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#305 : Quand le destin frappe

Sybil est sur le point d'accoucher. Une offre intéressante à Edith divise l'opinion de la famille. Isobel lance une bouée de sauvetage à Ethel. La nouvelle femme de chambre, Ivy, attire l'attention à l'étage inférieur. L'intêret d'Alfred se porte particulièrement sur Daisy. Pendant ce temps, la persévérance d'Anna paie. Matthew se préoccupe de la succession de Downton. Mais ses protestations font-ils la sourde oreille?

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3.5 - 4 votes

Titre VO
Episode 5

Titre VF
Quand le destin frappe

Première diffusion
14.10.2012

Première diffusion en France
13.09.2013

Vidéos

Scene

Scene

  

La mort de Sybil (vo)

La mort de Sybil (vo)

  

Violet est attristée (vo)

Violet est attristée (vo)

  

Scènes coupées (vo)

Scènes coupées (vo)

  

Diffusions

Logo de la chaîne TMC

France (inédit)
Vendredi 13.09.2013 à 21:40
0.70m / 3.0% (Part)

Logo de la chaîne ITV

Grande-Bretagne (inédit)
Dimanche 14.10.2012 à 21:00
9.50m

Plus de détails

Captures|Tournage

Réalisateur : Jeremy Webb

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
Amy Nuttall... Ether Parks
Matt Milne... Alfred Nugent
Jason Furnival... Craig
Neil Bell... Durrant
Cara Theobold... Ivy Stuart
Ed Speleers... Jimmy Kent

 

Guests Stars :

Christine Lohr (Mme Bird), Tim Pigott-Smith (Sir Philip Tapsell)

OPENING CREDITS

 

EXT. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

A car drives away, its lights illuminating the façade. The door slams, a man hurries inside, carrying a bag.

 

INT. HALL AND STAIRCASE. DOWNTON. NIGHT

 

We see that the man is Doctor Clarkson, who hurries through the house and up the stairs, his medical bag in hand.

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Cora is in there, with Mary and Edith, all in dressing gowns, while Doctor Clarkson examines Sybil. He seems confident.

 

CLARKSON: The pains have stopped. Nothing will happen yet.

(They all smile)

 

INT. BEDROOM PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Robert, Matthew and Branson are waiting, also in dressing gowns, as the doctor and Cora emerge.

 

CLARKSON: Everything is fine.

ROBERT: You mean it was a false alarm.

CLARKSON: Not exactly. These early labour pains show that the womb is preparing itself for birth.

(Robert looks rather stunned.)

CORA: Doctor Clarkson, I’m afraid Lord Grantham doesn’t enjoy medical detail. The point is, can we all go back to bed?

CLARKSON: You can. And so can I.

MARY: I’ll see you out.

ROBERT: Sir Philip Tapsell will be here tomorrow.

CLARKSON: Of course. If you think it advisable.

(Clearly, this is a slightly touchy subject. He starts for the stairs with Mary. Branson comes after him.)

BRANSON: There really is nothing wrong?

CLARKSON: Nothing at all. She’s a healthy young woman going through a very normal and natural process.

BRANSON: Thank you, Doctor.

 

INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

The servants are having breakfast, waited on by Ivy.

 

IVY: I think I’d rather be in a city if I were having a baby. Where they’ve got all the modern inventions.

ANNA: Far away from everyone you know and trust? I don’t think I would.

MRS PATMORE: What are you talking about having babies for, Ivy? I think we can leave that for a little further down the menu, thank you.

 

She has arrived in the doorway.

 

JIMMY: It’s always an idea to be prepared.

THOMAS: I expect you’re always prepared.

JIMMY: I try to be, Mr Barrow.

CARSON: I don’t like the direction this conversation is taking. Could we all begin the day’s tasks, please? And remember, Lady Sybil is in a delicate condition, so no noise on the gallery.

IVY: It’s exciting, though, isn’t it? To have a baby in the house.

DAISY: It won’t make much difference to you. Now, get back in the kitchen and do as you’re told.

(Her tone is harsh. Ivy leaves. She hands Cora’s tray to O’Brien)

O’BRIEN: Well, I think that message got through.

 

INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Robert, dressed, is talking to Cora, who’s in bed. The door opens and O’Brien appears with the breakfast tray.

 

ROBERT: We can’t risk her welfare to soothe Clarkson’s feelings.

CORA: I know.

ROBERT: I like the old boy. But he did misdiagnose Matthew, and he did miss the warning signs with Lavinia.

CORA: Thank you, O’Brien.

(O’Brien puts her tray on her lap.)

CORA: Is that fair? He didn’t want to get Matthew’s hopes up when it wouldn’t make any difference, and with Lavinia, the disease could move like lightning.

ROBERT: I know, I know. But even so.

CORA: And he’s treated Sybil since she was a girl. Sir Philip Tapsell may have delivered many lords and royal highnesses, but he doesn’t know us.

ROBERT: I’ll ask him to include Clarkson in his deliberations. Will that satisfy you?

CORA: I suppose so. Thank you, O’Brien.

 

INT. KITCHEN STAIRS AND PASSAGE. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

O’Brien is coming downstairs when she sees Jimmy.

 

O’BRIEN: You look a bit puzzled.

JIMMY: I am. Mr Carson’s asked me to wind the clocks.

O’BRIEN: You must be doing well. In this house that marks you out as First Footman more than anything could.

JIMMY: That’s just it. I said ‘thank you’ and ‘right away’, but I know nothing about clocks. Lady Anstruther’s maid always wound them.

O’BRIEN: You’d better ask Mr Barrow.

JIMMY: Do I have to?

O’BRIEN: He’s the clock expert. He used to wind them, but of course it’s quite wrong for a valet to do it. Or a maid. And Mr Carson’s trying to get back to normal.

JIMMY: Mr Barrow won’t mind?

O’BRIEN: Oh, no. I can see he likes you and that’s good. Since he’s got the ear of his lordship.

JIMMY: Yes. I suppose he would have.

O’BRIEN: I’d keep in with him if I were you. Let him think you like him back. He could be a big help.

JIMMY: I will. Thank you.

O’BRIEN: Think nothing of it.

 

INT. MARY’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Anna has brought a breakfast tray for Mary. Matthew is there.

 

MATTHEW: Of course I’m not going to bother him until after the baby’s born.

MARY: But you are determined to shake things up.

MATTHEW: My darling, you want to stay here until you die, and for our children to live here after us. For that to have a chance of happening, I can’t let the whole thing disintegrate.7

(Mary thinks about this. Then she turns to Anna)

MARY: When are you seeing Bates?

ANNA: Three o’clock, m’lady. I’ll be back before you want to change.

MARY: Will you ask why they stopped your visits?

ANNA: I’ll ask Mr Bates. I don’t want to get up the nose of the authorities.8

(She smiles and leaves the room. Matthew nods)

MATTHEW: I’m going downstairs. And I swear not to start on Robert.

MARY: Poor Papa. He’s in such a state about Sybil. All fathers hate to think of any man touching their beloved daughters, and when they have a baby it’s a terrible proof that they have been touched.

MATTHEW: A terrible and a wonderful proof.

(For a moment, it seems that Matthew is going to speak again)

MARY: What?

MATTHEW: Nothing.

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Sybil is in bed. Mary is with her. A nurse fusses around.

 

SYBIL: I’m the size of a house, my back hurts, my ankles are swelling and my head aches. Honestly, I cannot recommend this to anyone.

MARY: I am listening, but of course I’m dying to start one of my own.

SYBIL: So you’re not waiting?

MARY: Waiting for what?

SYBIL: I don’t know. But I did wonder.

(The nurse has gone and they are alone)

SYBIL: Mary, you know what I said about the baby being Catholic? I’ve just realised that the christening will have to be here, at Downton.

MARY: Blimey.

SYBIL: I wanted the whole thing done in Dublin, out of sight, out of mind. But we can’t wait for ever, and we can’t not christen it, poor thing.

MARY: You don’t have to do this. It’s your baby, too.

SYBIL: I don’t mind. I mean, I do believe in God, but all the rest of it — vicars, feast days and deadly sins — I don’t care about all that. I don’t know if a vicar knows any more about God than I do. And I love Tom, so very, very much.

(The nurse comes back in with a look at Mary)

MARY: I’ll let you rest. And don’t worry. I’ll fight your corner with Travis if it comes to it.

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. EVE.

 

Thomas has his hand on Jimmy’s, as they wind the clock.

 

THOMAS: There. You feel a slight increase in the resistance?

JIMMY: I think so.

THOMAS: That’s what you’re watching for. Never go past the point where the clock is comfortable.

JIMMY: You make it sound like a living thing.

THOMAS: Clocks are living things. My dad was a clock-maker. I grew up with clocks. I understand them… Never wind them in the early morning before a room has warmed up, nor too late, when the night air cools them down. Find a time when the family is out of the room.

(Throughout this, he lets his hand rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, until Jimmy is uncomfortable, but someone walks into the room and he removes it. The gong sounds)

THOMAS: There we go. Duty calls.

 

INT. YORK PRISON. VISITING CELL. DAY.

 

Bates and Anna are with other prisoners and their wives. Officer Durrant is supervising. He watches them.

 

ANNA: You should have sent a message.

BATES: But I didn’t know. I’ve only just been given all your letters.

ANNA: But I don’t understand. Why was I kept away from you until now?

BATES: It doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, it’s over. The point is, someone has to question Mrs Bartlett.

ANNA: I still don’t understand.

BATES: You wrote and said she saw Vera on the evening of the day of her death.

ANNA: That’s right. She’d eaten a pudding. She went for a walk. The door was open and she went in.

BATES: And she saw Vera scrubbing pastry from under her nails.

ANNA: I wrote that because it was such a strange detail for her to remember.

BATES: What was she making with pastry?

(Anna is bewildered)

BATES: A pie. She was making the pie that she ate that night, when I was on the train back to Downton.

(Anna gasps. They stare at each other as the penny drops)

ANNA: So Vera planned this. She meant for you to be imprisoned. She meant you to be hanged. For her suicide. It was her revenge.

BATES: And what a revenge. For both of us.

(Anna has a horrible thought)

ANNA: They’ll say you poisoned the milk or the flour or something. To catch her after you’d gone.

BATES: They tested everything in the kitchen. They said it was in the pastry, where I couldn’t have put it.

ANNA: Oh, I hope she’s burning in hell —

BATES: Don’t go down that road. Once you do, there’s no way off it.

 

INT. HALL. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.

 

Mrs Bird opens the door to Ethel.

 

MRS BIRD: You, again.

ETHEL: That’s right, Mrs Bird. I’ve been asked to call on Mrs Crawley.

(Mrs Bird nods brusquely towards the drawing room Door)

MRS BIRD: She’s in there.

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.

 

Isobel Crawley is with Ethel.

 

ETHEL: Oh, I thought there might be news of Charlie… But that’s not why you asked me to come?

ISOBEL: No… I’ve been thinking about you since we last met, and wanted to know how you were living…

ETHEL: I’ve not gone back to… doing what I was doing, if that’s worrying you. I’ve no Charlie to feed, so now if I starve, I starve alone. And I’d rather starve than do that.

ISOBEL: But I know how hard it will be for you to find employment.

ETHEL: They want nothing to do with me. Not when they hear what I am. What I was… And I won’t lie.

ISOBEL: You see, I thought you might work here for a while. Helping Mrs Bird. It would mean that when you moved on you will have had a respectable job, with a respectable reference.

ETHEL: Here?

ISOBEL: Poor Mrs Bird is having to manage everything with one kitchen maid, now Molesley’s gone, and I think she finds it very hard.

ETHEL: Hard or not, she won’t want me.

ISOBEL: Oh, I think she will. When I’ve spoken to her.

ETHEL: Are you sure you’ve thought about this, ma’am? What will Mrs Hughes’s reaction be, or Lady Grantham’s? And old Lady Grantham? Can’t wait to hear what she has to say about it.12

ISOBEL: Don’t you want to come?

ETHEL: It’s not that, ma’am. You’re offering a return to a wholesome world, and I am very, very grateful.

ISOBEL: Well, then.

ETHEL: But I think it’s going to be a lot more complicated than you allow.

ISOBEL: Then we shall have to face those complications together, shan’t we?

 

INT. YORK PRISON. NIGHT.

 

It is lock-up. The prisoners are going back to their cells.

 

DURRANT: You look chirpy, Bates. There’s quite a spring in your step.

BATES: Thank you, Mr Durrant.

(He enters his cell, together with a new prisoner. It is locked. Durrant sees Craig, who is being shepherded by another warder, and goes to him)

DURRANT: I’ll take it from here.

WARDER: Sir.

DURRANT: Bates seems very cheerful.

CRAIG: Is he? He had a visit from his wife earlier. She must have brought him some good news.

DURRANT: Hardly seems fair, does it? You’ve got an extra year on your sentence, I’ve got a formal reprimand, and Mr Bates, who’s done it all, who’s made all the trouble for us, gets good news. What do you think it is?

CRAIG: Well, she can’t be pregnant. He was arrested a year ago.

DURRANT: Well, she might be. But he wouldn’t be very happy about it.

CRAIG: So what do you want to do?

DURRANT: Ooh, that’ll need some thought. But first, what does this good news consist of? When you shared with him, where did he keep his letters?

 

EXT. FARMYARD. DOWNTON ESTATE. DAY.

 

This is a ruinous place. The sheds are open to the elements, the machinery weed-clogged and rusting. Matthew is with Mary.

 

MATTHEW: Quite a few of the cottages have been renovated…

MARY: Thanks to you.

MATTHEW: Maybe a little thanks to me, but many of the farms have been left entirely to their own devices.

(He looks around him)

MATTHEW: Coulter hasn’t farmed this properly for twenty years. He struggles to pay the rent, which is too low, anyway. There’s been no investment.

MARY: Papa would say you can’t abandon people just because they grow old.

MATTHEW: I agree. But it would be cheaper to give him a free cottage and work this land as it should be worked.

MARY: I see. And you don’t think Papa understands that?

MATTHEW: Maybe he harks back to a time when money was abundant and there wasn’t much need to keep on top of it. I think he equates being business-like with being mean or, worse, middle class… Like me.

(He smiles to show he is not hurt, just frustrated)

MATTHEW (CONT’D): But the middle classes have their virtues, and husbandry is one.

MARY: We ought to get back. Sir Philip Thingy’s due on the seven o’clock train, and you ought to be there to hold Tom’s hand.

MATTHEW: Poor fellow. He’s so terrified but so thrilled at the same time. As I would be… As I will be.

(He gives Mary a slightly nervous smile, and they walk away)

 

INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

The family and Violet are with Sir Philip Tapsell, a very grand specialist from London.

 

VIOLET: The dear Duchess of Truro is full of your praises, Sir Philip, but then of course you know that.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: She had quite a time when she was first married. But I said to her, never fear, Duchess, I’ll get a baby out of you one way or another.

(Robert does the nose trick while Carson closes his eyes in disgust)

VIOLET: And so you did.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Three boys and, as a result, a secure dynasty, I am glad to say.

ROBERT: But you see no complications here?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: None at all. Lady Sybil is a perfect model of health and beauty.

CORA: We told our local doctor we’d send a message to him when it looks as if the baby’s coming.

MARY: Doctor Clarkson has known us all since we were girls.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Yes. What’s needed here, Lady Mary, is a knowledge of childbirth, nothing more, but if it soothes you, then of course he is most welcome.

 

INT. KITCHEN STAIRS AND PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Mrs Hughes approaches the stairs, where Thomas talks to Jimmy. The latter is holding a tray of coffee things.

 

JIMMY: How d’you keep your shoes so clean? Is there a trick to it?

THOMAS: I thought you were going to ask how I keep my nose clean. ’Cos I can show you that an’ all.

(He laughs as she draws alongside. Jimmy seems awkward)

MRS HUGHES: Mr Barrow, I hope you’re not keeping James from his duties.

THOMAS: Course not.

(He walks away into the servants’ hall. Mrs Hughes hesitates)

MRS HUGHES: You mustn’t let Mr Barrow take up toomuch of your time, James… Now, get that tray up to Mr Carson.

 

INT. HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

The men come out of the dining room. Anna is lurking in the shadows as Branson starts upstairs.

 

BRANSON: I’m going to check on Sybil.

ROBERT: Anna?

ANNA: I’m sorry to trouble you, m’lord, but I wondered if I might have a word.

ROBERT: Come into the library. Matthew, will you take Sir Philip to the drawing room.

 

He walks away with the maid, leaving the other two alone. Sir Philip waits but Matthew does not move.

 

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Shall we go in?

MATTHEW: As a matter of fact, Sir Philip, I was rather hoping to have you to myself for a moment… Do you know that I was injured during the war?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: I think I did hear something about it from Lady Grantham.

MATTHEW: My spine was very severely bruised, and for a time it seemed I had lost the use of my legs and… everything else.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: But the bruising reduced and you recovered? Yes, I have heard of this. Well… How relieved you must have been.

MATTHEW: Yes. But I wonder now whether the injury might have affected my… I suppose I mean my ‘fertility’. If it might have limited my chances of fathering a child.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Is everything working as it should?

MATTHEW: Oh, yes.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Then why do you think there may be a problem?

MATTHEW: We are anxious to start a family. But we’ve been married for a few months without any… results.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: My dear Mr Crawley, may I point out the word that gives you away? ‘Anxious.’ Anxiety is an enemy to pregnancy. Don’t, whatever you do, feel anxious. Six months is nothing. I know all men spend their youth terrified of making a girl pregnant if they so much as look at her, but I assure you the process is often slow. I can run a test if you wish, but I would urge you not to bother for some time yet.

(But this doesn’t quite answer the question for Matthew)

CORA: There you are. We were wondering what had happened to you.

(She is standing in the doorway. They go to join her)

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Robert is with Anna. He is amazed.

 

ROBERT: This is extraordinary. Why did the police miss it so completely?

ANNA: Mrs Bartlett never spoke to them. She never spoke to anyone.

ROBERT: Except to you.

ANNA: She didn’t think the truth would make any difference now. She thought it was only further proof of his guilt.

ROBERT: The difficulty is she may not want to accept Bates’s innocence.

ANNA: Doesn’t she have to?

ROBERT: Not necessarily. She may think he drove his wife to suicide and deserves to rot in prison. In short, she may not wish to tell the truth to set him free.

(They stare at each other. It makes a kind of horrible sense)

ANNA: Then we need to get a statement from her before she finds out it could overturn the case.

ROBERT: I’ll telephone Murray tonight. He can come up here, and talk to you and see Bates. It might mean using one of your visiting times.

ANNA: Whatever we must do.

ROBERT: You were right, though. The proof was out there and you’ve found it.

 

INT. KITCHENS. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Ivy is scrubbing the central table. Alfred arrives.

 

ALFRED: Why aren’t you in bed?

IVY: I’ve still got this to do, and I’m not tired.

ALFRED: You’ll be tired enough in the morning. That I can promise. Where were you before you came here?

IVY: I was a maid of all work for a shop-keeper’s wife in Malton, but my mum wanted me to better misself, so she put me up for the job here.

ALFRED: And is it better?

IVY: Not as you’d notice. Mrs Mawle was quite nice. But here I’m bossed by Mrs Patmore and bullied by Daisy, and everyone seems to mistake me for a rag to wipe their shoes. What about you?

ALFRED: Hotel trade. But it’s harder than service and the pay’s no better.

MRS PATMORE: What are you doing down here, chatting? You should be in bed.

(She is in the doorway, watching. Alfred nods and goes)

MRS PATMORE: He’s a nice boy. Alfred.

IVY: Is he? Yes, I s’pose he is.

 

INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Robert, Edith and Matthew are at breakfast. Edith is reading a letter. She gasps and the others look up.

 

EDITH: The editor of The Sketch wants me to write for him. He saw my letter to The Times and he wants to give me a regular column.

MATTHEW: How regular? And what about?

EDITH: Once a week. And I can write about whatever I like. It would be the problems faced by a modern woman, rather than the fall of the Ottoman Empire. But even so.

MATTHEW: Will you write under your own name?

EDITH: I hadn’t thought.

ROBERT: You won’t have an option. That’s what he’s buying, that’s what he wants: your name and your title.

MATTHEW: Oh, I don’t know. I thought Edith’s letter to The Times was very interesting…

EDITH: Don’t bother, Matthew. I’m always a failure in this family.

(She stands and leaves. Matthew glances at Robert)

ROBERT: What?

MATTHEW: Lots of people write for the papers and magazines now. The sons and even daughters of people you know.

ROBERT: Mostly drug fiends and sewers.16

MATTHEW: Edith must do something, Robert.

ROBERT: They want to make a fool of her. I can’t allow that. When you’re a father, you’ll understand.

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.

 

Isobel is with Mrs Bird.

 

ISOBEL: I’m sad to hear this, Mrs Bird.

MRS BIRD: And I’m sad to say it, madam. But it’s kept me awake all night, and I know I cannot work alongside a woman of the… a woman who has chosen… that way of life.

ISOBEL: But Miss Parks has changed…

MRS BIRD: Maybe she has and maybe she hasn’t, but if I tolerate her, I will be tarnished by her. Suppose people come to think that I’d followed the same profession as what she has?

ISOBEL: Nobody could look at you and think that, Mrs Bird.

MRS BIRD: Well, I hope not. Because I’m a respectable woman. I may not have much but I have my good name, and I must protect it.

ISOBEL: You shall have a month’s wages in lieu of notice. Where will you go?

MRS BIRD: Back to Manchester and stay with my sister. She says there’s plenty of work for a plain cook these days.

ISOBEL: And they will find one in you. Goodbye Mrs Bird, and good luck.

 

INT. KITCHENS. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Ivy is cleaning a saucepan. Jimmy and Alfred are with her.

 

JIMMY: Is there anything else you need to know about having babies, Ivy?

IVY: Honestly, if I told Mrs Patmore the things you two say to me, you’d be up before Mr Carson.

ALFRED: So, what are you doing with your afternoon off?

IVY: None of your business.

ALFRED: I’d like to make it my business.

(As Jimmy laughs, we see Daisy watching her and the two men)

DAISY: Have you greased the cake tins?

IVY: Yes.

DAISY: What about the pastry?

IVY: It’s in the larder.

DAISY: Then get started on the vegetables for tonight.

(She stalks out. Jimmy whistles)

JIMMY: She doesn’t want much, does she?

IVY: She doesn’t like me.

JIMMY: Why not?

IVY: I don’t know. She just doesn’t.

ALFRED: Well, anyone who doesn’t like you needs their head examining.

IVY: I hope you agree with him, Jimmy.

JIMMY: That’d be telling.

(With a laugh he goes. Mrs Patmore listens in the doorway)

 

INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.

 

Isobel is with Ethel.

 

ISOBEL: I’ll put an advertisement in the local paper…

ETHEL: No, ma’am. Don’t advertise for a cook to come and work with me. Because they won’t stay. Not when they find out.

ISOBEL: They aren’t all like Mrs Bird.

ETHEL: Don’t be angry with her. She had to look after her good name.

ISOBEL: But it’s so small-minded…

ETHEL: Beg your pardon, ma’am, but we’re not like you. If Mrs Bird lost her reputation, she’d have nothing to bargain with. She did what she had to do. Good luck to her.

ISOBEL: Well, what do you suggest?

ETHEL: That I become your cook-housekeeper, ma’am. You say there’s a girl from the village?

ISOBEL: Yes. Meg. She’s rather dozy and she hasn’t been with us long, but I don’t think she’ll cause trouble. She’s here for the morning and then she comes back later to help with dinner and to turn down my bed.

ETHEL: Well, I should say we’re in good shape and all Sir Garnet.

ISOBEL: But can you cook, Ethel?

ETHEL: I’ve been in kitchens all my life.

 

INT. HALL. DOWNTON. EVE.

 

Mary comes in with Edith, both changed, to find Branson alone.

 

MARY: Are we first down? How is Sybil?

BRANSON: Sleeping, thank God. She’s been restless all afternoon. I don’t think it’ll be long now.

MARY: I’m sorry it couldn’t have been in Dublin.

EDITH: We know how much it meant.

BRANSON: Nothing means more than she does.

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

The door opens. Matthew walks in. He goes over to Mary, as Cora and Robert arrive with Edith.

 

MARY: I’ve hardly seen you all day.

MATTHEW: I’ve had another session with the books. It gets worse every time.

MARY: Well, for God’s sake don’t say anything now.

 

Sir Philip and Violet arrive.

 

ROBERT: And you’re sure you have everything you need?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Quite sure.

EDITH: Hello, Granny. Are you here? How nice.

CORA: Your grandmother will be with us every night until the baby’s born.

VIOLET: I hate to get news second-hand.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Well, you won’t have long to wait.

CORA: I thought I’d ring up Doctor Clarkson after we’ve eaten.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Yes, I’ve been talking to Lord Grantham about the good doctor.

ROBERT: Sir Philip feels the room would be too crowded, what with the midwife and the nurses… It might be better to leave old Clarkson out of it, for the time being.

CORA: But I said I’d telephone.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Well, it really isn’t necessary.

CORA: I’ve given him my word.

(Her tone silences the company. Edith takes charge)

EDITH: Why don’t I run down in the car after dinner and fetch him?

(The matter is settled as Carson comes in)

 

INT. KITCHENS. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Ivy is slaving away, when Daisy pulls a saucepan off the stove and dumps it on the table. Alfred is waiting.

 

DAISY: The hollandaise for the fish. Put it in the sauce boats for Alfred. I’m doing the soufflés.

IVY: As soon as I…

DAISY: Will you just do it!

(She hurries away. Alfred steps in and takes up the pot)

ALFRED: Out of my way. Quick!

IVY: What you doing?

(He puts the sauce on the stove, waits for a while, then takes it off and puts it back on the table. Daisy comes back in)

DAISY: Haven’t you done it? Oh, my God!

ALFRED: What’s happened?

DAISY: It’s curdled, and it’s got to go up in a minute! Oh, my Lord!

ALFRED: Ivy can manage it. Don’t worry. Go on with what you’re doing.

DAISY: Can you really?

(Behind her head, Alfred nods)

IVY: I can.

(Daisy hurries out. Ivy turns, terrified, to Alfred)

IVY: Now what?

ALFRED: Give me an egg. Quickly. Dribble it in.

IVY: But it’s ruined.

ALFRED: Do what I say.

(She does, amazed by what is happening)

IVY: How does that work? It’s magic.

ALFRED: One of the tricks of the trade.

(Ivy puts the sauce into the sauce boats as Daisy comes back)

DAISY: How’ve you done that?

IVY: Just… one of the tricks of the trade.

DAISY: Well, go on. Take it up.

 

Alfred winks at Ivy and goes. Mrs Patmore steps out.

 

MRS PATMORE: Well done, Ivy. You played a good one, there. Thank her, Daisy.

DAISY: Yes. Thank you.

(Ivy nods and carries some dirty pots away to the scullery)

MRS PATMORE: That didn’t hurt at all, did it? I’ll tell you what, Daisy. Alfred won’t like you any better for being rough on her.

(She goes before Daisy can reply)

 

INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Jimmy carries in a plate of fish. Alfred has the sauce.

 

ALFRED: I should have the fish.

JIMMY: I’ll do it.

ROBERT: By the way, Murray will be here in the morning. There’s been a development in Bates’s case.

MARY: A good development?

ROBERT: I think so. But that’s all I want to say at this stage.

(Conversation is obviously limping at the table. Cora speaks for them all)

CORA: There’s nothing more tiring than waiting for something to happen.

MATTHEW: Edith, have you written back to your editor, yet?

VIOLET: What’s this?

MATTHEW: Edith has had an invitation to write a newspaper column.

VIOLET: And when may she expect an offer to appear on the London stage?

EDITH: See?

(She shrugs at Matthew as the door opens and a nurse comes in. Branson jumps up)

BRANSON: Oh, God. Is it beginning?

 

INT. KITCHENS AND PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Jimmy walks in while Mrs Patmore and the rest of the kitchen staff are hard at work.

 

JIMMY: Dinner’s suspended, so to speak.

MRS PATMORE: Yes, but suspended, cancelled, or suspended, keeping it hot? And what should I do about dinner down here?

JIMMY: I couldn’t tell you.

(He walks away towards the servants’ hall when Thomas appears)

JIMMY: Looks as if the baby’s coming. So I suppose it’s all hands to the pump.

THOMAS: An unfortunate choice of phrase.

(He laughs and rests his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, lightly stroking his cheek. Mrs Hughes comes round the corner. Thomas withdraws his hand and goes. Jimmy speaks nervously)

JIMMY: Mrs Hughes…

MRS HUGHES: What is it? Because I’m very busy.

JIMMY: It can wait.

(He moves off and Mrs Hughes continues to the kitchen)

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Clarkson is with Violet, Robert, Cora, Sir Philip, Matthew and Mary.

 

ROBERT: What do you mean, ‘concerned’?

CLARKSON: Lady Sybil’s ankles are swollen and she seems… muddled.

CORA: What sort of muddled?

CLARKSON: Not quite there. Not quite in the present moment.

MARY: And what do you think it means?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: It means she’s having a baby… A word, Doctor Clarkson?

CLARKSON: Excuse me.

 

The two men leave the room. The others look at each other.

 

CORA: Sir Philip mustn’t bully him into silence.

ROBERT: My dear, this is just Clarkson’s professional pride. Like barbers asking, ‘Who last cut your hair?’ They always want to be better than any other practitioner.

MATTHEW: But we must listen to what he has to say.

VIOLET: I quite agree.

ROBERT: I don’t want to hurt Sir Philip’s feelings.

VIOLET: If there’s one thing that I am quite indifferent to, it’s Sir Philip Tapsell’s feelings.

 

INT. HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

The two doctors are hissing at each other.

 

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: You are upsetting these people for no reason at all…

CLARKSON: I am not. I think she may be toxaemic, with a danger of eclampsia, in which case we must act fast.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: There is no danger, whatsoever. Judging by my experience, Lady Sybil is behaving perfectly normally.

CLARKSON: Do you not find the baby small?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Not unusually so.

CLARKSON: And the ankles?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Maybe she has thick ankles. Lots of women do.

CLARKSON: But she does not.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: I warn you, Doctor. If you wish to remain, you must be silent. I cannot allow you to interfere.

 

INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. NIGHT.

 

Ethel stirs a mixture in a bowl, when she has a thought…

ETHEL: Oh, Christmas!

(She runs to the oven, opens it and takes out a smoking dish)

ETHEL: Oh, don’t be burned! Don’t be burned!

(But the cloth is too thin and with a scream she drops it. She runs to find an implement and with the cloth scrapes the mixture of burned offerings off the floor back into the dish. She mixes the dirty bits into the bowl when the door opens)

ISOBEL: Are you all right, Ethel? Only I heard a shout…?

ETHEL: Fine, ma’am. Everything’s fine.

(Isobel looks into the mixing bowl. She looks at Ethel)

ETHEL: It’s a kidney soufflé, ma’am.

ISOBEL: A kidney soufflé? Isn’t that a bit adventurous?

ETHEL: I’ve seen Mrs Patmore do it a hundred times.

ISOBEL: Yes, but she can’t have begun her career as a cook by making a… kidney soufflé.

ETHEL: Shall I try something else, ma’am?

ISOBEL: No. If we’re to avoid a midnight feast, it’s too late to turn back.

ETHEL: Is there any news from the house?

ISOBEL: Not yet. But it can’t be long now.

 

INT. DINING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. NIGHT.

 

Isobel, with a book propped open, looks at the food Ethel has just put down in front of her.

 

ETHEL: I’m sorry it’s a bit late. I’ve not quite got used to that stove yet.

ISOBEL: No.

ETHEL: It will get better. If I could have a bit of time before you entertain.

ISOBEL: Yes.

ETHEL: Now, I’ve had a go at an apple pie for afters…

ISOBEL: Let’s keep it simple, Ethel. I’d be quite happy with some cheese.

ETHEL: Very good, ma’am. I take it Mr Matthew hasn’t telephoned?

ISOBEL: No. And I worry. But I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.

(She goes, leaving Isobel poking at the thing on her plate)

 

INT. PASSAGE/SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Anna has just come downstairs, to find Carson.

 

CARSON: Is everything all right?

ANNA: I’m not sure. I think so. I’ve just come to fetch some warm milk in case she fancies it.

(She walks off, passing Molesley, who carries a letter)

MOLESLEY: Mr Carson. I’m glad I’ve caught you. I’ve had a letter from Mrs Bird, who used to work for Mrs Crawley.

CARSON: I didn’t know she’d gone.

MOLESLEY: Well, that’s the point.

 

INT. HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Cora comes out of the library to find Clarkson in a chair.

 

CORA: You don’t have to wait out here.

CLARKSON: I’m trying to find the nerve to go upstairs. Sir Philip is quite a formidable opponent.

CORA: If there is something you want to say, then please say it.

CLARKSON: I will, because we must act quickly. But I have no wish to alarm you.

CORA: You have failed in that, as I am already alarmed, so tell me.

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Branson sits by the bed, holding his wife’s hand.

 

BRANSON: I’ve been thinking about what we should do. You know I’ve a brother in Liverpool and there might be an opening there. It’d mean working with cars again…

SYBIL: No. We’re not going backwards. You must promise me that.

(Before he can, she has another contraction)

BRANSON: God. I wish there was something I could do.

SYBIL: Just be here. You don’t have to talk, you know… We can just lie back and look at the stars.

(This is an odd thing to say. Branson looks around)

BRANSON: Is she…?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: It’s all just as it should be.

(The door opens and Anna comes in with the milk, followed by Cora and Clarkson. Sir Philip rolls his eyes)

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Now what?

CLARKSON: I want to test the latest sample of her urine.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Oh, for heaven’s sake…

CORA: Just give the order to the nurse, please, Sir Philip.

(Clarkson walks over to the bed)

CLARKSON: How’s the young mother doing?

SYBIL: Am I on duty, Doctor Clarkson?

CLARKSON: What?

SYBIL: Only, I swear I’m not on duty, otherwise I wouldn’t be lying here.

CLARKSON: No. No, you’re not on duty.

 

INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. NIGHT.

 

Molesley, Mrs Hughes and Carson are together.

 

CARSON: Mrs Crawley has hired a prostitute to manage her house?

MOLESLEY: And that’s why Mrs Bird felt she had no choice but to hand in her notice.

CARSON: Nor did she, poor woman.

MRS HUGHES: But Mr Carson, this is Ethel we’re talking about. Our Ethel. And Mrs Crawley was just trying to give her a helping hand. Is that so wrong?

CARSON: I do not criticise her for her charity, but she hasn’t considered her actions. No respectable person, certainly no respectable woman, can now be seen entering her house.

MRS HUGHES: But Ethel’s given all that up…

CARSON: I didn’t think she was running a brothel in Mrs Crawley’s kitchen!

MRS HUGHES: Doesn’t it make a difference?

CARSON: Before you accuse me of hypocrisy and cant, I ask you this: would you invite an exprostitute to come here? To live and work alongside the other maids?

(Mrs Hughes is unable to say that she would)

CARSON: Right. Thank you. So, the question is, what should we do about it?

MRS HUGHES: Can’t we say nothing for now? Mrs Bird’s gone and I doubt Mrs Crawley can find someone to replace her…

CARSON: I should hope not.

MRS HUGHES: I don’t remember Ethel as any great cook, so it may sort itself out.

CARSON: Very well. We shall keep silent for the moment. But I don’t want the maids going into that house on any pretext whatsoever. Is that clear?

MOLESLEY: Quite clear, Mr Carson.

CARSON: Or the footmen.

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

There is a row in progress here, too. Branson is not present.

 

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: I’m sorry, but I find this interference unprofessional and verging on insolent…

CLARKSON: Insolent! May I remind you I have known this young woman since she learned to walk, while you first met her… what? A month ago? Two?

ROBERT: Gentlemen, please! Must we fall out?

CLARKSON: It’s my belief that Lady Sybil is at risk of eclampsia…

ROBERT: What is that?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: A rare condition from which she is not suffering!

CORA: Tell him why you think she may be.

CLARKSON: Her baby is small, her ankles are swollen, she’s confused and there is far too much albumin, that is protein, in her urine…

ROBERT: Doctor Clarkson, please! Have you forgotten my mother is present?

VIOLET: Peace. A woman of my age can face reality far better than most men.

CLARKSON: Look, the fact remains, if I am right, we must act at once!

MARY: And do what?

CLARKSON: Get her down to the hospital and deliver the child by caesarean section.

MATTHEW: But is that safe?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: It is the opposite of safe! It would expose mother and child to untold dangers! She could pick up any kind of infection in a public hospital!

CLARKSON: An immediate delivery is the only chance of avoiding the fits that are brought on by the trauma of natural birth. It may not work, but…

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Honesty at last! Even if she were at risk from eclampsia, which she is not, a caesarean is a gamble, which might kill either or both of them!

 

Robert is in agony. At last he looks at his wife.

 

ROBERT: I think we must support Sir Philip in this.

MARY: But it’s not our decision! What does Tom say?

ROBERT: Tom has not hired Sir Philip. He is not master here, and I will not put Sybil at risk on a whim. If you are sure, Sir Philip?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: I am quite, quite certain.

CORA: You’re being ridiculous. Obviously, we have to talk to Tom.

(Robert is shocked. He looks at his mother for support)

VIOLET: Don’t look at me. Cora is right. The decision lies with the chauffeur.

 

INT. KITCHEN PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Anna is on her way downstairs. Mrs Hughes sees her.

 

MRS HUGHES: How are things going?

ANNA: I’m not sure. The doctors are arguing, and that’s never a good sign.

(Carson has heard Anna’s voice and now he appears)

CARSON: Is everything all right?

MRS HUGHES: Unfortunately, it seems it is not.

 

INT. BEDROOM PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Branson is with the doctors, Robert and everyone else.

 

BRANSON: Could we get her to the hospital?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: To move her now would be tantamount to murder.

CLARKSON: Sir Philip, admit it. You are beginning to detect the symptoms yourself. You can see her distress.

CORA: Can you?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Yes, Lady Sybil is in distress. She’s about to give birth.

CLARKSON: Lord Grantham, Mr Branson, time is running out. We should be at the hospital by now. If we’d acted at once, the baby would be born.

BRANSON: But if she has the operation now, do you swear you can save her?

CLARKSON: I cannot swear it, no. But if we do not operate and if I am right about her condition, then she will die.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: If, if, if, if! Lord Grantham, can you please take command?

ROBERT: Tom, Doctor Clarkson is not sure he can save her. Sir Philip is certain he can bring her through it with a living child. Isn’t a certainty stronger than a doubt?

CORA: Robert, I don’t mean to insult Sir Philip, but Doctor Clarkson knows Sybil. He’s known her all her life!

BRANSON: So you’d take her to the hospital?

CORA: I would have taken her an hour ago!

(Sybil screams)

BRANSON: God help us.

(A nurse opens the door. Branson runs into the room and the others follow, while a worried Robert and Matthew remain. Clarkson looks at the others)

CLARKSON: I’m afraid we’ve left it too long.

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. NIGHT.

 

Isobel is writing as Ethel brings in a hot drink on a tray.

 

ETHEL: Any news from the house, ma’am?

ISOBEL: Not yet. Matthew said he would try and telephone if it’s not too late.

ETHEL: Lady Sybil was always kind to me.

ISOBEL: Yes, she’s a very dear girl. What… What’s in this?

ETHEL: Some honey. Was that not right?

ISOBEL: It’s perfectly fine for now, Ethel. But perhaps not another time.

 

INT. KITCHENS/PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Ivy is finishing up. The two footmen are there.

 

ALFRED: But if you want to be a cook, does that mean you’ll never marry?

IVY: Why should it?

JIMMY: None of the cooks in the important houses are married.

IVY: Then why are they all called ‘Mrs’?

JIMMY: It’s the title for the job.

IVY: I like the sound of that.

DAISY: Don’t you two ever get bored with clogging up the kitchen?

(She is standing in the doorway)

IVY: I’ve finished now, honest.

DAISY: Then go to bed.

MRS PATMORE: No. Run along to the servants’ hall. I’ll make some cocoa.

(The three young ones do as they are told. Mrs Patmore talks as she gets out the milk and puts it on to heat)

MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): There’s quite a few will stay up till we know the baby’s safe.

DAISY: I s’pose.

MRS PATMORE: Daisy, there’s nothing wrong with one-sided loving. You should know that if anyone does… It’s not Alfred’s fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not Ivy’s fault.

DAISY: But the way she flirts…

MRS PATMORE: She’s young and she’s away from home. Anyway, I don’t believe she’s any more successful than you are.

DAISY: No? When Alfred follows her round with a face like a Bassett hound?

MRS PATMORE: Who says she cares about Alfred?

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Violet, Branson, Robert and Matthew are together.

 

ROBERT: Would you like anything, Mama?

VIOLET: Oh, no. Just good news of the baby and a car to take me home. I don’t suppose I shall get either before long.

ROBERT: What about you, Tom?

BRANSON: I just feel so helpless.

MATTHEW: We men are always helpless when a baby’s in the picture.

(Mary opens the door, smiling. They jump to their feet)

MARY: You can come up. It’s a girl.

BRANSON: And they’re both…?

MARY: They’re fine.

VIOLET: Oh, thank God and hallelujah.

(Branson pushes past her and runs to the stairs)

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Sybil, tired, has been tidied up. She holds the baby. Cora is in there with Edith, Mary and Sir Philip. Branson clasps her hand.

 

SYBIL: Have you seen her?

BRANSON: She’s so beautiful. Oh, my darling. I do love you so much.

SYBIL: I just want to sleep, really.

CORA: Of course you do. You’ve earned it. She’s a wonderful baby. Well done.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: I think we should let her sleep.

(A nurse steps forward to take the child as Branson goes, shaking Sir Philip’s hand on the way)

SIR PHILP TAPSELL: Well done.

BRANSON: Thank you.

SYBIL: Mama.

CORA: Yes, my darling?

(Cora returns to her chair by the bed. Sybil lowers her voice)

SYBIL: Tom is thinking of getting a job in Liverpool, going back to being a mechanic. But it wouldn’t be right for him. He needs to move forward.

CORA: We’ll talk about it tomorrow. We don’t need to worry about it now.

SYBIL: I think Papa may see it as some kind of answer. And if he —

CORA: Your father loves you very much.

SYBIL: I know. I know. And I love him terribly, but will you help me do battle for Tom and the baby if the time comes?

CORA: Of course.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Lady Grantham?

CORA: Now sleep, darling.

(Cora kisses her finger, lays it on Sybil’s lips and stands)

 

INT. BEDROOM PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Clarkson is outside with Branson, Robert and Matthew when Cora comes out with Sir Philip. Robert smiles at his wife and they kiss.

 

ROBERT: All’s well that ends well.

CORA: I’m sorry we doubted.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: As to that, Lady Grantham, it’s always a good idea to forget most of what was said during the waiting time, and simply enjoy the result.

MARY: Is there anything more to be done?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Not really. The nurse will stay with her, and so I suggest we all get some sleep and meet again, refreshed, in the morning.

ROBERT: What about you, Doctor Clarkson?

EDITH: Shall I run you home? I don’t mind.

CLARKSON: No. If it’s all right, I’d like to stay up for a while longer. Just to make sure everything is well.

 

Sir Philip rolls his eyes at Robert.

 

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: There’s no reason to.

CLARKSON: I’d like it.

CORA: Then I shall ask them to make you comfortable.

 

INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Most of them are still up, drinking cocoa. O’Brien watches Thomas with Jimmy.

 

THOMAS: Show us a card trick, Jimmy.

(Carson arrives)

CARSON: That’s it. The baby is born. It’s a girl. Now you can all go to bed.

(Thomas and Jimmy stand)

THOMAS: Good news.

JIMMY: Do you like Lady Sybil?

THOMAS: I do. We worked together in the hospital during the war, so I know her better than all of them, really. She’s a lovely person. Like you.

(He drops his voice and takes Jimmy’s shoulder, sliding his hand down the younger man’s arm. He breaks away and walks off. Jimmy is disturbed. O’Brien is watching him)

O’BRIEN: Anything the matter?

JIMMY: No… No… But Mr Barrow’s so… familiar all the time, isn’t he?

O’BRIEN: I’m glad to hear it. That’s a very good sign. If he’s taken to you, he’ll definitely put in a good word with his lordship.

JIMMY: ’Cos I’d like to tell him to keep his distance.

O’BRIEN: Do you want to get your marching orders, then? Why? What are you implying? Nothing unseemly, I hope.

JIMMY: No. No. Nothing like that. G’night.

(O’Brien watches the troubled young man walk away. And smiles)

 

INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Mary runs into the room. She shakes her sleeping mother.

 

MARY: Mama, Mama! Wake up and come quickly! It’s Sybil!

(Now Robert is awake. He and Cora share a terrified glance)

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

When Mary hurries in, Sybil is pouring with sweat and tossing about. Branson, in pyjamas, is trying to calm her. Matthew is silent, standing with Edith. Clarkson is still dressed and Sir Philip is in a dressing gown, his hand over his mouth, as the nurses also look on.

 

SYBIL: I should be… I should be getting up! I should be up!

BRANSON: Darling? Can you hear me, darling? It’s Tom!

SYBIL: I’m needed on the wards! I’m a nurse! I should be — help — busy! Help! I have to get back to the wards!

BRANSON: No, darling. All you need to do is rest.

MARY: Sybil…

SYBIL: My head… My head… hurts so! It’s splitting!

MARY: Sybil… Let me bathe your forehead.

SYBIL: It hurts so! It hurts so!

(Mary kneels but Sybil won’t lie still. She’s going into a fit)

BRANSON: Oh God, oh God. God, God — no! No!

(Now Cora comes running in, followed by Robert)

ROBERT: What’s happening? What the hell is happening? Sir Philip?

MARY: Sybil? She can’t hear me. Sybil? Sybil? It’s Mary. Can you hear me?

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: It looks as if… I’m afraid it very much looks as if…

CORA: It looks as if what!

CLARKSON: This is eclampsia.

 

Sybil is threshing around wildly while Branson and Mary try to calm her. She’s choking now, as she flings out her arms, spilling flowers, water jugs and everything else. As the doctors and Robert talk, we hear the others in the background, Branson, Mary, Matthew, Edith desperately trying to help. ‘Shall I fetch some water?’ ‘Open the window!’ ‘Darling, please! Wake up! It’s me! It’s me!’ ‘Listen to me, my darling! Just breathe! That’s all. Breathe!’ And so on…

 

ROBERT: But it cannot be? Sir Philip? You were so sure.

MATTHEW: Somebody do something!

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: Human life is unpredictable.

ROBERT: But you were so sure!

CORA: What can we do?

BRANSON: Help her! Help her! Please… Oh God, no.

EDITH: Dr Clarkson, should we take her to the hospital? Shall I get the car?

(She has broken away from the others, desperate to help. But the doctors both know what will happen next)

CLARKSON: There is nothing that can be done.

MATTHEW: That’s not possible! Not now, not these days!

CLARKSON: Once the seizures have started, there’s nothing to be done.

ROBERT: But you don’t agree with him, do you, Sir Philip? Of course there’s something!

(Even for him, the time has come to stop lying)

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: I’m very sorry.

BRANSON: Please don’t leave me. Help her! Help her, please! What’s happening?

MARY: She can’t breathe.

BRANSON: Please, please. Just breathe. Oh, God. Oh, no. Wake up, my darling! Wake up! I beg you to wake up!

ROBERT: There has to be something worth trying at least!

BRANSON: Come on, come on, breathe, love. Listen, it’s me, my darling. All you have to do is breathe, right now.

SIR PHILIP TAPSELL: We’ve given her morphine, and atropine…

 

Cora and Branson are by Sybil now, both of them frantic, shaking Sybil and imploring her to wake up.

 

BRANSON: Please breathe, love.

CORA: Oh, please…

MARY: She can’t breathe.

BRANSON: Please, love. Please wake up. Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please wake up, love. Please don’t leave me. Please, love.

(But Sybil does not wake up. The fight and the struggle is over and she is at peace. Clarkson checks for her pulse. Robert is in a complete daze)

ROBERT: But this can’t be. She’s twenty-four years old. This cannot be.

(Cora holds her daughter, tears pouring down her cheeks. Matthew, Mary and Edith stand, struck dumb. A nurse opens the door and the room is filled with the sound of a baby crying. Branson covers his face with Sybil’s hand and continues to cry)

 

INT. SERVANTS’ HALL/KITCHEN PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

A group of stunned faces, all the servants in dressing gowns, old and young, stare at Carson, who has finished speaking.

 

DAISY: Is there anything we should do, Mr Carson?

CARSON: Carry on, Daisy. As we all must.

 

He walks out, leaving them to their thoughts. Daisy walks towards Mrs Hughes and breaks down in her arms. Anna notices Thomas slip out into the passage. Silently, she rises and follows. She finds him in tears.

 

ANNA: Thomas?

THOMAS: I don’t know why I’m crying, really. She wouldn’t have noticed if I’d died.

ANNA: You don’t mean that.

THOMAS: No. No, I don’t. In my life, I can tell you, not many have been kind to me. She was one of the few.

 

She hugs him. Mrs Hughes walks by and they straighten up.

 

MRS HUGHES: Oh. Don’t mind me. The sweetest spirit under this roof is gone, and I’m weeping myself.

(She walks on, past Carson’s room. He stands there)

MRS HUGHES: Are you all right, Mr Carson?

(He looks up and there are tears in his eyes, too)

CARSON: I knew her all her life, you see. I’ve known her since she was born.

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.

 

Cora is alone by the bed. Everything is tidy and neat, and a candle burns on the table. She strokes Sybil’s hand.

 

CORA: We’ll look after them. We’ll look after them both. Don’t you worry about that.

(The door opens and Mary appears)

MARY: It’s time to go to bed, Mama. You’ll need some rest to face tomorrow.

CORA: Not just yet. This is my chance to say goodbye to my baby. You go. I’ll be all right. I promise.

MARY: I could stay… Or would you prefer to be alone?

CORA: Alone, I think. But thank you.

(Mary retreats to the door)

CORA: And Mary, could you ask your father to sleep in the dressing room tonight?

(Mary hesitates, then she nods and goes out, closing the door)

CORA: Because you are my baby, you know. And you always will be. Always. My beauty and my baby.

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.

 

It is morning. Isobel is with Ethel.

 

ISOBEL: No. I can’t believe it, either. But I’m afraid we must… I’ll go up there later and see if there’s something I can do.

ETHEL: But what can anyone do?

ISOBEL: We can pray, I suppose. But that’s about all. We just have to pray.

 

EXT. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

A taxi arrives at the house and Murray gets out.

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Matthew is with Murray.

 

MATTHEW: I’ve asked Carson to bring Anna here, Mr Murray, but I don’t think it’ll be possible for you to see Lord Grantham. Not today. I’m sure you understand.

MURRAY: Of course. I should have guessed there was something wrong when there was no car at the station. What a dreadful, dreadful thing.

MATTHEW: It seems unbelievable in this day and age. Quite unbelievable.

 

The door opens and Carson ushers in Anna. Matthew stands.

 

MATTHEW: I’ll leave you to it… Mr Murray, I wonder if I might have a word with you before you go. It’s not the best day for it, but there’s no knowing when you might be up here again.

MURRAY: Of course, Mr Crawley.

 

Matthew leaves with Carson. Murray nods to Anna.

 

MURRAY: I am very sorry to trouble you on a day like this, Mrs Bates.

ANNA: You weren’t to know. None of us could have known.

MURRAY: Please, sit down, and tell me what it is you think you’ve discovered.

ANNA: It doesn’t seem right. Not today.

MURRAY: Please try.

ANNA: I’m not quite sure where to start.

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Branson is sitting by the bed. He holds Sybil’s hand. Across the room, Mary also sits, keeping vigil. Edith comes in.

 

EDITH: The men from Grassby’s have arrived.

BRANSON: To take her away.

MARY: Yes. And we must let them.

(Mary comes to the bed and kisses Sybil’s still face)

MARY (CONT’D): Goodbye, my darling.

(Edith kisses Sybil on the forehead, too)

MARY (CONT’D): She was the only person living who always thought you and I were such nice people.

EDITH: Oh, Mary. Do you think we might get along a little better in the future?

MARY: I doubt it, but since this is the last time we three will all be together in this life, let’s love each other now, as sisters should.

(She hugs Edith and takes a deep breath. The sisters turn to Branson, who gazes out the window)

MARY (CONT’D): Can I tell them to come up?

(Branson nods but does not move as the sisters leave together)

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Anna is with Murray.

 

ANNA: You see, what I have discovered is quite simple, Mr Murray. It’s proof of my husband’s innocence.

MURRAY: That seems a good place to start.

ANNA: Yes. But the key to his innocence depends on the word of a woman who hates him, and may want him to stay in prison, whatever the truth.

MURRAY: Why not tell me everything you know?

 

INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Branson walks from the window to the bed and sits on it, taking Sybil’s hand as the tears come once again.

 

INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Matthew is with Murray.

 

MATTHEW: Of course, this isn’t the right time, but you’re here, and it’s not a subject for the telephone.

MURRAY: No. But I must confess to you, Mr Crawley, that even at this sad hour your words are music to my ears. Testing times are coming for these estates. Indeed, they’ve already arrived, and many great families will go to the wall over the next few years. It’s never been more vitally important to maximise the assets of a place like this, and run it with a solid business head.

MARY: What are you talking about?

(She has comes in without their noticing. Matthew is silent)

MURRAY: Mr Crawley and I were discussing the management of the estate. He was outlining some interesting plans for the future.

MARY: And do you intend to involve my father in these fascinating plans?

MURRAY: Of course.

MARY: Then I cannot think this a very appropriate moment to be deciding the destiny of Downton, Mr Murray, when my sister’s body has just been removed from the house and my father is quite unable to see or speak to anyone.

(The two men understand that she is extremely indignant)

MURRAY: I’m really only here to talk to Mrs Bates about her new evidence. Naturally, if I’d known…

MARY: No, no. That’s quite different. None of us would wish to keep Bates in prison for an hour longer than necessary. Shall I fetch her?

MURRAY: I’ve already seen her. Now I’m on my way to York. To visit Bates and learn what he has to say about it.

MARY: Then thank you so much for coming all this way.

MURRAY: Lady Mary, please tell your parents how very sorry I am.

MARY: Of course.

 

The door opens and Alfred stands there.

 

MARY: Mr Murray is just leaving.

(Murray accepts this, takes up his briefcase and goes)

MATTHEW: I’m sorry, darling. Forgive me. I wasn’t thinking. It’s just… Murray was in the house…

MARY: Papa has lost his youngest daughter. I think that’s enough. Or does he have to lose control of his estate on the same day?

 

INT. MRS HUGHES’S SITTING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Mrs Hughes is with Carson and Mrs Patmore.

 

MRS HUGHES: Mrs Rose, in the village, has just had a baby and she’s volunteered to nurse the child.

CARSON: Good. I suppose she’ll stay here?

MRS HUGHES: Not for long. The Doctor’s sent up a pamphlet on feeding babies with something called the ‘percentage method’. Boiled milk, water, honey, orange juice… That kind of thing.

MRS PATMORE: I’ll take care of it.

CARSON: We don’t want to add to your work.

MRS PATMORE: I don’t mind. I’m glad to do it. She wasn’t much more than a baby, herself, poor love. When I think how I taught her to cook. She couldn’t boil an egg when she came downstairs, but yet she was so eager…

MRS HUGHES: I’m sure she was very grateful.

CARSON: I’ll go up and tell them the child will be taken care of. I wonder how her ladyship’s coping. And of course there’s Branson. What will we do about him now?

MRS HUGHES: We will show him that we are kind people, Mr Carson. That’s what.

 

INT. VISITING CELL. YORK PRISON. DAY.

 

Murray is opposite Bates.

 

MURRAY: I agree the challenge is to get a statement from Mrs Bartlett before she realises its significance.

BATES: That’s it… I can’t stop thinking about Lady Sybil. A lovely young woman, at the height of her happiness. If I had any beliefs, that would shake them.

(A bell rings. The prison warder, Durrant, calls out)

DURRANT: Make your way out now!

MURRAY: I’ll keep you informed, Mr Bates. I’ll do my very best for you.

BATES: Thank you, Mr Murray.

(The visitors stand and start to leave. Craig watches Murray and Bates with Durrant)

DURRANT: I s’pose that’s his lawyer.

CRAIG: Lord Grantham’s lawyer, more like.

DURRANT: I don’t care if he’s lawyer to the Prince of Wales. He’ll get a shock when he contacts Mrs Audrey Bartlett.

 

EXT. FRONT DOOR. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Alfred walks forward and opens the door to Violet, in black.

 

INT. FRONT DOOR. DOWNTON. DAY

 

Alfred closes the door behind Violet, who approaches Carson.

 

VIOLET: Oh, Carson.

CARSON: Good afternoon, m’lady.

VIOLET: We’ve seen some troubles, you and I. Nothing worse than this.

CARSON: Nothing could be worse than this, m’lady.

(She nods and, uncharacteristically, pats his arm. Crossing the hall, she stops and almost sags, her shoulders shaking, and she holds onto the wall for support. She takes out a handkerchief and dabs her eyes. But then, as Carson watches, she lifts her veil and straightens up again, as stiff as a ramrod, and walks on into the drawing room)

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

Cora is staring into the fire as Violet comes in. Robert, Mary, Matthew, Isobel and Edith are with her. They are all in mourning. Robert stands.

 

ROBERT: Ah, Mama.

VIOLET: Oh, my dears.

ROBERT: You’ll be glad to know they’ve found a nurse for the baby. She is already here.

VIOLET: Good. Good. Where — Where’s Tom?

EDITH: He’s upstairs. I’ve asked if he wants anything. He says no.

CORA: He wants his wife back. But that’s what he can’t have. I must write to Doctor Clarkson and have it sent down before dinner.

ROBERT: Darling, there’s no need for that.

CORA: I should. I want to. I have to apologise for our behaviour.

MARY: What? Why?

CORA: Because if we’d listened to him Sybil might still be alive. But Sir Philip and your father knew better, and now she’s dead.

 

She leaves, closing the door behind her.

 

VIOLET: Why… Why did she say that?

ROBERT: Because there is some truth in it.

VIOLET: My dear, when tragedies strike we try to find someone to blame, and in the absence of a suitable candidate we usually blame ourselves. You are not to blame. No one is to blame. Our darling Sybil has died during childbirth, like too many women before her. And all we can do now is cherish her memory and her child.

(But Robert only stares out of the window, in silence for a moment, before he speaks)

ROBERT: Nevertheless, there is truth in it.

 

EXT. DOWNTON. DAY.

 

From a window on the first floor, Branson looks down. In his arms he holds his newborn, motherless child.

 

End of the episode

Ecrit par Stella,
basé sur le script officiel

Kikavu ?

Au total, 47 membres ont visionné cet épisode ! Ci-dessous les derniers à l'avoir vu...

Dawsey400 
10.09.2018 vers 21h

albi2302 
09.04.2018 vers 21h

vampire141 
10.02.2018 vers 22h

pretty31 
07.01.2018 vers 17h

SandyD 
15.12.2017 vers 17h

Shilow 
25.05.2017 vers 16h

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pretty31  (06.01.2018 à 22:59)

Mon dieu... 

Je n'en reviens pas que Sybil soit morte...

Cet épisode a été un véritable ascenseur émotionnel... :(

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