OPENING CREDITS
EXT. DOWNTON. DAY
Mourners are leaving, some in chauffeured cars, some workers and villagers on foot, farmers in horsedrawn traps. The male gentry are in black morning coats and top hats, but some of the others wear suits with black arm bands. Robert is there, thanking the guests.
INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY
Matthew is with Branson.
MATTHEW: I know we all sound like parrots, Tom, but I really would like to help if I can. So would Mary.
BRANSON: I’ve a baby I can’t look after, no job, no money. I’m exiled from my country, and my wife is dead. I’m past help, but thank you.
(The rest of the family are assembled. Robert enters)
ROBERT: The Southesks looked for you to say goodbye…
CORA: I was here.
(But her voice is heavy with sorrow. Isobel stands)
ISOBEL: I hope you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do. Anything at all.
MARY: Thank you.
VIOLET: I’ll come with you. Save him getting the car out twice.
ROBERT: You’re both very welcome to stay for some dinner.
VIOLET: I don’t think so. Grief makes one so terribly tired.
(She squeezes Robert’s hand and pats Cora’s shoulder)
VIOLET: Goodbye, my dear. Now that it’s over, try to get some rest.
(Violet kisses Mary and Edith, and then she and Isobel leave. Cora looks up)
CORA: Is it over? When one loses a child, is it ever really over?
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL/PASSAGE. DOWNTON. DAY
The servants are having tea. Carson looks in.
CARSON: Is the dining room clear?
ALFRED: It is, Mr Carson. I must say, the funeral gave them a good appetite.
(Two of the maids giggle)
CARSON: And what, may I ask, is so funny?
ANNA: It’s all right, Mr Carson. They didn’t mean any harm.
(She turns to the young newcomers)
ANNA: We were all very fond of Lady Sybil, you see. We got to know her so much better during the war, and now we’re very sad at the loss.
CARSON: If you want to do well at Downton, you should know these things without being told.
(He turns away. Mrs Hughes is in the passage. He goes to her)
CARSON: I ask you. In the old days, their mothers used to train them, at least in the basics. Now they arrive knowing nothing.
MRS HUGHES: Perhaps their mothers don’t want them in service any more.
CARSON: And what are they supposed to do? Become bankers and lawyers?
MRS HUGHES: And why not, Mr Carson? Why not?
Back in the Servants’ Hall, Jimmy is sitting by Thomas.
ALFRED: Cheer up, Mr Barrow. A long face won’t solve anything.
ANNA: Leave him alone. He knew Lady Sybil better than any of us.
THOMAS: Except you. We were the two who really knew her.
JIMMY: I’d say your grief speaks well for her.
THOMAS: Thank you for that.
(He puts his hand over Jimmy’s and squeezes it)
THOMAS: Thank you for saying that.
(Jimmy allows himself a slight grimace to Anna)
INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. NIGHT
Isobel has removed her hat but has not changed. The door opens and Ethel comes in with a tray.
ETHEL: Are you sure you wouldn’t like this laid in the dining room, ma’am?
ISOBEL: No, thank you. I’d like to eat quickly and have an early night.
ETHEL: How was the service?
ISOBEL: Oh, quite nicely done. But you know how it is when you bury someone young. It’s hard to find any cause for celebration.
ETHEL: I feel for her ladyship. When you lose your child… There’s nothing worse under the sun.
ISOBEL: No. There’s nothing worse.
(Isobel thinks for a moment)
ISOBEL: I was wondering if I might try to take her out of herself. Perhaps give a little lunch party. Nothing formal. Just Lady Grantham and the girls…
ETHEL: And I could cook something special.
(This reminds Isobel of the problem. She sips the soup on the tray. It is disgusting. She recoils slightly from the spoon)
ISOBEL: Well, we don’t have to decide that now.
INT. MARY’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT
Anna is getting Mary ready for bed.
MARY: But I don’t understand why they haven’t let him out.
ANNA: Mr Murray hasn’t been to see Mrs Bartlett yet, and when he does, she may not want to repeat the things she said to me.
MARY: Well, she must be made to repeat them.
ANNA: Even then, would we have enough to overturn the verdict? How can we prove she was cooking that pie and not something else?
MARY: Because something else would have been found. It had to be the pie.
(She smiles at Anna’s anguished face)
MARY: Look, I’m not saying it’ll all be done by Tuesday. But this is the moment we’ve been waiting for. What’s the matter?
(Anna is crying, but she shakes her head)
ANNA: It’s so nice of you to say ‘we’.
MARY: I mean it. We need some good news in this house, Anna, and this is it. This must be it.
(Two of them give each other a hug)
INT. CORA’S BEDROOM/PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT
Cora lies on her pillows. She holds a book, but she does not read. The door opens and Robert enters. He hesitates.
ROBERT: I thought I might move back in here tonight. If you’ll have me.
CORA: Not yet. I think I’d rather sleep alone for a while yet.
ROBERT: Well, if you’re sure…
CORA: I’m sure.
(He starts to leave, but then he stops)
ROBERT: Cora…
CORA: Let’s not go through it all again.
ROBERT: But I’m not arguing. You listened to Clarkson, and so should I have done. But Tapsell has a reputation as an expert…
CORA: And you believed him. When Doctor Clarkson knew Sybil’s history and he did not. You believed Tapsell because he’s knighted and fashionable and has a practice in Harley Street… You let all that nonsense weigh against saving our daughter’s life. Which is what I find so very hard to forgive.
ROBERT: Do you think I miss her any less than you?
CORA: I should think you miss her more, since you blocked the last chance we had to prevent her death.
ROBERT: I’ll say goodnight, then.
CORA: Goodnight.
(He goes and she is left alone. Outside in the passage, Robert closes the door, wipes his eyes quickly and walks away)
INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY
Robert, Matthew and Edith are having breakfast.
EDITH: How is Mama?
(Robert looks at her)
EDITH: I’ll go up after breakfast.
Branson comes in. There is a silence until Edith speaks.
EDITH: I hope you got some sleep.
BRANSON: Some. Thank you.
MATTHEW: How is the baby doing?
BRANSON: I envy her. She doesn’t know a thing about it.
EDITH: We ought to think about getting a nurse. Mrs Rose will leave once the baby’s weaned. Perhaps a local girl…
BRANSON: But I’m not staying. Or at least, just until I find a job.
(This is clearly something they hadn’t thought about)
EDITH: Well, there’s no rush.
MATTHEW: God, no.
ROBERT: Tom’s right. He has to start to make a life for himself some time.
EDITH: Some time, yes. But not right away. And anyway, now that the funeral’s over, we ought to think about the Christening. Do you know what you’d like her to be called?
BRANSON: I’d like to call her Sybil.
MATTHEW: Of course.
ROBERT: You don’t think it might be a little painful?
BRANSON: Very painful, at first. But I think it’s right. I want to remember her mother whenever I look at her.
EDITH: Of course you do. And she would want to be remembered. I’ll go and see Mr Travis this afternoon.
BRANSON: Why Mr Travis?
EDITH: To fix the date.
BRANSON: But Sybil will be Catholic.
ROBERT: What?
BRANSON: My daughter is Irish and she’ll be Catholic. Like her father.
(Robert is about to explode but he catches Edith’s eye. She shakes her head. He stands abruptly)
ROBERT: It’s time I started my morning.
(He walks out, leaving the others slightly stunned)
EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY
Mrs Patmore is strolling through the village with a basket.
ETHEL: Mrs Patmore!
(The cook stops and looks about. There is Ethel, standing with her own basket. Mrs Patmore doesn’t quite know what to do)
MRS PATMORE: Oh… Ethel.
ETHEL: Mrs Patmore, I wonder if I could ask for your advice.
MRS PATMORE: Well, I…
ETHEL: I suppose you know I’m working for Mrs Crawley now? At Crawley House?
MRS PATMORE: I had heard.
ETHEL: She’s been ever so kind to me, and I’d hate her to suffer for it.
(Mrs Patmore doesn’t know where this is going)
ETHEL: You see, she’s hired me as cookhouse keeper, but, to be honest, my cooking’s a little rusty.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, yes?
ETHEL: She’s giving a lunch party, to help her ladyship in her sorrow. I know she’ll tell me to keep it simple, but I’d like to surprise her with something really nice.
MRS PATMORE: Our ladyship?
ETHEL: Mrs Crawley wants to show sympathy. I know you don’t want to stop her.
MRS PATMORE: Of course not.
ETHEL: So might you help me prepare a few dishes? You just tell me how to make them. I’ll do the work. Please.
MRS PATMORE: Look. I don’t mean to be rude or personal, Ethel, but Mr Carson has made it very clear…
ETHEL: That no one from the house is to have any dealings with me?
(Mrs Patmore confirms this with her silence)
ETHEL: But surely you’re not afraid I’ll corrupt you, are you?
MRS PATMORE: I am not.
ETHEL: Then why should Mrs Crawley be punished for showing me kindness?
EXT. EXERCISE YARD. YORK PRISON. DAY
Bates is walking around with other prisoners. He passes Officer Durrant.
DURRANT: You don’t look as optimistic as you did, Bates. Something wrong?
BATES: Not that I’m aware of, Mr Durrant.
DURRANT: Really? You seem downcast.
(The prisoner Craig has seen this exchange and comes over)
DURRANT: I wondered if some scheme to improve your lot had gone awry.
BATES: If you know of something that might suggest my fortunes have taken a turn for the worse, Officer, perhaps you’d be kind enough to share it with me.
DURRANT: Am I kind enough to share it with him,
Craig? No. I don’t think I am.
EXT. DOWNTON. DAY
Mary is reading when Robert approaches.
ROBERT: Did you hear about Branson’s announcement at breakfast?
MARY: I wish you’d call him Tom.
ROBERT: He wants the child to be a left-footer.
MARY: Papa, I know it’s hard for you —
ROBERT: There hasn’t been a Catholic Crawley since the Reformation.
MARY: She isn’t a Crawley; she’s a Branson.
ROBERT: The only chance that child will have of achieving anything in life is because of the blood of her mother.
MARY: Well, I don’t agree. And besides, Sybil…
ROBERT: That’s another thing. I think it’s ghoulish to call her after Sybil.
MARY: Well, I don’t.
ROBERT: I’m going to see Travis. Get him to come and talk to… Tom. Try and make him see sense.
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY
Daisy folds away a letter and smiles.
ANNA: Good news?
DAISY: Mr Mason wants me to go and see him. On my afternoon off.
JIMMY: Who’s Mr Mason?
ANNA: Daisy’s father-in-law.
JIMMY: What does he do? This Mr Mason?
DAISY: He’s a farmer.
ALFRED: That’s a grand life.
JIMMY: Do you think so? Too much getting up early for me. I’m a town man.
IVY: ‘As I stroll down Pic-Piccadilly in the bright morning air?’
JIMMY: That’s me.
(She has been flirting with him, which he doesn’t mind. Mrs Patmore has observed it all from the door)
MRS PATMORE: Ivy? Are you feeling all right?
IVY: Yes. Why?
MRS PATMORE: You look a bit flushed.
DAISY: You don’t mind if I visit Mr Mason tomorrow, do you?
MRS PATMORE: Not if you finish your work today.
(Ivy is still flirting with Jimmy)
IVY: I’d love to go to London one day.
JIMMY: Then you’ll have to save up for a ticket, won’t you?
(This makes Thomas laugh. He stares at Ivy, disdainfully)
THOMAS: You have a lot of time off.
MRS PATMORE: Not as much as she thinks. Come on,
Ivy. Chop chop.
(Jimmy looks up and Thomas winks at him)
INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY
Isobel is with Ethel.
ISOBEL: No, there’s no need to cook. Just fetch some ham from Mr Bakewell, and make a light salad. You can’t go wrong with that, and Lady Grantham won’t want more.
ETHEL: I’d like to make a bit of an effort. To show our sympathies.
ISOBEL: It’s a nice idea, Ethel. But I’d like to keep it safe. I’ll walk up to the house later.
INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWER HOUSE. DAY
Violet, in black, is having tea with Robert.
VIOLET: What is your plan for the child?
ROBERT: What do you mean?
VIOLET: Well, if Branson takes her away to live with him in Liverpool, or wherever he comes to rest, then presumably it will be his influence that governs her upbringing.
ROBERT: I hadn’t thought about that.
VIOLET: Then I suggest you do, and soon. What does Cora say?
ROBERT: Not much… Not much to me, anyway.
VIOLET: She still holds you responsible?
ROBERT: She’s wretchedly unhappy, if that’s what you mean.
VIOLET: I will not criticise a mother who grieves for her daughter.
ROBERT: I think she’s grieving for her marriage, as well as for Sybil.
VIOLET: Robert, people like us are never unhappily married.
ROBERT: What do we do if we are?
VIOLET: Well, in those moments, a couple is ‘unable to see as much of each other as they would like’.
ROBERT: You think I should go away?
VIOLET: Or Cora could go to New York to see that woman. It can help to gain a little distance.
ROBERT: I can’t seem to think straight. About any of it.
VIOLET: My dearest boy, there is no test on earth greater than the one you have been put to. I do not speak much of the heart, since it’s seldom helpful to do so, but I know well enough the pain when it is broken.
ROBERT: Thank you, Mama.
VIOLET: Which won’t answer what we are to do about the child.
ROBERT: I’ve asked Travis to dinner. I thought he could talk to Branson.
VIOLET: We shall see. I cannot say I have much faith in Mr Travis’s powers of persuasion.
INT. KITCHENS. DOWNTON. DAY
Daisy and Ivy are working. The footmen are lounging about.
DAISY: Don’t you two have any work to do?
JIMMY: We’re cleaning silver later, but Mr Carson told us to wait for him.
IVY: I wouldn’t mind your hours… What’s the matter?
ALFRED: You look very…
IVY: Very what?
ALFRED: I don’t know exactly.
DAISY: Stop gabbing, Ivy, and remember you’ve my work to do tomorrow as well as your own.
JIMMY: Are you off to see the rich farmer?
DAISY: Whatever he makes, he earns it.
ALFRED: Oh, it’d be nice to be your own boss.
DAISY: No farmer’s his own boss. He takes his orders from the sun and the snow and the wind and the rain.
Mrs Patmore comes in. She is dressed to go out.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, I see. Is this the new servants’ hall? What have they done with the old one, I wonder?
(The others accept their dismissal and go. Mrs Patmore is checking a book against some sheets of paper. Ivy watches)
MRS PATMORE: What are you staring at?
IVY: A cat can look at a king.
MRS PATMORE: But not at a cook. Now get on with whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll be back before the gong.
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY
The footmen come in to find O’Brien sorting buttons. Thomas is in there, gluing a leather sole.
O’BRIEN: What are you doing?
THOMAS: Sticking it together. It’s coming away but there’s no wear in it.
O’BRIEN: I think Mr Dobson’s gone off. We should find a new cobbler. What are you two up to?
ALFRED: We’re waiting for Mr Carson.
O’BRIEN: You’ve been bothering young Ivy. Or she’s been bothering you.
JIMMY: That’s more like it.
ALFRED: Speak for yourself.
O’BRIEN: Don’t you like Ivy?
JIMMY: Oh, I don’t mind her, but she’s not my type.
(O’Brien sees Thomas listening. She smiles, encouragingly)
THOMAS: What type’s that, then?
(Jimmy laughs, just as Carson looks in)
CARSON: Why are you here, and why isn’t the pantry table set out for cleaning?
INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY
Mrs Patmore walks in and takes out the sheets of paper. Ethel is with her.
MRS PATMORE: I don’t know what I’m doing here.
ETHEL: You’re here because you’re kind.
MRS PATMORE: Am I? Right. I’ve written down some receipts. They’re not complicated but I want you to study them. This is a list of what you’ll need. I’ll come in on Thursday morning and see how you’re getting on.
ETHEL: Can I really do it? Salmon mousse?
MRS PATMORE: Anyone who has use of their limbs can make a salmon mousse.
ETHEL: Lamb Chops Portmanteau’d? I don’t know…
MRS PATMORE: Surely you can cut up a bit of chicken liver and some parsley?
(Ethel looks at her)
MRS PATMORE: Oh, why not just serve ’em bread and cheese then, and have done with it?
ETHEL: You’re right. I’ll give it a go.
INT. HALL/LIBRARY. DOWNTON. EVE
Isobel has just arrived.
ISOBEL: Please tell Lady Grantham I’m here.
CARSON: She’s in the library, ma’am.
ISOBEL: How is she? How is everyone?
CARSON: This is a house of mourning, Mrs Crawley. It will be for some time.
INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. EVE
Cora, in a black evening dress, looks up as Isobel enters.
ISOBEL: Forgive me for barging in, but I have a little plan… Oh, goodness. You’ve changed. It’s much later than I realised.
ISOBEL: Well, I was wondering if you and the girls might come to me for luncheon on Thursday.
VIOLET: Do I count as one of the girls?
(Isobel had not seen her, half hidden by a wing chair)
ISOBEL: Of course.
CORA: You’re very kind, but I’m not really going out at the moment.
ISOBEL: There’ll be no one else there, only me. And a walk to the village might blow some cobwebs away.
CORA: I’m afraid I would only bring my troubles with me.
The door opens and Mary and Matthew come in.
MATTHEW: Hello, Mother. What brings you here?
VIOLET: She’s just invited Cora and Edith and Mary to come to luncheon on Thursday.
MARY: Oh, how kind. Thank you.
VIOLET: That settles it.
Robert arrives with Edith.
ROBERT: Isobel? Have you come for dinner?
ISOBEL: Oh, no. I’m dressed quite wrongly, and I know you have a guest.
VIOLET: I doubt Mr Travis has much of an eye for fashion.
MARY: Oh, do stay. We need cheering up.
CARSON: The Reverend Mr Travis.
(He is at the door. Travis walks in. He goes first to Cora)
TRAVIS: Lady Grantham, let me first say that I continue to bear the deepest condolences for your great sorrow.
(Cora starts to cry and Violet rolls her eyes)
INT. KITCHENS. DOWNTON. NIGHT
The footmen collect the pudding. Jimmy lifts the tray.
IVY: Can you manage?
JIMMY: Course I can.
IVY: Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your manhood.
(The two young men look at each other and laugh)
MRS PATMORE: She didn’t mean that, either. Now get on.
ALFRED: Are you looking forward to your outing with Mr Mason?
DAISY: I am. It’s a lovely place.
IVY: You should go with her.
ALFRED: Or I could come out with you.
MRS PATMORE: You know the trouble with you lot? You’re all in love with the wrong people. Now take those upstairs.
As Jimmy walks past Thomas…
THOMAS: Are you in love with the wrong person?
MRS PATMORE: That’s for him to know and you to find out.
(Jimmy has walked off down the passage. Thomas murmurs)
THOMAS: I will find out.
INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT
The atmosphere is awkward.
TRAVIS: But isn’t there something rather un-English about the Roman Church?
BRANSON: Since I am an Irishman, that’s not likely to bother me.
TRAVIS: I cannot feel bells and incense and all the rest of that pagan folderol is pleasing to God.
BRANSON: I see. So is He not pleased by the population of France? Or Italy?
TRAVIS: Not as pleased as He is by the worship of the Anglicans, no.
EDITH: South America? Portugal? Have they missed the mark, too?
TRAVIS: I do not mean to sound harsh. I’m sure there are many individuals from those lands who please Him.
MARY: And the Russians? And the Spanish?
TRAVIS: There must be many good Spaniards.
MATTHEW: And we haven’t even started on the non- Christians. There’s the whole Indian sub-continent to begin with.
ISOBEL: And the British Empire. Does He approve of that?
TRAVIS: If you mean does He approve of the expansion of the Christian message, then yes, I think He does.
ROBERT: And so do I. Poor Mr Travis. You’re all ganging up on him.
MARY: Well, you and Granny are ganging up against Tom.
VIOLET: Not me. The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk is a dear friend, and she’s more Catholic than the Pope.
ROBERT: I simply do not think that it would help the baby to be baptised into a different tribe from this one.
BRANSON: She will be baptised into my tribe.
ROBERT: Am I the only one to stand up for Sybil? What about her wishes?
MARY: Sybil would be happy for the child to be a Catholic.
ROBERT: How do you make that out?
MARY: Because she said so. To me. On the day she died.
BRANSON: Did she? Oh, God, did she, really?
ROBERT: I’m flabbergasted.
CORA: You’re always flabbergasted by the unconventional.
ROBERT: But in a family like this one…
CORA: Not everyone chooses their religion to satisfy Debrett’s.
(Naturally, this silences the table. Violet glances at Robert)
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT
The servants are eating dinner.
CARSON: I’ve no great wish to persecute Catholics, but I find it hard to believe they’re loyal to the Crown.
MRS HUGHES: Well, it’ll be a relief for them to know you no longer want them burned at the stake.
JIMMY: I don’t believe in orthodoxy.
O’BRIEN: That’s a long word.
JIMMY: A man can choose to be different without it making him a traitor.
THOMAS: I agree.
(He finds Jimmy’s observation encouraging)
ANNA: I don’t like discussing religion. We’ll only fall out, and surely it’s our private business.
MRS HUGHES: Amen.
ALFRED: It’s funny though, isn’t it? All that Latin and smelly smoke and men in black dresses. I’m glad I’m Church of England, me.
THOMAS: Really. And what do you feel about transubstantiation?
ALFRED: You what?
CARSON: Never mind, Alfred. Your heart’s in the right place, and I can’t say that for everyone under this roof.
INT. MARY’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT
Mary and Matthew are in bed together, lit by the moon.
MATTHEW: When Sybil was talking about the baby being a Catholic, did you get the sense that she knew?
MARY: I’m not sure. Not at the time, but of course I’ve asked myself since.
MATTHEW: You’d think we’d be used to young death, after four years of war.
MARY: That’s why we must never take anything for granted.
MATTHEW: Which is what I’m trying to get Robert to see. He wasn’t given Downton by God’s decree. We have to work if we want to keep it.
MARY: But not only Downton. Us. We must never take us for granted. Who knows what’s coming?
MATTHEW: Well, I have to take one thing for granted, that I will love you until the last breath leaves my body.
MARY: Oh, my darling. Me, too. Me, too.
EXT. MRS BARTLETT’S HOUSE. LONDON. DAY
Murray walks along the street and knocks on the door.
INT. MRS BARTLETT’S HOUSE. LONDON. DAY
Murray is with Mrs Bartlett.
MURRAY: But this is quite different from the story you told before.
MRS BARTLETT: I don’t think it is.
MURRAY: I’m afraid so. You said you went to Mrs Bates’s house after you’d eaten your evening meal, whatever you choose to call it, and that she was in the process of cooking hers…
MRS BARTLETT: Well, I had just eaten when I saw her, that’s true, but it was dinner at midday. Mr Bates was going to call on her that afternoon.
MURRAY: But you described how the light from the gas lamps caught the rain, and made a kind of halo round her.
MRS BARTLETT: That sounds rather fanciful for me.
MURRAY: So you do not remember saying it?
MRS BARTLETT: I don’t remember, because I never said it.
MURRAY: I see… As a matter of interest, why did you let me come here today, if nothing you could say would alter the verdict?
MRS BARTLETT: I thought it was time you saw how real people live.
INT. KITCHENS. DOWNTON. DAY
Ivy is humming as she works, doing the odd dance step. Jimmy’s eating an apple. Alfred watches from the door.
ALFRED: Where’s Daisy?
IVY: Gone off to play the milkmaid.
ALFRED: Do you like dancing?
JIMMY: ’Course she likes dancing. Everyone likes dancing.
IVY: I love the foxtrot, don’t you?
JIMMY: It’s all right.
IVY: What about you, Alfred?
JIMMY: Alfred wouldn’t do the foxtrot, would you, Alfred? He takes himself too seriously for that.
IVY: Well, I love it. I think it makes you glad to be young.
(Alfred cannot answer before Mrs Patmore returns)
EXT. MASON’S FARM. DAY
Daisy walks through the busy farmyard towards the house.
INT. MASON’S FARM. DAY
Mason is serving Daisy with another lavish tea. But she can’t eat because of what she has just heard.
DAISY: Me? Run this farm? Are you serious?
MASON: Not right away, but eventually.
DAISY: But… I’m a cook.
MASON: And you think there’s no cooking on a farm? You could do a cracking trade. With jams and jellies and cake and all sorts. You could sell them at the fairs.
DAISY: But I’m a woman.
MASON: Are you? Well, I never knew that!
(He laughs. This is definitely his plan)
MASON: There are widows who take on a tenancy and you’re liked in the big house. They’ll not refuse you. I own the equipment, all the stock and I’ve quite a bit put by. It’s hard work, but you’re used to that.
DAISY: I can’t answer now.
MASON: No, of course not! But think on it. And think on this an’ all. My dream would be if you were to come here and live with me. So I could teach you.
DAISY: But I always thought I’d spend my life in service.
MASON: You have forty years of working ahead of you. Do you think these great houses like Downton Abbey are going to go on, just as they are, for another forty years? Because I don’t.
(All these notions are difficult for her to take in)
MASON: How’s that young man you were talking about? Did you ever tell him how you feel?
DAISY: No… I thought he might like me, but I were wrong. He’s keener on someone else.
MASON: Then he’s a fool and not worth bothering with. He’s seen a diamond and he’s chosen glass.
INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWER HOUSE. DAY
Clarkson enters.
CLARKSON: You wanted to speak to me, Lady Grantham.
VIOLET: Yes. On a melancholy matter, I’m afraid. Please.
(Violet beckons for Clarkson to sit, and he does)
CLARKSON: How can I help?
VIOLET: I want to talk a little more about the death of my granddaughter.
CLARKSON: A terrible, terrible tragedy.
VIOLET: But now I am concerned beyond that.
CLARKSON: Oh. Are you worried for the child?
VIOLET: No, not especially. No. She seems quite a tough little thing.
CLARKSON: Are you fond of babies?
VIOLET: Of course.
CLARKSON: What’s your favourite age?
VIOLET: About sixteen.
CLARKSON: So, how can I help?
VIOLET: Doctor Clarkson, my daughter-in-law is quite convinced you could have saved Sybil had you been allowed to.
CLARKSON: Well… One can never speak of these things with any certainty.
VIOLET: Well, this is the point. What was the likelihood of Sybil’s survival?
CLARKSON: Had we operated? She might have lived. There are cases where an early caesarean saved the mother after pre-eclampsia.
VIOLET: How many cases?
CLARKSON: Not many, I admit. I’d need to do some research.
VIOLET: Then can you do it?
CLARKSON: It was the way Sir Philip set his face against any…
VIOLET: Sir Philip Tapsell is a vain and tiresome man. We won’t quarrel over him.
CLARKSON: So why will we quarrel?
VIOLET: Possibly because I want you to tell Lord and Lady Grantham what you have almost admitted to me.
CLARKSON: But there was a chance…
VIOLET: Doctor Clarkson. You have created a division between my son and his wife, when the only way they can conceivably bear their grief is if they face it together.
CLARKSON: So you want me to lie to them and say there was no chance at all?
VIOLET: ‘Lie’ is so unmusical a word. I want you to review the evidence, honestly and without bias.
CLARKSON: Even to ease suffering, I could never justify telling an outright lie.
(Violet looks at him coldly)
VIOLET: Have we nothing in common?
EXT. FARMLAND. DOWNTON. DAY
Matthew is walking with Branson. He points as he speaks.
MATTHEW: This is the farm I’d like to take back in hand. It’s badly run, and it makes no sense to manage it separately.
BRANSON: What about the tenant?
MATTHEW: We’d look after him.
BRANSON: He’s growing barley and wheat; I’d say he’d do better with sheep.
MATTHEW: Exactly. We’d merge the grazing… How do you know that?
BRANSON: How do you? After spending all your growing years in Manchester.
MATTHEW: I’ve been on a steep learning curve since arriving at Downton.
BRANSON: My grandfather was a tenant farmer in Galway, with black-faced sheep.
MATTHEW: So there’s a country boy inside the revolutionary.
BRANSON: Not much of one.
MATTHEW: You must hate it here.
BRANSON: No, I don’t hate it. But I don’t belong here, either. Lord Grantham tries to put up with me, but now Sybil’s gone he cannot understand why there’s a chauffeur at his table.
MATTHEW: What will you do?
BRANSON: I’ve thought of Liverpool. There may be something for me there.
MATTHEW: And the baby?
BRANSON: I’ll hire a woman or get a cousin over to take care of her. I don’t know. But what else can I do?
MATTHEW: You could leave her here.
BRANSON: No. I’ll not be separated from her. She’s all I have left of her mother.
INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY
Mrs Patmore is putting on her coat. Ethel is with her.
MRS PATMORE: Right. You know what you’re doing?
ETHEL: I think so. Yes.
MRS PATMORE: Use an alarm clock to remind you when to put things in the oven and when to take them out.
ETHEL: I will.
MRS PATMORE: You’ve done well, Ethel. Maybe you’ve also done yourself a favour.
ETHEL: I’m very grateful.
EXT. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY
Mrs Patmore walks through the gate and away, just as Carson comes out of the Post Office. He is shocked by what he sees.
INT. YORK PRISON. VISITING ROOM. DAY
Murray is with Bates and Anna.
BATES: I expected her to deny everything. The moment she realised her testimony would release me.
ANNA: You know she did say every word of it?
MURRAY: Of course. But I’m afraid someone tipped her off before I went to see her.
BATES: I think I know who.
(Bates looks up at Officer Durrant, who stands nearby)
MURRAY: The question remains as to what we do next. I wonder what Mrs Bartlett is thinking at this moment.
ANNA: That she’s glad Mr Bates is still in prison.
MURRAY: I’m not sure. It’s a big thing for a woman like that to lie to a lawyer. To flout the law.
BATES: They would have bribed her to do it. Or frightened her.
MURRAY: Well, we cannot offer a bribe. But perhaps we can try to persuade her. Into returning to the path of truth.
BATES: Let me see what I can do.
ANNA: Nothing foolish. You mustn’t do anything stupid. Promise me.
BATES: Leave it with me, Mr Murray.
INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY
Isobel comes in to where Ethel is working.
ISOBEL: I don’t understand. I can smell cooking.
ETHEL: It’s quite simple, ma’am. You’ll be pleased, I promise. I’ve had help.
ISOBEL: And I suppose there’s no ham and there’s no salad?
(Ethel’s silence confirms this. The front doorbell rings)
ISOBEL: If this luncheon is a failure, Ethel, I shall hold you responsible.
INT. MRS HUGHES’S SITTING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY
Carson and Mrs Hughes wait for Mrs Patmore, who comes in.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, but I had to send up the luncheon.
MRS HUGHES: It’s good of you to spare the time.
MRS PATMORE: It’s all right. I’ve only the men to cook for today and they’re easy.
CARSON: What were you doing at Crawley House this morning?
MRS PATMORE: Who says I was at Crawley House?
CARSON: I saw you coming out.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, I see. Well, Mrs Crawley was giving a luncheon party and I…
CARSON: And you were helping Ethel.
MRS PATMORE: I suppose I was.
CARSON: Against my strict instructions to give the place a wide berth.
MRS HUGHES: Now, Mr Carson, no one disputes your position as head of this household, but I’m not sure that you’re entitled to dress down Mrs Patmore in this way…
CARSON: Of course, if Mrs Patmore wants to spend her time frolicking with prostitutes…
MRS PATMORE: Do I look like a frolicker?
CARSON: May I ask who was expected at this precious luncheon?
MRS PATMORE: Her ladyship, the young ladies and the Dowager.
(This is much, much worse than Carson had thought)
CARSON: You have allowed a woman of the streets to wait at table on members of our family?
MRS HUGHES: They may be your family, Mr Carson. They’re not mine.
CARSON: Oh… I am speechless.
(He stalks out of the room)
MRS HUGHES: I would guess he won’t stay speechless for long.
INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY
Robert, Matthew and Branson are having lunch. They’re alone.
MATTHEW: I really need to spend a day with the agent. To talk it through.
ROBERT: Jarvis has a lot on his plate.
MATTHEW: Yes, of course, but I want to…
ROBERT: Must we discuss this now? It’s very boring for Tom.
BRANSON: I don’t…
MATTHEW: Tom is your son-in-law, and his daughter is your only grandchild.
ROBERT: None of which gives him a word in the running of this place. Or would you like to involve Carson? Or the maids? Or people in the village?
BRANSON: Look, I really…
(Robert is angry but so is Matthew)
MATTHEW: Robert, we must act if we are to avoid another crisis. At the moment the capital is leaking into the cracks caused by bad management.
ROBERT: Bad manage…?
Alfred and Jimmy arrive with the pudding.
ROBERT): We’ll discuss it later.
(But it means he is already furious when Carson arrives)
CARSON: M’lord, I wonder if I could have a word.
ROBERT: Can’t it wait?
CARSON: No, m’lord. It can’t.
INT. KITCHENS/PASSAGE. DOWNTON. DAY
Alfred and Jimmy carry in full trays of plates.
JIMMY: Mr Carson’s got a real bee in his bonnet. What’s that about?
MRS PATMORE: Never you mind. Ivy? Have you been running?
IVY: No. Why?
MRS PATMORE: Well, your colour’s up. I hope you’re not coming down with something.42
ALFRED: How was your day off, Daisy?
DAISY: Lovely, thank you.
IVY: What are you doing? With your day off?
JIMMY: What I usually do. I’m going somewhere on me own.
(He walks off, passing Thomas who lingers at the kitchen door)
MRS PATMORE: You never give up, do you? He’s not interested.
IVY: Well, he must be interested in someone. He’s young, isn’t he?
THOMAS: But that ‘someone’ is not you.
He moves on and Ivy takes some plates into the scullery. Left alone, Mrs Patmore talks to Daisy in a gentler voice.
MRS PATMORE: How was Mr Mason?
DAISY: Very well. As nice as usual…
MRS PATMORE: What is it?
DAISY: He made me an offer. He wants me to go and live at the farm, because he wants to leave me the tenancy and all his stock and all his tools and all his money and everything.
MRS PATMORE: My lord. You’re a proper heiress.
DAISY: I haven’t said yes, yet.
MRS PATMORE: But he’s made the offer. And a very generous one it is, too.
DAISY: He’s ever so generous. And so kind.
INT. DINING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY
The five women are eating together.
CORA: This was very good.
ISOBEL: It was. It really was.
VIOLET: Don’t sound so surprised.
ISOBEL: I am surprised. I owe Ethel an apology. I’ve underestimated her.
EDITH: I sometimes wonder if I should learn to cook.
MARY: Why?
EDITH: You never know. It might come in handy one day. And I’ve got to do something.
ISOBEL: What did you say to that editor who wanted you to write for him?
EDITH: I haven’t said anything, yet. It’s probably too late now, anyway.
ISOBEL: Matthew tells me Robert was against it.
CORA: What difference does that make?
VIOLET: Oh, really, my dear, shhh…
CORA: We’re all family. I’m not letting the side down. I’m just saying that Robert frequently makes decisions based on values that have no relevance any more.
EDITH: Do you think I should do it?
ISOBEL: I wouldn’t countermand your father.
VIOLET: Then why bring it up?
MARY: Well, I do. And so does Matthew.
The door opens. It is Robert.
ROBERT: And so does Matthew what? What else has Matthew decided for my family?
(Isobel stands)
ISOBEL: Robert…
ROBERT: Don’t worry. I don’t need to be fed. We’re going. All of you. Now. This is completely astonishing.
CORA: What are you talking about?
ROBERT: Do you know who has prepared this luncheon for you?
CORA: Yes. Ethel. Our former housemaid.
ROBERT: Who bore a bastard child.
VIOLET: What?
CORA: Robert, Ethel has rebuilt her life…
ROBERT: Has she? Do you know what she has built it into?
MARY: What do you mean?
ISOBEL: I think Cousin Robert is referring to Ethel’s work as a prostitute.
(This is news. Violet recovers first)
VIOLET: Well, of course, these days servants are very hard to find.
ISOBEL: I don’t think you understand the difficulties she’s had to face…
ROBERT: I couldn’t care less how she earns her living! Good luck to her! What I care about is that you have exposed my family to scandal!
ISOBEL: But who would know?
ROBERT: I can’t tell you how people find out these things, but they do. Your gardener, your kitchen maid, your…
The door opens and Ethel enters with a tray of the pudding. She is neatly dressed in black with a white apron. Violet whispers to Mary.
VIOLET: It seems hard to believe, but then I suppose she has an appropriate costume for every activity.
ROBERT: We’re leaving.
ETHEL: Is this because of me, m’lord?
CORA: No. It’s because of his lordship. And we’re not leaving. Is that a Charlotte Russe? How delicious.
ETHEL: I hope it’s tasty, m’lady. Mrs Patmore gave me some help…
CORA: I’m glad to know that Mrs Patmore has a good heart, and does not judge.
(She says this looking directly at Robert)
ROBERT: Is anyone coming?
VIOLET: It seems a pity to miss such a good pudding.
(Robert slams out of the room)
EXT. EXERCISE YARD. YORK PRISON. DAY
The prisoners are exercising. Bates has his eyes on Craig further down the line. Gradually he moves up. Some of the others notice, but they do not give him away. As they pass a small recess, Bates acts fast, pulling Craig out of the line.
CRAIG: They’ll get you for this.
BATES: Maybe. But not before I get you.
CRAIG: I don’t know what you want.
BATES: Who went to see Mrs Bartlett? Who got her to change her evidence?
CRAIG: Who’s Mrs Bartlett?
(Quick as a flash, Bates pulls a thin stiletto knife out of his pocket and presses it into Craig’s neck)
CRAIG: You’re out of your bleedin’ mind.
BATES: Yes. I am out of my mind and, lest we forget, I am an assassin. Now tell me, who went to see her?
CRAIG: Durrant.
BATES: How did you know about her evidence?
CRAIG: I seen where you hide your letters. When we shared a cell.
BATES: I see. Well, now Durrant is going to tell her the police are on to her, and she’s gonna wind up inside if she doesn’t change her story.
CRAIG: Change it to what?
BATES: To the truth.
CRAIG: Or else what?
BATES: Or else I go to the Governor. I tell him how you and Durrant are bringing in drugs and trying to get me to sell them for you.
CRAIG: That’s a lie.
BATES: My goodness, so it is. But I think he’ll believe it, don’t you? When you’ve already had a warning? And Durrant’ll lose his job, and you will stay here five years longer.
CRAIG: Or we could always kill you.
BATES: Yes, but you’re not a killer, Craig. Not like me. You rob and steal and break into helpless old women’s houses. But you’re not a killer. It’s not in you. I am. It is in me.
(He releases his grip on Craig’s throat and steps back)
CRAIG: It was only a joke.
BATES: Well, it was a bad joke and now it’s over.
CRAIG: He won’t like it.
(He nods towards Durrant as they come back out into the light)
BATES: He’ll like it better than early retirement.
(He smiles at a curious Durrant and moves off)
INT. MRS HUGHES’S SITTING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT
Carson is still horrified.
CARSON: No. He went down there and told them. And none of them came away.
MRS HUGHES: Not even the Dowager? My, my. Perhaps the world is becoming a kinder place.
CARSON: You say ‘kinder’. I say weaker and less disciplined.
MRS HUGHES: Well, if her ladyship is prepared to visit Crawley House, I dare say you won’t object when I do.
CARSON: I won’t forbid it, because I have no right to do so, but I do object. With every fibre of my being.
MRS HUGHES: Then we must agree to differ.
(Mrs Hughes walks away but stops when Carson continues)
CARSON: If we must, we must, but you disappoint me. I never thought of you as a woman with no standards.
(Mrs Hughes shoots him a look as she closes the door behind her)
INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT
Robert is on his own when Mary comes in.
MARY: I wish you’d come back to the drawing room.
ROBERT: I’d only set your mother’s teeth on edge.
MARY: She’ll come through it. She will. Which brings me to your performance today. How did that help?
ROBERT: I was angry with Isobel. For exposing you all to gossip.
MARY: You were angry, all right. But not with Isobel or Ethel. I think it’s because the world isn’t going your way. Not any more.
(He pours himself another drink)
ROBERT: Has Matthew told you about his latest plans for Downton?
MARY: I know he wants to change things.
ROBERT: Oh, doesn’t he just. Now he intends to lecture poor old Jarvis on how to do his job, when Jarvis has lived in the area since he was a boy.
MARY: You mustn’t let him upset you.
ROBERT: He’s more or less told me I’ve let the estate fall to pieces.
MARY: I’m sure he didn’t mean that.
ROBERT: Didn’t he? ‘A fool and his money are soon parted.’ And I have been parted from my money, so I suppose I am a fool.
MARY: You won’t win over the Christening.
ROBERT: Not if you’re against me.
MARY: I’m never against you. But you’ve lost on this one.
ROBERT: Did Sybil truly not mind?
MARY: She wanted Tom to be happy. She loved him very much, you know. We all need to remember that.
ROBERT: I keep forgetting she’s gone. I see things in the paper that would make her laugh, I come inside to tell her that her favourite rose is in bloom, and then, suddenly…
(He closes his eyes in grief)
MARY: Say that to Mama. Please.
ROBERT: She doesn’t want to hear it from me.
INT. NURSERY. DOWNTON. NIGHT
The room is in shadow save for a night light burning. Branson looks down into the crib, as Mary and Matthew come in.
MATTHEW: How is she doing?
BRANSON: She’s as healthy and blooming as any motherless child could be.
MARY: She’s a motherless child and I’m a childless mother. You’d think we could sort something out.
(She laughs gently, as if this were a joke)
BRANSON: But she’ll always be motherless. There’s the difference.
MATTHEW: Thank you.
(Mary takes the child from Branson and holds her, while Matthew strokes the baby’s head. Matthew and Mary look at one another)
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT
Dinner’s over and they sit around.
MOLESLEY: You mean they stayed in that house? Even after they knew?
MRS HUGHES: I expect they didn’t want to insult Mrs Crawley.
MOLESLEY: I couldn’t have swallowed another bite. Not once I knew.
MRS HUGHES: Jesus managed to eat with Mary Magdalene.
MOLESLEY: Now, we can’t be sure that he ate with her. He did allow her to wash his feet.
MRS HUGHES: I see. Well, I’ll tell Ethel she has a treat in store.
Further down the table Ivy is distracted by Alfred’s staring.
IVY: What’s the matter with you?
ALFRED: I’m sorry, but… I don’t know… You seem even prettier somehow.
MRS PATMORE: Ivy? We haven’t finished yet.
IVY: We’ve never finished.
But as she walks past the cook, Mrs Patmore stops her.
MRS PATMORE: What’s this?
(She reaches up with her apron and wipes Ivy’s cheek)
MRS PATMORE: Rouge? Have you been painting your face?
IVY: It’s not like the old days, Mrs Patmore. All the girls do it now.
MRS PATMORE: Not in this house, Miss Hussy! Go and wash! We’ll see no more of it!
Jimmy has been playing the piano all this time. Thomas stands by the piano, watching him.
ANNA: It’s nice to know we’ve another piano player in the house. Unless you think it’s too soon?
MRS HUGHES: Oh, no. Lady Sybil was a bright young thing. She’d be glad of some music. You play well, James.
THOMAS: There’s no end to Jimmy’s talents, is there?
(He rests his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. O’Brien has come in)
O’BRIEN: His lordship wants you.
(Thomas strokes Jimmy’s neck and ear and walks off)
JIMMY: I wish he wouldn’t do that.
O’BRIEN: What?
JIMMY: He’s always touching me. I’m going to tell Mr Carson.
O’BRIEN: You’d never.
JIMMY: I’d tell the flippin’ police if it’d make him stop.
O’BRIEN: I must go. I need to fetch some linen and her ladyship won’t be long now.
She leaves the room as Jimmy plays on. Daisy comes up.
DAISY: I like to hear you play, but it makes me sad, too.
JIMMY: Why’s that?
DAISY: There was a footman here once, William; he used to play.
JIMMY: But why does that make you sad?
DAISY: Because he died. In the war. He was… he was my husband.
JIMMY: I see.
(With a half-smile, Daisy moves off)
INT. PASSAGE/SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY
Daisy carries a tray down the passage and into the servants’ hall. She stops dead. Facing away from her is Alfred, alone, singing under his breath and trying to dance the foxtrot.
DAISY: What are you doing?
(He jumps round as if he’d been shot)
ALFRED: Nothing.
DAISY: It didn’t look like nothing.
ALFRED: Can you dance the foxtrot?
DAISY: I think so. Yeah. I can.
ALFRED: Would you teach me?
DAISY: Well, I’m s’posed to lay the tea…
ALFRED: And here’s me thinking you’d like to dance with me.
DAISY: Go on, then.
(She puts down the tray and joins him)
ALFRED: How do you put that hand…?
DAISY: Like this.
(They take up a dancing position)
DAISY: You do… that foot goes back first.
ALFRED: Right.
DAISY: Yeah, it goes: slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, slow, quick, quick.
(The pair dance clumsily under Daisy’s tutelage, though she’s clearly relishing every moment of it)
ALFRED: What is it?
DAISY: Nothing. It just reminded me of when Thomas tried to teach me the grizzly bear…
ALFRED: I’ve never heard of that one.
DAISY: Well, it was a long time ago, and a lot’s happened since. Now, come on.
(She starts to sing softly, as she dances)
INT. BEDROOM PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT
O’Brien is carrying some shirts. She passes the dressing room door as Thomas comes out. They talk in hushed tones.
O’BRIEN: Everything all right?
THOMAS: So so. I don’t think he’s very happy but it’s none of my business.
O’BRIEN: Not like your little footman friend.
THOMAS: Why do you say that?
O’BRIEN: I think he’s got a crush on you. He was purring when you were with him at the piano. I saw.
THOMAS: Well, he’s a nice lad. And he’s obviously got good taste.
(O’Brien laughs and walks on)
EXT. DOWNTON. DAY
Mary and Edith are walking up the drive when Anna comes running towards them, waving a telegram.
ANNA: M’lady! It’s arrived! It’s here! I wanted you to be the first to know!
MARY: Know what? What’s arrived?
ANNA: He’s done it! Mr Murray’s done it! He’s got her to make a statement! Witnessed and everything!
EDITH: Does he say why Mrs Bartlett changed her mind and told the truth in the end?
ANNA: I don’t care why she did it! She’s done it! That’s what matters!
EDITH: So when will Bates be set free?
ANNA: It’ll take a few weeks. For the formalities. But he’ll be released. Mr Murray’s quite clear about that. So Mr Bates is coming home.
MARY: Oh, I am so, so happy for you.
ANNA: I know you are.
EDITH: Have you told Papa?
ANNA: Not yet, m’lady.
MARY: Oh, do. Please do. He’s very low just now. And it will be wonderful for him to hear something good.
(They all run towards the house)
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY
Daisy and Alfred are practising the foxtrot.
DAISY: I’ve got to go. I must get started on the luncheon.
ALFRED: Do you think I’m getting better?
(Daisy hesitates. There isn’t much sign of it)
DAISY: Why does it matter if you’re enjoying yourself?
ALFRED: Because I’ve got to get the hang of it. I’ve just got to, that’s all.
INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY
Robert is working when Cora comes in, with a sheet of paper.
CORA: Have you seen this note from Mama?
ROBERT: I have. I wonder what she wants.
CORA: I can stand anything but a lecture on marital harmony.
(He laughs as if she were joking. But she does not laugh)
CORA: Do we have to go?
ROBERT: I think so. And we needn’t stay long.
CORA: Good.
ROBERT: You look very nice this morning.
CORA: Don’t flirt with me, Robert. Not now. Inncase you’ve forgotten, our daughter is dead.
(Cora walks out, closing the door behind her)
INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY
Robert is alone now, and sad, when the door bursts open and Anna is standing there, flushed. Behind herbare Mary and Edith, still in their coats. Robert gets to his feet.
ANNA: I’m ever so sorry to interrupt, m’lord, but Mrs Bartlett has given a statement that’ll clear him. At least, Mr Murray says ‘it will make the verdict unsafe’. So Mr Bates is coming back to Downton.
MARY: Isn’t it marvellous?
ROBERT: Yes. That is absolutely marvellous. Do you want to telephone Murray? If you do, tell Carson. He’ll manage it for you.
EDITH: Why? Are you going out?
ROBERT: Your grandmother has asked us to call. But I’ll hear what he says later. I really am so very glad.
INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. DAY
Carson is working on the wine books. He sees Ethel passing.
CARSON: Excuse me. What are you doing here?
ETHEL: I’m sorry, Mr Carson, but I wanted to thank Mrs Patmore, and I’ve brought these flowers.
CARSON: When we want flowers, there are plenty in the gardens here.
(Mrs Hughes has arrived to hear this last remark)
MRS HUGHES: How nice of you, Ethel. Mrs Patmore’s in the kitchen.
Ethel moves off as Mrs Hughes gives Carson a severe look.
MRS HUGHES: I hope you never need a favour from your fellow man.
CARSON: You can talk as tough as you like. I know you won’t abandon me.
MRS HUGHES: Well then, why doesn’t that thought make you kinder?
CARSON: Because I am who I am, Mrs Hughes.
INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY
Daisy and Alfred are dancing.
DAISY: Slow, slow, quickly go back, slow…
JIMMY: Oh…
(He has come in and he stands there looking at them)
JIMMY: Look at the pair of you.
DAISY: Alfred’s learning the foxtrot.
JIMMY: I bet he is, but he’s gonna have to do better than that.
DAISY: What do you mean? Why?
JIMMY: Well, he’s only learning it to please our
Ivy. Aren’t you, m’laddo?
DAISY: Is that true?
ALFRED: Well…
JIMMY: Of course it is, you runner bean. Now step aside, and let me show you how it’s done.
Without waiting for a response, he seizes Daisy’s hand and starts to dance a smooth, accomplished foxtrot, singing to accompany himself as he does so.
CARSON: What is going on here? At a time like this, of sober dignity!
(They freeze. Carson is standing in the doorway)
CARSON: Have you lost all sense of shame and propriety, sir? What makes you think you’re the stuff of a first footman? It’s Alfred who looks like a first footman to me. Take a leaf from his book and learn to conduct yourself with discretion!
JIMMY: But, Mr Carson, he was the one…
CARSON: Silence! You’re a disgrace to your livery! And as for you, Daisy, have your years here taught you nothing?
(He turns on his heel and goes. Jimmy looks at Alfred)
JIMMY: Thanks for speaking up.
(He goes, leaving the others alone)
ALFRED: I don’t suppose you want to practise…
DAISY: I’m very busy. Why don’t you ask Ivy if she’s got any spare time?
INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWER HOUSE. DAY
Robert and Cora have come in to find Violet and Clarkson, which is a surprise. Cora is the first to gather her wits.
CORA: Doctor Clarkson.
CLARKSON: Lady Grantham. How are you?
CORA: Much as you’d expect me to be.
VIOLET: Doctor Clarkson has something to tell you, which may alter your view on things a little.
CORA: I don’t mean to be discourteous, but I doubt it.
ROBERT: Since you’re here, I have a few words of my own to say. I feel I owe you an apology —
(But Clarkson holds up a hand to cut him off)
CLARKSON: Please, Lord Grantham, if you’ll just allow me…
(He hesitates, but he knows he has to say it)
CLARKSON: On that awful night, I’m afraid I may have given you the impression that my recommended course of treatment offered a real chance for Lady Sybil’s survival.
(They are all silenced by this)
CLARKSON: The truth, and I’ve done a great deal of research since, as you can imagine, is that the chance was a small one. A tiny one, really. I’d read that early delivery was the only way to avoid the trauma, and it is.
CORA: As you tried so hard to tell us.
CLARKSON: But what I did not quite realise was that eclampsia is almost invariably fatal, with or without a caesarean. Had you agreed, we would have subjected Lady Sybil to the fear and pain of a hurried operation, when in all likelihood she would have died anyway.
CORA: But there was a chance…
(Clarkson looks at Violet, nods and then answers)
CLARKSON: An infinitesimal one. The discomfort and the terror would have been all too certain.
ROBERT: So you think Tapsell was right?
CLARKSON: Oh, I cannot go that far. Sir Philip Tapsell ignored all the evidence in a most unhelpful and — I may say — arrogant manner.
ROBERT: But Sybil was going to die.
CLARKSON: When everything is weighed in the balance, I believe that Lady Sybil was going to die.
(They are silent as this sinks in)
CLARKSON: And now I’ll take my leave.
(He walks out and closes the door. Cora starts to weep and stands there, shaking. Then Robert puts his arms around her and they are motionless, crying together. Violet has done her work)
End of the episode.
Ecrit par Stella,
basé sur le script officiel
