never come. They promised and promised, and I thought it was sure to be on the seven o’clock, but it’s not.

MATTHEW: Well, I’ll just have to wear black tie.

MOLESLEY: But Lady Mary! She’ll...

MATTHEW: These things don’t matter as much as they did. Lady Mary knows that as well as anyone.




Reed walks down the corridor. She turns a corner to find O’Brien exiting Robert’s dressing room with a stack of shirts.




Carson opens the front hall door for Violet.


VIOLET: Thank you. I know I’m early...

MARY: Granny. Come and see what we’ve done.

VIOLET: Oh, excuse us.




The table is magnificently decorated, including large arrangements of flowers. Mary shows it off eagerly.


MARY: What do you think?

VIOLET: Nothing succeeds like excess.

MARY: When shall we tackle her?

VIOLET: After dinner. We’ll get her on her own.

MARY: She won’t want to see all this go, not now she knows it’s for her own granddaughter. She won’t.

VIOLET: Never mistake a wish for a certainty. Let’s hope she won’t.




DAISY: Mrs Patmore.

MRS PATMORE: What is it now?

DAISY: It’s smoking, the range.

MRS PATMORE: The wind must be in the wrong direction. Just rake it through.

THOMAS: Where’s Alfred?


(Thomas enters in a panic.)

THOMAS: Where’s Alfred!

DAISY: I think he’s in the servant’s hall.




Thomas enters in a panic.


THOMAS (to Alfred): Where are they?

ANNA: Where are what?

THOMAS: His bloody evening shirts, that’s what! Where have you put them?

ALFRED: I haven’t touched his evening shirts. Why would I?

(Thomas turns to O’Brien.)

THOMAS: Have you done this?

O’BRIEN: Thomas, why would I know anything about His Lordship’s shirts?

THOMAS: When I find out...

O’BRIEN: Keep your histrionics to yourself and hurry up about it! Her Ladyship’s already in the drawing room. Are you telling me His Lordship’s not even dressed?

(Thomas shifts nervously on his feet, looking between O’Brien and Alfred. He rushes off and O’Brien turns back to her paper.)




Robert faces Thomas, still wearing his dressing gown.


ROBERT: You can’t have lost them all!

THOMAS: I haven’t lost any of them, milord. Th—they’ve been taken by someone, s—stolen, pinched.

ROBERT: Why would they do that?

THOMAS: To get at me, milord!

(Robert’s head tilts back in surprise and he approaches Thomas.)

ROBERT: Are you not popular downstairs?

THOMAS: Well, I wouldn’t say that, milord. But you know how people can be. They like a little joke.

ROBERT: Well, I’m sorry, but this is quite unacceptable. If you uncover the culprit, refer them to me. But for now, what are we going to do?

(Thomas’s mouth opens like a fish, trying to think of any solution to his dilemma.)




The guests arrive via motorcar.




Carson welcomes the guests.


CARSON: Good evening, Sir John.

(The guests enter happily, completely at odds to the panic stirring in the rest of the household.)




Mrs Patmore and Daisy inspect the heavily smoking oven.


MRS PATMORE: It can’t be going out!

DAISY: Well, it is. There must be a block in the floo.

MRS PATMORE: But the dinner’s not cooked. We haven’t even put in the soufflés.

DAISY: They’ll be no soufflés tonight.


Mrs Patmore enters, seeing the smoke.


MRS PATMORE: Yeah, but the mutton’s still raw.

HUGHES: What in heaven’s name is going on?

MRS PATMORE: I’ll tell you what! We’ve twenty lord and ladies in the drawing room waiting for dinner, and we’ve got no dinner to give them!

HUGHES: Oh, my god.




Matthew enters in a black tie and dinner jacket. He holds his arms out for Mary see him.


MARY: Why are you not in white tie?

MATTHEW: Darling, please forgive me. I’m afraid they never sent my tails back.


Robert enters in the same form of dress and Violet looks him over in surprise.


VIOLET: You’re not in white tie either? What have you come as?

ROBERT: I’m so sorry. Thomas has lost all my dress shirts.

(Violet sees Edith and Strallan laughing and smiling at each other over Robert’s shoulder.)

VIOLET: Why...why is he still here? I thought you’d given him his marching orders.

ROBERT: I had, but my dear mother-in-law intervened. I’ve a good mind to tell her...

VIOLET: No, no, no. No, not tonight. She must have it all her own way tonight, don’t you think?


Martha enters behind the gentlemen and exaggerates her surprise when she sees Matthew and Robert’s dinner jackets.


MARTHA LEVINSON: Oh, you two are dressed for a barbecue.

ROBERT: I feel like a Chicago bootlegger.

VIOLET: I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds almost as peculiar as you look.


Cora enters with hurried footsteps.


CORA: Robert, come quickly.

ISOBEL: What is it?

CORA: Apparently the oven’s broken down.

(Mary and Violet reel from the horrible added surprise.)

ROBERT: It can’t have done. What does that mean?

CORA: To cut a long story short, it means we have no food.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Oh! Funny clothes and no food. It should be quite an evening.

CORA: Thank you, Mother.




Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes whisper together as the family enters.


HUGHES: Nothing’s cooked. And nothing’s going to be cooked.

MARY: But surely...

CORA: Shall we just tell them to go home?

MARTHA LEVINSON: No, Cora, please, come on. They’ve come for a party, we’re going to give them a party. Carson.


MARTHA LEVINSON: Clear the table, you’re going to go down to the larders, you bring up bread, fruit, cheese, chicken, ham, whatever’s edible.


Carson, Mrs Hughes, Violet, Mary, and Robert reel from the break with tradition.


MARTHA LEVINSON: We’re going to have an indoor picnic. They’re going to eat whatever they want, wherever they want, all over the house.

(Carson stares at Martha in shock.)

CARSON: Are you quite sure, madam?

ROBERT: It’s not really how we do it.

MARTHA LEVINSON: How you used to do it.

ISOBEL: Oh, come on. It might be fun.

CORA: I agree. We’ll all pull together and it will be great fun.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Yes! Now, I know what we need. Does anyone here play the piano?


Mrs Levinson exits enthusiastically.


MARY (whisper): Oh, Mama, this is so exactly not what we wanted the evening to be.

CORA (whisper): If it’s the end of your undignified campaign, I won’t be sorry.


Cora and the others exit, while Violet shift uncomfortably.


MARY: We can’t just give up.

VIOLET: Certainly not. Oh, do you think I might have a drink?

(Violet turns her head and “realises” she just addressed Robert.)

VIOLET: Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were a waiter.




All of the servants pitch in to help out with the impromptu dinner plans. Mrs Patmore gives some instructions to Anna and Molesley.


MRS PATMORE: Slice that finely and fetch some parsley and cut the dry bits off.

ALFRED: You’re good to lend a hand.

REED: I don’t mind helping. I think it’s good to do other things sometimes.

ALFRED: I know you do.

MOLESLEY: There’s not much left of this.

ANNA: Better cut it in squares and put it with the ham. You’re very smart in your new valet’s outfit.

HUGHES: Alfred, go and check the meat larder. Bring anything back you think a human being could swallow.


Alfred takes off and Carson enters.


CARSON: Chop, chop, Mrs Hughes. We can rest later, but not yet.

MRS PATMORE: Mr Carson, would you just...?

HUGHES: Mr Carson’s quite right. There’s not a minute to lose.

(Mrs Patmore purses her lips at Mrs Hughes’s insistence on secrecy. The other servants continue to fix the dinner.)




Reed peeks into the meat larder to find Alfred.


REED: Psst. Do you want to know a secret? Those shirts that Thomas thinks you stole...I saw who took ‘em, and I know where they are.

ALFRED: Who did take them?

REED: Never mind that. But I followed. I’ll show you if you want.

ALFRED: Why are you being so nice to me?

REED: Because I like you.

ALFRED: And you can say it just like that?

REED: I’m an American, Alfred, and this is 1920. Time to live a little.

ALFRED: I thought you were just trying to find something out for Mrs Levinson.

REED: What would she need to find out when she can read ‘em all like the palm of her hand? She won’t help, you know.

ALFRED: Help with what?

REED: Never mind. Just kiss me again.

(Alfred steps forward and kisses her soundly. Daisy freezes and takes a step down towards the kitchen when she sees them.)




The servants place more food on the dining room table while Martha leads the guests in.


MARTHA LEVINSON: Now, all of you, find whatever it is you want to eat, and take it wherever you want to sit.


MARTHA LEVINSON: Anywhere. All over the house. If any of you have ever wanted to explore Downton Abbey, this is your chance.

ROBERT: I’m sorry if it’s all a bit casual.

LADY MANVILLE: It’s exciting, Lord Grantham. I feel like one of those bright young people they write about in the newspapers.

(Robert tenses and exchanges a look with Carson, who looks mortified.)

ROBERT: Thank you, Lady Manville.

ISOBEL: Cheer up. She won’t be here forever.

ROBERT: But how much damage will be done before she goes?




Someone plays the piano and Martha leads the guests in a song.


MARTHA LEVINSON & GUESTS: “Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you. Let me hear you whisper that you love me, too. Keep the love light glowing in your eyes so true.”

(Martha is clearly enjoying herself, along with several of the guests, while Carson looks continually uncomfortable and perplexed. Martha sits down in the chair next to Violet, who appears to be waking from a nap. Violet looks over, a bit startled to find herself being serenaded personally by Martha.)

MARTHA LEVINSON: “Let me call you sweetheart.”

(The others stop singing and allow Martha to finish out a solo at the end of the song.)

MARTHA LEVINSON: “I’m in love with you.”

(Martha takes Violet’s hand and kisses it, while Violet shifts in her chair. Robert and Carson exchange another look.)




HUGHES: Is there anything for our supper?

MRS PATMORE: I’ve hidden a veal and egg pie. Oh, I wish you’d let me talk to Mr Carson.

HUGHES: I don’t want to be a sick in his eyes for the next two months. Or a dying one in the months to come after that.

(Mrs Hughes steps quickly to the doorway and covers her mouth as she starts crying.)

MRS PATMORE: Shh. I know it’ll be all right.

(Mrs Hughes recovers enough to speak.)

HUGHES(voice breaking): No, you don’t, but I appreciate the sentiment.




Edith and Strallan stand close and speak in hushed voices.


STRALLAN: Are you absolutely sure you won’t wake up in ten years time and wonder why you’re tied to this crippled old codger?

EDITH: Only if you keep talking like that.

STRALLAN: Do you know how much you mean to me?

(Strallan leans forward and whispers in Edith’s ear.)

STRALLAN: You have given me back my life.

EDITH: That’s more like it.

STRALLAN: And you’re certain you won’t wait?

EDITH: To give you the chance to change your mind? Don’t worry, I can get it organized in a month. Shall we tell them tonight?

STRALLAN: No, no. I’ll come back in the morning.




Daisy encounters Alfred on her way down the stairs.


DAISY: Alfred, can I ask you something? Why do you like that American girl?

ALFRED: Steady. Who says I do?

DAISY: Don’t you?

ALFRED: Well, I suppose I do.

DAISY: And it doesn’t matter that she’s fast or that you won’t see her again after she’s gone home?

ALFRED: So what? She made me feel good about myself, Daisy. I feel good for the first time since I came here. That’s what matters to me.


Carson descends the stairs behind Daisy.


CARSON: Alfred! Hurry up. I need you to take ‘round the claret.

ALFRED: All through the rooms? Won’t they spill it on the floor?

CARSON: If you ask me, we are staring into the chaos of Gomorrah, but we have to give them more wine and you are going to help. What’s that?

(Carson points to the package in Alfred’s arms.)

ALFRED: I have to take it upstairs for His Lordship.

CARSON: Well, be quick about it.

(Carson takes the last couple steps down to the corridor and Daisy watches Alfred go up the stairs.)




MARTHA LEVINSON: But of course I’ll help you any way I can.

MARY: Oh, thank heaven.

(Mary and Violet smile in relief.)

VIOLET: Oh, it seems our family owes Downton’s survival to the Levinsons not once, but twice.

MARTHA LEVINSON: No. I’m so sorry, but you’ve misunderstood me. No, I cannot rescue Downton.

(Mary and Violet’s smiles fall.)

MARTHA LEVINSON: It’s a shame if it has to go, but I can’t.

MARY: But...why not?

MARTHA LEVINSON: Because your grandpa tied the money down. He felt that the Crawley family had quite enough.

MARY: But you said you’d help us.

MARTHA LEVINSON: I can entertain all of you in Newport and in New York, and I can add to Cora’s dress allowance, but that’s all. My income might be generous, but I cannot touch the capital. Besides, Mary, the world has changed. These houses were built for another age. Are you quite sure you want to continue with the bother of it all?

MARY: Quite sure.

MARTHA LEVINSON: If I were you and I knew I was going to lose it, I should look on the sunny side.

(Mary looks down at her lap in her disappointment. Martha talks pointedly to Violet)

MARTHA LEVINSON: Both of our husbands tied the money up tight before they were taken.

VIOLET: Lord Grantham wasn’t taken. He died.




Bates sees a guard hand something to his cellmate as he’s being escorted back.




The maids sit at the table with various occupations.


O’BRIEN: I suppose it’s scrap sandwich for the servants tonight.

ANNA: Mrs Patmore’s kept something by.


Thomas enters.


THOMAS: Who put them back?

ANNA: What?

THOMAS: The shirts. Who put them back?

O’BRIEN: Oh, they’re back, are they? You mean you’ve overlooked them in the first place.

(Reed smiles knowingly as she listens to the conversation.)

THOMAS: Don’t tell me what I mean, Miss O’Brien. I’m warning you.

O’BRIEN: Listen to yourself. You sound like Tom Mix in a Wild West picture show. Stop warning me and go and lay out His Lordship’s pyjamas.


Alfred enters.


ALFRED: What are you laughing at?

O’BRIEN: Seems those missing shirts went for a walk and now they’ve come home.

ALFRED: Really? Have they?




Craig turns to face Bates.


CRAIG: You didn’t see nothing.

BATES: I agree.

(Bates turns back to his book.)

CRAIG: ‘Cause if you did, I’ll cut you.

(Bates puts his book down and gets up to face Craig. He punches Craig in the stomach and wrestles him up against the wall, pinning him by the throat.)

BATES: Don’t ever threaten me.

CRAIG: I forgot I was sharing a cell with a murderer.

BATES: Don’t forget it again.




Robert enters, weary from the trials of evening. He pours himself a nightcap. He turns in surprise as Martha speaks.


MARTHA LEVINSON: This evening has made me homesick for America. It’s time to go.

ROBERT: I don’t suppose you want some whiskey to take to bed.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Oh, but I’d love one. No water.

(Robert pours a glass and hands it to her.)

MARTHA LEVINSON: Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t help you keep Downton, Robert.

(Robert pauses at her remark and sits down.)

MARTHA LEVINSON: That’s what Mary wanted.

ROBERT: Ah. I thought there was something.

MARTHA LEVINSON: You know, the way to deal with the world today is not to ignore it. If you do, you’ll just get hurt.

ROBERT: Sometimes I feel like a creature in the wilds whose natural habitat is gradually being destroyed.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Some animals adapt to new surroundings. It seems a better choice than extinction.

ROBERT: I don’t think it is a choice. I think it’s what’s in you.

MARTHA LEVINSON: Well, let’s hope that what’s in you will carry you through these times to a safer shore.

(Martha raises her glass to toast. Robert raises his glass in a toast, but Martha nods her head forward, waiting for him to clink her glass. He doesn’t so she clinks his glass. He’s slightly surprise. She rolls her eyes and they drink.)




Mrs Hughes stares gloomily into the fireplace.


CARSON: Is everything all right?

(Mrs Hughes turns around in surprise.)

HUGHES: Certainly.

(Carson looks at her with concern.)

HUGHES: Was there something you wanted?

CARSON: The kitchen managed well tonight in difficult circumstances. His Lordship sends his thanks.

HUGHES: Was the evening a success?

CARSON: The odd thing is, I think it was. Though for me, everything sprawled on the floor, eating like beaters at a break in the shooting, that’s not a party. It’s a works outing. Where’s the style, Mrs Hughes? Where’s the show?

HUGHES: Perhaps people are tired of...style and show.

CARSON: Well, in my opinion, to misquote Dr Johnson, “if you’re tired of style, you are tired of life.”

HUGHES: Goodnight, Mr Carson.

(Carson pauses at the door and turns back around.)

CARSON: You’d say if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you? I know I’ve been a bit crabby, but I am on your side.

HUGHES: Thank you for that.


Mrs Hughes smiles at Carson’s kindness. He looks at her with the same concern for the moment, then exits. Mrs Hughes looks around her sitting room, then follows him out, turning off the light. She meets Mrs Patmore in the corridor.


HUGHES: You’ve just missed an admirer. Mr Carson says you did well tonight.

MRS PATMORE: Humph. Did you tell him?



They walk down the corridor together.


HUGHES: And what is there to tell? One day, I will die. And so will he, and you, and every one of us under this roof. You must put these things in proportion, Mrs Patmore, and I think I can do that now.

(Mrs Patmore nods and puts a hand on Mrs Hughes’s arm before going off to bed. Mrs Hughes turns off the lights in the corridor.)


End of the episode.

Ecrit par stella

Kikavu ?

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cartegold  (14.04.2019 à 22:30)
J'aime bien le personnage d'Alfred, il est rafraîchissant !


Merci au rédacteur qui a contribué à la rédaction de cette fiche épisode

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