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#303 : Au pied de l'autel

Le plus beau jour de la vie d'Edith arrive enfin. Est-ce que son enthousiasme va enfin convaincre sa famille que l'âge de M. Strallan n'a pas d'importance ? Alors que de graves problèmes financiers menacent Downton, Mary prend les choses en mains et arrive à remettre le domaine sur le droit chemin. Pendant ce temps, les problèmes de Mme Hughes s'aggravent et Anna aide considérablement M. Bates à faire face à certaines situations qui deviennent de plus en plus génantes pour lui.


4.45 - 11 votes

Titre VO
Episode 3

Titre VF
Au pied de l'autel

Première diffusion

Première diffusion en France


Promo 303 (VO)

Promo 303 (VO)


3.03 - Une scène (VO)

3.03 - Une scène (VO)


Scènes coupées (vo)

Scènes coupées (vo)


Scènes coupées (vo) Part. 2

Scènes coupées (vo) Part. 2



Logo de la chaîne TMC

France (inédit)
Vendredi 06.09.2013 à 23:00
0.70m / 5.9% (Part)

Logo de la chaîne ITV

Grande-Bretagne (inédit)
Dimanche 30.09.2012 à 21:00

Plus de détails


Réalisateur : Andy Goddard

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
Jessica Brown Findlay... Lady Sybil 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
Allen Leech... Tom Branson
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
Amy Nuttall... Ethel Parks
Matt Milne... Alfred Nugent
Jason Furnival... Craig
Neil Bell... Durrant


Guests Stars :

Karl Haynes (Dent), Clare Higgins (Mme Bartlett), Emma Keele (Mavis), Mark Penfold (M. Charham), Ged Simmons (Turner)





Servants prepare the hall for a wedding reception. Edith looks down on the preparations from the balcony with a smile. She goes to the ground floor and looks around at the flowers and glasses and servants bustling about. Violet enters with Alfred.


VIOLET: Oh! Hello, Edith, dear.

EDITH: Hello, Granny. Isn’t it exciting?

(Edith assists Violet over the rolled up carpet, Alfred stands by with a ready arm.)

VIOLET: At my age, one must ration one’s excitement.




Cora and a maid are arranging the gifts as Cora and Edith enter.


VIOLET: See, I told her everything would come right, but she wouldn’t believe me.

EDITH: I still can’t. Something happening in this house is actually about me. The dress came this morning.

VIOLET: I was rather sad you decided against Patou. I would’ve paid.

CORA: Lucile was safer. We don’t want her to look like a chorus girl.

VIOLET: How is Anthony? Excited, I hope.

EDITH: Desperately. Just when he thought his life would never change, he’s going right back to the beginning.

VIOLET: Oh. What an invigorating prospect.




O’BRIEN: I hope you’ve got your shirt ready for tonight.

THOMAS: In case you’re interested, I’ve hidden a couple, so I won’t be caught out that way again.

O’BRIEN: Why should I be interested?

THOMAS: That goes for you, too.

ALFRED: What have I done?

O’BRIEN: Take no notice.


They go separate ways. Anna puts on a coat as she walks down the corridor.



(Anna stops and turns around.)

HUGHES: Are the flowers done?

ANNA: Yes.


Mrs Hughes joins her as she walks.


ANNA: I’ll check them on Saturday morning and lose anything that’s going over. I’ve kept back a few in bud. I’ll be home for the dressing gong.

HUGHES: Oh, we’ll manage.


Anna leaves and Mrs Patmore approaches Mrs Hughes.


MRS PATMORE: Still no word from the doctor?

(Mrs Hughes waits for the door to close full behind Anna. They speak in hushed voices.)

HUGHES: I’d have told you if there was.

MRS PATMORE: They don’t mind stringing it out. Should we go and see him?

(Mr Carson hears part of their conversation through the open door nearby.)

HUGHES: Why? I’m sure if he knew anything, he would have said.




Thomas catches Molesley as he exits Matthew’s dressing room.


THOMAS: How are you today, Mr Molesley?

(Molesley drops some of the clothes he’s carrying as he turns around and Thomas picks them up for him.)

MOLESLEY: Er, very well, thank you.

(Thomas follows alongside Molesley.)

THOMAS: You were talking the other night about your friend’s daughter. Is she still looking for a place?

MOLESLEY: She is. You read about the servant shortage in the newspapers, but you can’t find a situation for a lady’s maid, not one. She’ll end up as a house maid if she’s not careful.

THOMAS: Well, we can’t have that, Mr Molesley. But if I were to tell you something...

(Thomas stops Molesley.)

THOMAS: You must promise not to breathe a word of it downstairs. Miss O’Brien doesn’t want it known.




Cora arranges flowers while Robert sits at his desk and Tom and Matthew read on the couches.


CORA: How will they advertise it?

ROBERT: I don’t know exactly. “Desirable nobleman’s mansion with surrounding estate and properties.”

TOM: Where will you go?

ROBERT: We have some land further north at Eryholme, on the border with Durham. It came with my great-grandmother. The house is pretty and we might make something of it. We could always rename it “Downton Place.”

MATTHEW: Who lives there now?

ROBERT: A tenant. But we can come to an arrangement that keeps him happy.

CORA: Let’s take a picnic there tomorrow. Take a break from the wedding on Edith’s last day of freedom.


Mary and Sybil enter.


MARY: Molesley’s in the hall. He wonders if he might have a word.

MATTHEW: I’ll come through in a minute.

MARY: Not with you, with Mamma.

(Matthew looks up from his newspaper in surprise.)

MARY: Molesley.


Molesley enters with a smile. Then his face falls to find the entire family there.


MOLESLEY: Your Ladyship, may I have a word?

CORA: Of course.

MOLESLEY: Milady, might I be allowed to put forward a candidate as Miss O’Brien’s replacement?

CORA: What?

(Robert turns around in surprise.)

MOLESLEY: When the time comes.

(Robert walks over.)

ROBERT: Is O’Brien leaving?

MOLESLEY: I hope I’ve not spoken out of turn. Only, I didn’t want to let it go and miss the chance. I thought you knew.

CORA: Of course I know. Thank you, Molesley. I’ll be happy to listen to recommendations when, as you say, the time comes.

MOLESLEY: Thank you, milady.


Molesley bows to her and the others and exits.


ROBERT: Well, I must confess, I will watch her departure with mixed emotions.

MARY: Mine are fairly unmixed.

SYBIL: Did you have a clue?

CORA: Not a clue. How very disappointing.

ROBERT: But, in a way, it raises the big question: when do we tell the staff that the end is nigh?

MARY: It makes it sound so final.

ROBERT: I’m afraid it is final.

MARY: Well, don’t spoil Edith’s day. Let us get through the wedding first and then tell them afterwards.




Carson meets Dr Clarkson just as he’s exiting the hospital.


CARSON: Oh, er, Dr Clarkson!

(Clarkson stop and Carson catches up to him.)

CARSON: Do you have a minute?

DR CLARKSON: Er, one minute, yes. Do you mind if we...?

(Clarkson motions forward and Carson steps into stride beside him.)

CARSON: No. Only, I know that Mrs Hughes is suffering from a condition and I wondered if there was anything I could do to help.

DR CLARKSON: Well, you can help by lessening her duties. That’s really all I can say.

CARSON: But you can’t tell me how serious it is?

(Clarkson stops.)

DR CLARKSON: I’m afraid not. Even if I knew, which I don’t. Yet. Good day to you, Mr Carson.

(Clarkson tips his hat to Carson and walks on.)




MATTHEW: I had a telephone call from Charkham earlier.

MARY: Charkham?

MATTHEW: Reggie Swire’s lawyer. It seems the death certificate has arrived from India. He wants to bring it here.

MARY: Well, can’t he send it?

MATTHEW: He wants to bring it. He was quite definite. I’ve told him he can come tomorrow. There’s nothing going on particularly, is there?

MARY: You know there is. We’re taking a picnic to [?] to see the house we have to move into.

(Matthew closes his eyes as he remembers.)

MARY: I’m surprised you, of all people, can forget that.

MATTHEW: Well, he’s coming in the morning. I won’t put him off.

MARY: So this is the moment when you receive a huge fortune that could save Downton and you give it away.

MATTHEW: Will you choose where to give it?

MARY: How can I? I’d give it all to Papa.

MATTHEW: My darling, I hope, in some small part of you, you can understand.

MARY: I’m trying. Really, I am. But I can’t pretend I’m doing very well.




Cora looks at O’Brien with a sad frown as she fixes Cora’s dress.


O’BRIEN: Will there be anything more, milady?

CORA: No. Unless you have something you want to tell me.

O’BRIEN: What might that be, milady?

CORA: I won’t prompt you, O’Brien, if you’re not ready to say.


Robert enters. O’Brien leaves confused and Cora watches her go sadly.


ROBERT: Did she tell you why?

CORA: No. Maybe she doesn’t want to until she’s settled where she’s going, but she has let me down.

ROBERT: We should go. Strallan won’t be late. He never is, [?].

CORA: Oh. I know you’re not happy. But Edith will be in the same county. Locksley’s a nice house and the estate will give her plenty to do.

ROBERT: She’ll be a nurse, Cora. And by the time she’s fifty, she’ll be wheeling around a one-armed old man.




MRS PATMORE: Er, are you waiting down here ‘til they come in search of the pudding?

ALFRED: Er, no, Mrs Patmore.

(Alfred takes the tray and exits. Mrs Patmore sees Mr Carson waiting in the corridor.)

MRS PATMORE: Can I do something for you?

CARSON: Well, I’d better get back upstairs, but, erm... while you’re here... I saw Dr Clarkson today.


CARSON: I’m worried about Mrs Hughes.

MRS PATMORE: We’re all worried. But I don’t think he should’ve told you.

CARSON: He said it would help if we lessened her work load.

MRS PATMORE: I’m sure it would. But she won’t be pleased he’s been talking about her before it’s been confirmed.

CARSON: So, it is cancer?

MRS PATMORE: Not until it’s confirmed. But don’t say anything. She’d hate to think the doctor had told you.

CARSON: He didn’t tell me, Mrs Patmore. You told me.

(Mrs Patmore’s mouth opens and she sighs as she realises her mistake.)




Robert and his sons-in-law visit after the ladies have withdrawn.


SIR ANTHONY STRALLAN: Lady Edith… I mean, er...Edith tells me that you’re very interested in politics.


ROBERT: Tom is our tame revolutionary.

SIR ANTHONY: Every family should have one.

MATTHEW: As long as you are “tame.”

TOM: Tame enough for a game of billiards. What about it?

(Matthew tilts his head in agreement and they down their drinks and stand up)

MATTHEW: Can you tell them where we’ve gone?


They exit.


ROBERT: We’re getting used to Tom. And I hope you will, too.

SIR ANTHONY: We haven’t spoken, really, since it was all settled. I want you to know that I quite understand why you were against it.

ROBERT: Yes. Well...

SIR ANTHONY: I just hope you believe that I mean to do my level best to make her happy.

ROBERT: I do believe that. It was never at all personal, you know.

SIR ANTHONY: No, of course not. No. It’s just...because of all this and...

(Strallan indicates his bad arm.)

SIR ANTHONY: I’m far too old.

ROBERT: Anthony...the thing is done. There’s no point in raking it over.

SIR ANTHONY: But are you happy about it?

ROBERT: I’m happy Edith is happy. I’m happy you mean to keep her happy. That is quite enough happiness to be going on with.




Mrs Hughes goes over the menus with Carson.


HUGHES: There’s been a last minute change of mind about the wedding menus.

CARSON: Couldn’t Mrs Patmore do it?

HUGHES: Mrs Patmore’s given me her new order list. She’s done her job. It’s time for me to do mine.

CARSON: I just don’t want you to get tired.

(Mrs Hughes stops on her way up the stairs and spins around to look at him.)

HUGHES: Who have you been speaking to?

CARSON: No one. What do you mean?

HUGHES: Nothing. I don’t mean a thing. Now, let me get on.




Mrs Crawley tries to teach sewing to women off the streets.


ISOBEL: This is a simple stitch, but strong, and very useful in a drama.

MAVIS: When do we get sommat to eat?

ISOBEL: As I was saying, you should start it about, well, I would say, about half an inch away from the centre line...

(The women she’s teaching stare at Ethel entering behind Isobel, and she turns around and goes to her.)

ISOBEL: Oh, I’m glad you’ve come back. I do hope you’ve come for our help. You’d be so welcome if you have.

ETHEL: You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I am, ma’am. I’m past help.

ISOBEL: Nobody’s past help. And if you mean by that, you’re a prostitute...

(Ethel’s eyes widen in shock.)

ISOBEL: Well, then you should know that it is true of every woman who has come here to rebuild their lives, and I’m helping them. And I very much hope that I can help you, too.

MAVIS: That’s right. Why not come in and help us rebuild our lives?

ETHEL: That’s not why I’m here, Mrs Crawley. That is, I am a...what you said...but I don’t want help. Not for myself, but...

(Ethel looks over at the other women watching.)

ETHEL: The trouble is, every time I make up my mind, I change it. I’m sorry. This has been a mistake.

ISOBEL: Oh, please, please, don’t go. Not again.




Matthew stares at the letter in his hand.


MR CHARKHAM: It must be strange to receive a letter from a dead man.

MATTHEW: It’s very strange.

(Mary enters and Matthew quickly puts the letter in his coat pocket.)

MARY: We’re leaving. I’m sorry, Mr Charkham, to snatch him away.

MR CHARKHAM: It’s quite all right, Lady Mary. There will be papers to sign.

MATTHEW: Yes, I expect there will.


Charkham exits and Mary stares after him for a moment.


MARY: Papa has asked Anthony to meet us there so we can all face the future together. He’s bringing Isobel and Granny.

MATTHEW: It’s hard for your grandmother.

MARY: Matthew, it’s torture for all of us. And if I ever look as if I’m finding it easy to lose my home, then I am putting on an act.




CARSON: You sure you can manage this?

ALFRED: Quite sure, Mr Carson.

CARSON: It’s nothing hard. It’s not a shooting lunch. Give them some champagne first and that will allow you the time to set it out properly.

ALFRED: I’ll manage, Mr Carson. What’s this place we’re visiting?

CARSON: It’s one of His Lordship’s houses, though I’m curious as to why they’re going there today.

ALFRED: Maybe he likes to keep a check on things.

CARSON: Maybe.


The family talks as they exit the house. Matthew and Mary exit first, followed by, Edith, then Robert and Cora.


MATTHEW: We’ll see you there.


Carson waves a hand at Alfred.


CARSON: Off you go.

(Alfred goes to open Matthew’s car door.)

ROBERT: Mrs Banning; she was a cousin of Granny’s.

MARY: You want to come with us?

EDITH: Yes, thank you.

CARSON: Might I have a word, my lady?

CORA: Yes, of course. What is it?


Robert gets in the second car.


CARSON: This is a slightly awkward request, what with the wedding tomorrow.

CORA: Tell me.

CARSON: Mrs Hughes is very tired. I…I wonder if it might be possible for you to divert some of her work my way.

CORA: I don’t understand. What do you mean “tired”?

(Carson looks away awkwardly. Robert calls from the car.)


CORA: Carson?

CARSON: The fact is, Mrs Hughes is ill, my lady.

(Cora is very concerned.)

CARSON: She may be very ill. I’m extremely sorry to trouble you with this at such a moment, but I don’t want the wedding to sink her.

CORA: Of course not. But, my heavens, how will we manage without O’Brien, and now Mrs Hughes?

(Carson is confused.)

CARSON: Miss O’Brien?

CORA: She told Molesley…

ROBERT: Cora, please.


Cora looks at Robert in the car, then hesitates looking back to Carson, and then goes to the car.


CORA: I’m coming.

(Cora steps in and Carson closes the door and watches them all drive off.)




Anna turns into a residential area where a woman is taking laundry off the line.


ANNA: Mrs Bartlett? I’ve...I’ve brought the money.

(Anna gives Mrs Bartlett some money. Bartlett checks it and sticks it in her pocket.)

MRS BARTLETT: Well, it’s you’re loss ‘cause I got nothing to say.

ANNA: All I want to know is if Vera…

MRS BARTLETT: Oh! So you were on Christian name terms, were you? You do surprise me.

ANNA: If Mrs Bates ever suggested she was depressed or unhappy.

MRS BARTLETT: Of course she was unhappy. Her husband had left her and gone off with a trollop. He changed, you know. She was scared of him by the end and now he knows she had good reason.

ANNA: When did you last see her?

(Bartlett looks over at the other women trying to listen in as they take down their laundry.)

MRS BARTLETT: You better come inside.




The guards have the men walk in a circle around the yard. The man walking behind Bates whispers to him surreptitiously.


DENT: Bates. Pfft. Watch out.

BATES: What do you mean?

DENT: Search your room. Search your bed. They’ve set you up somehow, your cellmate, Craig and his mates.

GUARD: Stop talking!

DENT: Just do it.




MRS BARTLETT: Their door was open, so I looked in. She was cooking, but...she had to post a letter, so she walked me down the street. She said Bates was coming back later for his tea. She was terrified. She was in a strange mood. Jumpy and fearful, but determined. I remember she had made pastry and she was scrubbing it out of her nails like she didn’t care if she took the skin off.

ANNA: So, after she posted the letter, she went home on her own?

MRS BARTLETT: She did, poor soul. And I never saw her after.

(Mrs Bartlett sits down at the table with Anna.)

MRS BARTLETT: I can remember her now, walking away down the street. It was raining. No. Not raining, more like drizzle. And the gas light seemed to catch in the drops and make a sort of halo around her.

ANNA: A halo? Really?

MRS BARTLETT: You can laugh.

ANNA: When did you hear she was dead.

MRS BARTLETT: Next day. So I knew it was Bates. When I heard the verdict, I thought he’d swing. And he should have if the country hadn’t gone soft.




Violet sits in the back of a Strallan’s motorcar as Isobel sits up front with the chauffeur.


VIOLET: This is very good of you.

SIR ANTHONY: Nonsense, you were on the way. (to Isobel) I do wish you’d let me sit in the front.

ISOBEL: No, no. I prefer it. I’ve ridden in the front seat many times.

VIOLET: Aren’t you a wild thing.

SIR ANTHONY: Oh, it’s quite safe. There’s never been a safer method of travel.

VIOLET: Or a faster one.

SIR ANTHONY: Edith’s a speed fiend. She likes to go at a terrific lick.

VIOLET: Do you think you’ll be able to keep up with her?

SIR ANTHONY: I’ll try.

ISOBEL: What’s this place like? [?], is it? Do you know it?

VIOLET: Well, a little. My late husband kept the shooting there and we sometimes had luncheon in the house.

ISOBEL: Is it nice?

VIOLET: Nice enough, as a retreat from the world. I wouldn’t have thought it suited to much else.




Tables are set for luncheon on the grounds. A large house sits in the background. Cora looks at it fondly.


CORA: Downton Place.

(Robert does not look at the house with any enthusiasm.)

CORA: How lovely.

MARY: Won’t it be a bit cramped?

TOM: You do realise that for most people it looks like a fairy palace.

SYBIL: You’ll be able to run it with a much smaller staff.

ROBERT: This is it. I doubt we’ll need more than eight servants, tops. So it’ll be very economical. A…


Robert puts a finger over his lips as Alfred steps forward to place something on the table, then steps away.


VIOLET: What about me? Where am I to go?

ROBERT: We still own most of the village.

VIOLET: Oh. Perhaps I could open a shop.

EDITH: Good idea, Granny. What do you think [?] needs?

VIOLET: Well, if it’s like everywhere else: good manners and some decent conversation.

ISOBEL: Well, there you are then. You should have a roaring trade in minutes. How’s everything going?

EDITH: Very well, I think.

ISOBEL: I think it’s rather unfair that Mary should have an archbishop to marry her and you’ve got poor old Mr Travis.

EDITH: Oh, I don’t mind. It was such short notice and he was all booked up. And I prefer it, really, to have the man that christened us.




Mary and Matthew walk together.


MARY: What did Charkham come for?

MATTHEW: He gave me a letter from Swire. It seems he left one for each of the three potential heirs when and if they inherited. Mine is the only one to have been delivered.

MARY: And what did it say?

MATTHEW: I haven’t opened it. I can’t decide whether I will.

MARY: Why wouldn’t you?

MATTHEW: Because I know it’ll be a paean of praise. How Lavinia could not have found a better man, et cetera.

MARY: And you don’t want to read that?

MATTHEW: Since she could not have found a worse one, no, I don’t. I already feel bad enough, and if I read his words, they will stay with me forever.

(Matthew walks off and Mary stares after him with a confused scowl.)




Isobel walks down the stairs and searches the corridor. She finds Mrs Hughes, who is rather surprised to see her.



HUGHES: Mrs Crawley.

ISOBEL: We’re back from our delicious luncheon. And, erm, I was on my way home. You had a maid at Downton, Ethel Parks. I was here when she brought her son into the dining room.

HUGHES: Who could forget that?

ISOBEL: Do you have an address for her?

HUGHES: I do. If she’s still there.

ISOBEL: You see...


Another servant walks by and Isobel stops talking until the girl passes. She continues in a lowered voice.


ISOBEL: You see, I saw her this morning. And I’m afraid she’s fallen into a bad way. A very bad way.

HUGHES: Oh, dear. I am sorry to hear that. If you’d like to come with me, I’ll fetch it for you.

ISOBEL: Thank you.




Craig sits on his bed while Bates searches the bed underneath for planted evidence. Guards walk down the outside corridor. Bates finds something under his mattress. The guards approach his cell and he hears their keys jangle in the lock. The guards enter.


DURRANT: Get up, both of you! Against the wall. Mr Turner, search the bunk, please.

(The other guard searches the bed, smelling the pillow. Bates moves his hand along the wall, holding what he found.)

TURNER: Nothing here.


(The guard searches where Bates found the object, but it’s not there. The guard seems to think for a moment, then stalks out.)

DURRANT: Clean this mess up!

(Craig walks back to his untidy bed and shoves the mattress back toward the wall.)

CRAIG: Bastards.

(Bates watches Craig with a slight glare. He steps away from the wall, which now has a tiny fringe of cloth poking out of a crack between the stones.)

BATES: There’s a lot of bastards in here.

(Bates walks menacingly toward the bunk, then sits down on his bed.)




The servants sit down to their luncheon. Molesley turns to Anna.


MOLESLEY: I expect you’re tired. It’s a long day up to London and back again.

HUGHES: Was it worth the journey?

ANNA: Not really.

CARSON: Miss O’Brien, might I ask what you’ve confided in Mr Molesley, but have kept from the rest of us.

O’BRIEN: I don’t know what you mean.

CARSON: Mr Molesley appears to have given Her Ladyship the impression that you’re planning a change of some sort.


O’Brien turns to Molesley.


O’BRIEN: What’s this?

MOLESLEY: I—I’m sorry. I thought Her Ladyship would know.

O’BRIEN: Know what?

MOLESLEY: That you’re leaving.

O’BRIEN: I beg your pardon? How dare you make such an assumption!


Thomas watches the exchange and Mrs Hughes looks between O’Brien and Molesley.


THOMAS: Isn’t it time for the dressing gong, Mr Carson?

CARSON: Oh, it certainly is. Thank you.

(Mr Molesley tries to ask Thomas about the confusion as all the servants rise from the table.)

THOMAS: Excuse me, Mr Molesley, but I’ve got work to do, even if you haven’t.

(O’Brien glares at Thomas, then at Molesley.)

O’BRIEN: I’ll deal with you later.


O’Brien leaves. Molesley looks surprised and a little worried. Daisy stares at him as she’s clearing the table.


DAISY: You’re in the soup. I wouldn’t be in her bad books for a gold clock.

(Daisy exits and Molesley is left alone in the servants’ hall looking a bit stunned.)




CORA: You must have said something Molesley misinterpreted.

O’BRIEN: But I don’t say anything to him, milady, beyond “pass the salt” and “get out of the way.”

CORA: There must have been something. I’m afraid I do feel let down, O’Brien. I really do. And right on top of the wedding...


Someone knocks on the door, and Mrs Hughes enters.


HUGHES: You sent for me, milady?

CORA: Yes.

(Cora turns to O’Brien.)

CORA: Thank you, O’Brien.


Mrs Hughes lowers her gaze with a displeased expression as O’Brien passes her, and then looks up pleasantly at Cora as O’Brien shuts the door on her way out.


CORA: Mrs Hughes, I understand that you’re not well.

(Mrs Hughes is taken by surprise.)

HUGHES: Whom do you...understand that from? Because...if the doctor—

CORA: It wasn’t Doctor Clarkson.

HUGHES: It is not confirmed that I am ill, Your Ladyship. I’ve had a test, and I’m waiting for the results. But I am perfectly capable…

CORA: Mrs Hughes, I only want to say one thing, that if you are ill, you are welcome here for as long as you want to stay. Lady Sybil will help us to find a suitable nurse.

HUGHES: I see.

CORA: I don’t want you to have any concerns about where you’ll go or who’ll look after you, because the answer is here, and we will.

(Mrs Hughes is speechless and slightly emotional.)

HUGHES: I don’t know what to say, milady.

CORA: There isn’t anything more to say until we know where we stand, one way or the other.

HUGHES: Thank you.




EDITH: He thinks I don’t know, but of course I do. We’ll spend two weeks in Rome, then Florence, then Venice. So, I couldn’t be happier.

SYBIL: And what about Locksley? Is there masses to be done?

EDITH: It’s not too bad.

MARY: It’s not too bad downstairs. The bedrooms are killers.

ISOBEL: Well, don’t do anything too fast. It takes time to know how a house works.

VIOLET: I really think you should go to bed. No bride wants to look tired at her wedding. It either means she’s anxious or she’s been up to no good.

EDITH: I won’t sleep a wink.

SYBIL: Tonight or tomorrow?

VIOLET: Sybil, vulgarity is no substitute for wit.

SYBIL: Well, you started it.




O’Brien descends the stairs quickly and Molesley anxiously calls to her.


MOLESLEY: Miss O’Brien, please understand I didn’t mean any harm.

O’BRIEN: Well, why make it up in the first place?

MOLESLEY: I didn’t make it up, I was told.

O’BRIEN: Who told you?

MOLESLEY: Well...Mr Barrow mentioned it, but I think it was an honest mistake.

O’BRIEN: No. It wasn’t honest, and it wasn’t a mistake. But don’t worry about it, I can tell it wasn’t your fault, Mr Molesley. So we’ll forget about it, shall we?

(Molesley nods and starts to go into the servants’ hall, but he stops when O’Brien continues talking.)

O’BRIEN: And when you see Mr Barrow, you can tell him that I may make some honest mistakes myself in the future.


O’Brien enters the hall and Molesley stares after her in surprise. The servants stand around the table waiting for Carson to sit. He sits and they join him. O’Brien gives Thomas a dark look. Alfred sees Daisy standing at the table.


ALFRED: Why not sit down and eat with us?

DAISY: Oh, I couldn’t do that.

CARSON: Daisy will not sit down because the invitation is not in your gift, Alfred. She eats with Mrs Patmore in the kitchen.

(Alfred looks at Daisy and she turns to leave.)

ALFRED: Fancy a game or something later?

(Daisy and Mrs Patmore stop on their way out.)

MRS PATMORE: Oh, Daisy’s busy.


ANNA: I want to write a letter. Sorry.

MOLESLEY: I’ll play.

ALFRED: Let’s see how I feel.




Mary and Matthew are arguing in their pyjamas.


MATTHEW: What do you mean you’ve read it?

MARY: I didn’t think it was right to destroy a man’s last words without reading them. I felt it was wrong.

MATTHEW: It wasn’t your decision!

MARY: Well, I made it my decision! Do you want to hear what he says?


MARY: To start with, Lavinia must have written to him on her last day, only hours before she died.

MATTHEW: Well, that’s nonsense. There was no letter found in her room.

MARY: Be that as it may, she wrote to him after she tried to persuade you to call off the wedding and you wouldn’t.

MATTHEW: This is quite impossible.

MARY: “She loved and admired you for this sacrifice of your own happiness and she commended you to my care.”

MATTHEW: I can’t listen to any more of this.

MARY: You must. “I have few intimates, and so I’ve decided, in her name, to add you to my list of heirs.”

(Matthew listens impatiently with his back to Mary.)

MARY: “I think it unlikely that I’ll outlive both the first two, so there is little chance of your reading this letter, but if you do, and if the money has come to you, know it is with my full knowledge of what transpired. Please do not allow any grief, guilt, or regret to hold you back in its employment. God bless you, my boy. Reggie.”

(Matthew is still unhappy and unsure. He turns to look at Mary, who is staring at him expectantly.)

MATTHEW: You sure you didn’t write it.

MARY: I assume you know his hand.

MATTHEW: Not well enough to test a forgery. Besides, she couldn’t’ have written to him without our knowing. I’m not accusing you of faking it. But I suspect someone has.

(Mary looks up at Matthew in disbelief.)

MARY: So it won’t change your mind?

MATTHEW: Not yet it won’t.




Carson knocks at the door and enters as Mrs Hughes is writing at her desk.


CARSON: Time you were in bed. It’s a big day tomorrow.

HUGHES: I’ll just finish this.

CARSON: Is there something I can do for you?

(Mrs Hughes shakes her head as she continues writing.)


(Mrs Hughes pauses for a moment as Carson turns to leave. She turns around.)

HUGHES: Did you...say anything about me to Her Ladyship?

(Carson hesitates.)

CARSON: I don’t know what you mean. Why?

HUGHES: Don’t worry. She was very kind and...I was touched. As you know, I don’t worship them all, like you do.

CARSON: I wouldn’t put it like that.

HUGHES: But this time...I freely admit it. (voice breaking) I was quite touched.

(Mrs Hughes turns back to her desk and Carson exits.)




Mary enters while the servants are eating.


MARY: Am I interrupting?

(The servants all stand.)

MARY: No. Please. I just want to ask you all something.

ANNA: Milady, I’m sorry I’ve not been up.

MARY: Don’t worry. I’ll change properly after luncheon. But I had to catch you when you were all together.

CARSON: How can we help, my lady?

MARY: It’s a funny thing. Mr Crawley has heard that Miss Swire sent a letter on the day she died. If so, someone must have posted it for her, and we wondered if it were any of you.

(The servants all look at each other, but no one speaks up.)

CARSON: I’m afraid not. Given that the poor lady passed away that same day, an incident of this sort would have been reported to me or Mrs Hughes.

HUGHES: That’s right, milady.

MARY: I see. Well, thank you very much.


Mary turns to leave and the servants sit just as Daisy enters with tray.


DAISY: What were that about?

ANNA: Lady Mary wanted to know if anyone posted a letter for Miss Swire.

DAISY: Oh, I did that.

CARSON: Daisy? What did you say?


Mary re-enters and the servants stand back up.


DAISY: Poor Miss Swire’s letter. She’d written it and she asked me to put it into the box in the hall.

(Daisy turns to the stunned looking Mary.)


HUGHES: What were you doing in her room?

DAISY: Making up the fire. We started talking and she said she’d written a letter. She was ever so nice. I still get sad when I think about her.

HUGHES: And it didn’t occur to you to tell me?

DAISY: Tell you what?

MARY: Never mind. I am grateful to you, Daisy. You cannot know how much.




VIOLET: Well, this is the last of them.

ROBERT: I’m glad they’ve hurried it, so she can be married from Downton.

VIOLET: Are you? I should’ve thought a little sober reflection would not have gone amiss.

ROBERT: Mamma, let’s try to be positive. Of all of them, Anthony Strallan is the most traditional choice.

VIOLET: Robert…Edith is beginning her life as an old man’s drudge. I should not have thought a large drawing room much compensation.

ROBERT: Why dwell on that now?

VIOLET: Because I want the pleasure of saying, “I told you so.”




Carson and Mrs Patmore follow Mrs Hughes into her sitting room.


CARSON: Now, the moment you feel tired, you’re to tell me, and I’ll take over whatever it is you’re doing.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, will you now?

HUGHES: Are you sure you want to come to the church? You could stay here and have a lie down.

(Mrs Hughes purses her lips, holding in her anger.)

HUGHES: It would be so nice if people would wait to learn if I really am ill before boxing me up.

CARSON: I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know anything about any illness.

HUGHES: Don’t you? I see.

(Carson clears his throat and exits.)

HUGHES: Who told him?

MRS PATMORE: I don’t know. Maybe he just picked it up somehow. Erm, he’s worried about you. He’s a good man.

HUGHES: He’s a hopeless liar.

MRS PATMORE: Well, that’s quite nice really, i'n’t it?

HUGHES: I’ve had a message from the doctor. He’ll have the results tomorrow. I’m to call in the afternoon.

MRS PATMORE: Try not to worry.

HUGHES: I’ll try, but I won’t succeed.

(Mrs Hughes leaves. Mrs Patmore gives a worried sigh before following.)




Mary looks at her appearance in the mirror. Matthew enters and Mary turns to Anna.


MARY: That’s it. I’ll put the hat on later. Go straight to Lady Edith.

(Matthew looks Mary over. He’s already dressed in his mourning coat.)

MATTHEW: You look marvellous.

MARY: I feel marvellous. That is, I feel marvellous because we don’t have to leave Downton. Lavinia did write to her father...

(Matthew’s expression falls.)

MARY: And it was posted from his house. In other words, every word Mr Swire wrote in that letter was true.

(Matthew takes a breath and sinks into a chair to process this news.)

MARY: Daisy posted it. The kitchen maid.


MARY: Do you, my darling? I hope so. Because if you try to find one more excuse not to accept the money, I’ll have to beat you about the head.

MATTHEW: I see. I do have one condition, however.

MARY: Make it a good one.

MATTHEW: Let’s not steal Edith’s thunder. I’ll tell Robert after it’s over and she’s left on honeymoon.

MARY: Now that I can live with.

(Matthew begins to smile. He stands up and they kiss each other on the cheek.)




CORA: You look beautiful.

EDITH: All of us married.

(Edith turns to look at her sisters.)

EDITH: All of us happy.

(Edith looks at Sybil.)

EDITH: And the first baby on the way. Why don’t we get the photographer to take a picture of the three of us…when we get to the church?




Strallan looks pale and nervous as he stands at the altar.


VIOLET: He looks as if he’s waiting for a beating from the headmaster.

REVEREND TRAVIS: Do you think I should reassure him?

VIOLET: How? He’s done it before, so he must be in possession of all the facts.

REVEREND TRAVIS: Perhaps the first Lady Strallan was a difficult act to follow.

VIOLET: Or a difficult one to repeat.




The photographer takes a photo of the sisters together in front of the church. Robert hurries forward, looking at his pocket watch.


ROBERT: Well, fashionably late is one thing.

MARY: We’re going in. Edith, I know we haven’t always got along, and I doubt things change much in the future, but today, I wish you all the luck in the world.

EDITH: Thank you.

(Mary kisses Edith on the cheek and goes inside. Edith takes a quick breath and Anna helps her with her train as she takes her father’s arm.)




Mary and Sybil walk to their pew. Robert hands his hat to an usher inside.


ROBERT: Thank you.

USHER: Very good.


Mary and Sybil take their places and the guests stand at the organ begins to play. Edith and Robert begin to walk down the aisle and Strallan steps up to the altar with a grim look on his face. Cora smiles as Edith passes her. Edith steps up beside him all smiles.


EDITH (whisper): Good afternoon.

SIR ANTHONY (whisper): Good afternoon, my sweet one.

(Strallan gives her a small smile. The guests watch with pleasant smiles. The music stops.)

REVEREND TRAVIS; Dearly beloved, we are gathered…


Strallan looks up at the minister.


SIR ANTHONY: I can’t do this.

(Edith and Robert turn suddenly to Strallan and the guests murmur.)

ROBERT (sharp whisper): What?

(Strallan looks down at Edith.)

SIR ANTHONY: I can’t do it.

(Edith’s smile fades. Strallan looks at Robert.)

SIR ANTHONY: You know it’s wrong. You told me so yourself several times.

ROBERT: My dear chap.

SIR ANTHONY: No. I never should have let it get this far. I should have stopped it long ago. I tried to stop it.

EDITH: What are you saying? I don’t understand what you’re saying.


(Strallan looks at the guests who are staring in shock. Strallan turns back to Edith in a lower voice.)

SIR ANTHONY: Edith, I can’t let you throw away your life like this.

EDITH: What do you mean? We’re so happy, aren’t we?

(Edith takes Strallan’s hand.)

EDITH: We’re going to be...so terribly, terribly happy.

SIR ANTHONY: But you are going to be happy. I pray that you are. But only if you don’t waste yourself on me.

(Edith looks into Strallan's eyes, mortified.)

ROBERT: Anthony, it is too late for this.

REVEREND TRAVIS: Might I suggest we all take a step back?


Violet steps forward to Edith.


VIOLET: No. Let him go. Let him go. You know he’s right.

(Edith looks up at Strallan, her lip trembling.)

VIOLET: Don’t stop him doing the only sensible thing he’s come up with in months.

SIR ANTHONY: Thank you, Lady Grantham.

EDITH: But...Granny...

VIOLET: No, no. It’s over, my dear. Don’t drag it out. Wish him well and let him go.

EDITH: I can’t.

(Edith is becoming more upset by the moment.)

SIR ANTHONY: Goodbye, my dearest darling. And may God bless you. Always.

(Strallan walks back up the aisle and Edith turns to him, but Violet holds her back.)

VIOLET: No. Sweetheart.

(The guests watch him leave. Mrs Hughes and Carson give him dark looks as he passes them. Cora and Violet lead Edith to the side door. The rest of the family reels from the shock, Sybil close to tears.)




Strallan walks quickly away from the church, ghastly pale and very upset. He passes the chauffeurs standing at the car.


CHAUFFEUR: Oh, look lively.




Edith re-enters the house, crying in her wedding gown. Alfred turns around from pouring champagne and sees her retreating figure on the stairs. The rest of the family follows, the sisters going after Edith. Edith throws her veil over the stairs.




Edith walks in and goes straight to the bed to cry. She pulls the laurel tiara out of her hair and flops over on the bed in tears.




Robert, Tom, and Matthew stand in the hall with Alfred.


ROBERT: When everyone gets back, can you clear all this away? I want it gone before Lady Edith comes downstairs, flowers, glasses, everything. And ask the outside staff to help put back the carpet and the furniture.

ALFRED: Yes, milord.




Cora, Mary, and Sybil enter to find Edith crying on the bed.


CORA: Is there anything I could say to make it better?


(Edith sits up and Cora sits next to her on the bed. Edith looks at her sisters.)

EDITH: Look at them. Both with their husbands. Sybil pregnant, Mary probably pregnant. Oh, just go. I mean it, go!

CORA: Perhaps you should go.


The sisters leave. Edith flops back on the bed with a new bout of tears. Cora leans over her and covers her hands with her own.


EDITH: Oh, Mamma.

CORA: You are being tested. And do you know what they say, my darling? Being tested only makes you stronger.

EDITH: I don’t think it’s working with me.

(Edith cries more.)




The servants clear away the champagne, the cake, the flowers, and re-lay the carpet in the great hall.




Robert walks across the grounds just outside the library, hands clasped behind his back, lost in thought. Matthew joins him.


MATTHEW: What should we do now?

ROBERT: There’s nothing we can do, beyond removing all signs of a wedding and holding her hand while she recovers. She will, of course.

(Robert turns to look at the house.)

ROBERT: Meanwhile, it’s time to face the business of leaving Downton. Without the wedding to hide behind, there’s no reason not to get on with it, and astonish the world with the extent of my wretched failure.

MATTHEW: Actually...Mary and I intended to make an announcement...at dinner.

ROBERT: What announcement? What about?

MATTHEW: You don’t have to leave.

(Robert looks at Matthew in confusion.)

MATTHEW: I’ll explain it later, but...I’m going to give you Reggie’s money. I’ll accept it. And I’ll give it to you.

ROBERT: Don’t be silly. You’re not going to give me any money.

MATTHEW: But I am. You don’t want to leave. Nor does Mary. Nor do any of us, for that matter.

ROBERT: I still won’t take your money. What I will allow is for you to invest in the place. If we stay, you’ll share the ownership. It’ll be your house, your estate, as much as mine. We will be joint masters.


ROBERT: And if you won’t agree, I will sell, and it’ll all be your fault.

(Matthew holds his breath for a moment, not entirely sure about the arrangement. Then he exhales with a smile. They shake hands affectionately.)




DAISY: I never thought I’d feel sorry for an earl’s daughter.

ANNA: All God’s creatures have their troubles.

(Anna and Daisy take the wedding food off the serving trays.)

DAISY: Anna?

ANNA: Yes.

DAISY: Do you think it’s right that...women should say what they think? Speak out about romance and everything?

ANNA: Well...things are changing for us, and the vote won’t be long now. So I suppose they must get used to us speaking our minds, but...

DAISY: But what?

ANNA: With most of the men I’ve ever met, if you started to court them, they’d be so terrified, they’d run a mile.

(Alfred enters and grabs something from a tray. He crunches on it as he exits and Daisy watches him with a slight smile. Anna smiles at Daisy knowingly.)




Dinner is very quiet.


ISOBEL: Has she had something to eat?

MARY: Anna took up some sandwiches, but she didn’t touch a thing.

CORA: That reminds me. Carson, I don’t want Lady Edith to see any of the wedding food.

CARSON: Mrs Hughes and Anna are taking what’s left down to Mr Travis tomorrow, my lady, for the poor.

VIOLET: If the poor don’t want it, you can bring it over to me.

(Mary looks up at her grandmother in surprise.)

MATTHEW: How can we help Edith?

ISOBEL: You can help her by finding her something to do.




The wedding delicacies fill the table.


ALFRED: Is this all we’re getting? Just these pickety bits?

THOMAS: Hardly. These are canapés, Alfred. For your first course, some truffled egg on toast, perhaps. Some oysters à la Russe.

ALFRED: Then what?

MRS PATMORE: There’s lobster in the sauce. Or Calvados glazed duckling. Or do you fancy a little asparagus salad with champagne saffron vinaigrette?

HUGHES: When I think how you’ve gone to such pains.

MRS PATMORE: Never mind me. What about the pain of that poor girl upstairs?

O’BRIEN: Jilted at the altar. I don’t think I could stand the shame.

THOMAS: Then it’s lucky no one’s ever asked you, isn’t it?

ANNA: Poor thing. How will she find the strength to hold up her head?

DAISY: I swear, I’d have to run away and hide in a place where no one knew me.

ALFRED: I think she’s well out of it.

MOLESLEY: How can you say that?

ALFRED: I mean it. She’s young, she’s not bad looking. She could do much better than that broken down old crock.

CARSON: Sir Anthony may have betrayed a daughter of this house, but he still does not deserve to be addressed in that manner by a footman.

HUGHES: Oh, I think he does, Mr Carson. Every bit of that. And worse.

CARSON: Well, maybe just this once.

MRS PATMORE: Right. What’s it to be? Lobster, duck, or asparagus?

ALFRED: Is there any cheese, Mrs Patmore?




Anna enters. She picks up Edith’s laurel tiara from the floor. Edith is lying in bed.


ANNA: What would you like me to get you?

EDITH: A different life.

ANNA: Let me bring you up some breakfast.


(Edith sits up.)

EDITH: I’m a useful spinster...good at helping out. That is my role. And spinsters get up for breakfast.




Mrs Hughes buttons her coat. Carson knocks and enters.


CARSON: Going out?

HUGHES: Just into the village. I...have to fetch something.

CARSON: Can I help? I’m going down later.

HUGHES: Thank you. This is an errand I have to do for myself.


Mrs Patmore enters.



HUGHES: As ready as I’ll ever be.

(Mrs Hughes braces herself, takes her purse and Mrs Patmore follows her out. Carson watches them leave with concern.)




Mrs Hughes stands stiffly, staring at the hospital across the street; Mrs Patmore waits next to her.


HUGHES: We can be sure of one thing. I won’t be cured by standing here.

(Mrs Hughes walks forward and Mrs Patmore follows.)




Carson begins preparations for dinner, but he’s distracted. He checks his pocket watch.




Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes wait for the doctor. The nurse opens the door.







Thomas sees O’Brien walking toward him.


THOMAS: Everything all right, Miss O’Brien?

(O’Brien stops entering the kitchen and approaches him.)

O’BRIEN: Oh, yes. Everything’s all right with me. But it’ll be all wrong with you before too long, mark my words.

THOMAS: Oh? And how is that, Miss O’Brien?

O’BRIEN: I don’t know. Not yet. But it will be. You can be sure of it.




Mr Carson walks up to Mrs Patmore, who’s still in her coat and hat.


CARSON: Well? Is it or isn’t it?

MRS PATMORE: It’s not cancer. No. It’s a benign something or other, nothing more.

(Carson sighs with relief, then pauses secretively.)

CARSON: Don’t mention that you’ve said anything. She doesn’t know that I know.

MRS PATMORE: I won’t say a word.


Carson tries to exit stealthily. Mrs Patmore holds in her laughter with a smile. Mrs Hughes tip toes in behind her.


HUGHES: Did you tell him?

MRS PATMORE: I would prefer to say, I put him out of his misery.


The two women grin at each other, silently laughing. Mrs Hughes exits the kitchen. She hears Carson humming. She sees him through the open office door, shining the silver enthusiastically with a cheery song.


CARSON: ♫ Dashing away with a smoothing iron. Dashing away with a smoothing iron. Dashing away with a smoothing iron, she stole my heart away. ♫


End of the episode.

Ecrit par stella

Kikavu ?

Au total, 78 membres ont visionné cet épisode ! Ci-dessous les derniers à l'avoir vu...

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cartegold  (14.04.2019 à 22:28)
Je n'en reviens pas du rebondissement de cet épisode, je ne m attendais pas du tout à ce que Lady Edith se fasse planter comme ça !


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

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