* * *
She nods, but she’s too preoccupied to concentrate on this.
CARSON (CONT’D): Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.
MRS HUGHES: No. Stay. Please. I’ve got something I’d like to talk about. If you’ve a minute.
He nods and comes in, taking a chair opposite her.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): Before I first came here as head housemaid, I was walking out with a farmer. When I told him I’d taken a job at Downton, he asked me to marry him. I was a farmer’s daughter from Argyll, so I knew the life …
* * *
CARSON: And you were tempted.
* * *
MRS HUGHES: He was very nice. But then I came here, and I did well, and I didn’t want to give it up. So I told him no and he married someone else.
* * *
CARSON: And he was miserable.
MRS HUGHES: No, he was happy. She was a good woman and they had a healthy son.
CARSON: So, what happened?
* * *
MRS HUGHES: She died. Three years ago. And last month he wrote asking to see me again. And I agreed. Because, all this time, I’ve wondered.
CARSON: Go on.
MRS HUGHES: I met him the other night. We had dinner at the Grantham Arms and after, he took me to the fair.
CARSON: And he was horrible and fat and red-faced. And you couldn’t think what you ever saw in him.
Mrs Hughes fingers the doll Joe Burns gave her.
MRS HUGHES: He was still a nice man. He is still a nice man. Well, he was a bit red-faced and his suit was a little tight, but none of that matters. In the real ways, he hadn’t changed.
CARSON: And he proposed again and you accepted?
She looks at him for a moment before she answers.
MRS HUGHES: In many ways I wanted to accept. But I’m not that farm girl anymore. I was flattered, of course, but I’ve changed, Mr Carson.
CARSON: Life’s altered you, as it’s altered me. And what would be the point of living if we didn’t let life change us?*
She doesn’t know how to answer.
CARSON (CONT’D): You won’t be leaving, then?
At that moment, there’s a knock on the door, and Anna sticks her head into the room.
ANNA: You’d better come. Mrs Patmore’s on the rampage. She wants the key to the store cupboard. You know how angry she gets that she hasn’t got one of her own.
MRS HUGHES: Nor will she have. Not while I’m housekeeper here.
Anna has gone. Mrs Hughes looks at the butler.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): Leaving? When would I ever find the time?
59 INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
The family, plus the Crawleys and minus Sybil, are waiting to go to dinner. Carson’s with them. Thomas is at the door.
CORA: Whatever is holding Sybil up?
MARY: She was banging on about her new frock.
60 INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM/BEDROOM PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
In a series of shots, we see Sybil being dressed by Anna before a looking glass. We only ever see her from the waist up.
61 INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
ROBERT: We’d better go in without her. Or it’s not fair on Mrs Patmore.
VIOLET: Is her cooking so precisely timed? You couldn’t tell.
Which irritates Cora. Isobel weighs in on Cora’s side.
ISOBEL: I think her food is delicious.
VIOLET: Naturally.
* * *
62 INT. STAIRCASE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Sybil is running down, but still we only see her top half.
* * *
63 INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
MATTHEW: Here she comes.
The door opens and, sure enough, Sybil walks in. She’s wearing a flowing pair of emerald green silk trousers.
SYBIL: Good evening, everyone!
She is greeted by a sea of dropped jaws, and varying degrees of incredulity, even if Matthew smiles.
* * *
64 EXT/INT. DOWNTON/DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.*
Outside the drawing room windows, Branson is spying on this scene. His eyes gleam at the appearance of Sybil …
MRS HUGHES: Mr Branson!
She is standing at the corner of the house by the service courtyard. He springs back from the window and stares at her.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): Don’t play with fire, Mr Branson. Or you’ll get burned.
She knows just what is going on.
* * *
END OF EPISODE FOUR
EPISODE FIVE
ACT ONE
1 INT. MARY’S BEDROOM. DAY.
Gwen and Anna are making the bed, one on each side. Daisy is laying the fire. She drops the fire irons with a clang. Anna lets out a gasp, then laughs at herself.
ANNA: You made me jump.
Now lumps of coal fall and roll everywhere.
GWEN: Daisy, what is the matter with you? You’re all thumbs.
DAISY: Sorry …
She scrapes everything together again, looking round.
DAISY (CONT’D): I hate this room.
GWEN: Why? What’s the matter with it?
In a flash, we see Daisy’s viewpoint on that fateful night, the dead body being carried round the corner by Mary. Daisy did not make out the identities of the other carriers, but Mary’s face is caught clearly in a shaft of candlelight. She comes out of her reverie to find Anna looking at her.*
2 INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.
Robert is finishing his breakfast with all three daughters. The dog, Pharoah, is at his feet. He reads a letter.
MARY: Who’s that from, Papa? You seem very absorbed.
ROBERT: Your aunt Rosamond.
EDITH: Anything interesting?
There is, but Robert doesn’t want to repeat it.
ROBERT: Nothing to trouble you with.
SYBIL: Poor Aunt Rosamond. All alone in that big house. I feel so sorry for her.
MARY: I don’t. All alone, with plenty of money, in a house in Eaton Square? I can’t imagine anything better.
ROBERT: Really, Mary, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. There will come a day when someone thinks you mean what you say.
MARY: It can’t come soon enough for me.
Robert stands and turns to Carson, who is by the sideboard.
ROBERT: Carson, I’ll be in the library. Will you let me know when her ladyship is downstairs?
CARSON: Certainly, m’lord.
Robert gathers up his letters, then sees one he’d missed.
ROBERT: Sybil, darling. This is for you.
She takes the letter and opens it. It contains good news.
3 INT. BEDROOM PASSAGE/SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DAY.
Sybil is walking along, with the opened letter in her hands behind her back.
* * *
GWEN: What is it, m’lady?
SYBIL: Look.
She gives Gwen the letter she was reading at breakfast.
* * *
SYBIL (CONT’D): I saw another opening for a secretary and I applied.
GWEN: For me? But you never said.
SYBIL: I didn’t want you to be disappointed.
GWEN: I thought you’d given up.
* * *
SYBIL: I’ll never give up and nor will you. Things are changing for women, Gwen. Not just the vote but our lives. We’re going to have real lives.
* * *
During this, Gwen has read the letter.
GWEN: But it’s tomorrow! At ten o’clock! How can it be? Last time we waited for weeks and weeks, and this one’s tomorrow!
SYBIL: Then we must be ready by tomorrow, mustn’t we?
Gwen is breathless with excitement.*
4 EXT. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
The Crawleys’ house catches the morning light.
5 INT. HALL. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
Isobel comes downstairs to find Matthew putting on a coat.
* * *
ISOBEL: You’re very late this mornin
g.
MATTHEW: I’m not going into the office. I’m taking a will to be signed in Easingwold, at eleven.
* * *
ISOBEL: I thought I’d write to Edith, to settle our promised church visit.
MATTHEW: If you want.
He checks his appearance in the glass.
ISOBEL: We can’t just throw her over, when she made such an effort to arrange the last one.
She gives him a look, which forces him to return it.
MATTHEW: It’s all in your head.
ISOBEL: I don’t think so.
MATTHEW: Then she’s barking up the wrong tree.
ISOBEL: Poor Edith. I do hope there’s a right tree for her, somewhere.*
Molesley has come in. He walks forward to open the door.
MOLESLEY: Ma’am, I was wondering if I might take some time this afternoon, to help in the village hall.
MATTHEW: Why? What’s happening?
MOLESLEY: It’s the flower show, sir, next Saturday. I’ll give my father a hand with his stall, if I may.
ISOBEL: Of course you must go.
MATTHEW: And so, I’m afraid, must I.
He grabs a hat, kisses his mother’s hand and leaves.
6 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DAY.
A hand carefully replaces an ancient key on a hook. It is Thomas who quickly conceals a bottle of wine behind his back when he hears footsteps. Bates looks in at the door.
BATES: Oh. Is Mr Carson about?
THOMAS: I don’t think so. I was just looking for him, myself.
But he does not move. Bates stares at him for a moment and then, with a brisk nod, he goes. Thomas is not comfortable.
7. EXT. CORA’S SITTING ROOM. DAY.
The door opens and Robert enters. Cora is at her desk.
ROBERT: Busy?
CORA: I’m just trying to sort out the wretched flower show but come in.
ROBERT: I’ve had a letter from Rosamond.
CORA: Don’t tell me. She wants a saddle of lamb and all the fruit and vegetables we can muster.
ROBERT: She enjoys a taste of her old home.
CORA: She enjoys not paying for food.
* * *
ROBERT: Carson will organise a hamper. Then one of the girls can go down and cable which train it’ll be on. But there’s something else … Apparently, the word’s going round London that Evelyn Napier has given up any thought of Mary. That he’s going to marry one of the Semphill girls.
* * *
* * *
Cora looks at him, before she answers quite carefully.
CORA: So what? We knew it wouldn’t work after he stayed for the hunt.
* * *
ROBERT: She writes as if, somehow, it reflects badly on Mary.
CORA: Your dear sister is always such a harbinger of joy.
ROBERT: No, as if … as if Mary had somehow been found wanting. In her character.
She looks at him hard, but he knows nothing.
CORA: I don’t believe Mr Napier would have said that.
She turns her attention back to the letter she is writing.
ROBERT: Neither do I, really, but—
* * *
CORA: She ought to be married. When I was her age, I was a mother. Talk to her.
* * *
ROBERT: She never listens to me. If she did, she’d marry Matthew.*
CORA: What about Anthony Strallan?
* * *
ROBERT: What about him?
CORA: Well, Maud’s been dead for two years so he must be over it by now. And he has to marry again.
ROBERT: Why?
CORA: He’s got no children. He needs an heir.
ROBERT: How alluring you make him sound.
CORA: Well?
* * *
ROBERT: Anthony Strallan is at least my age and as dull as paint. I doubt she’d want to sit next to him at dinner, let alone marry him.†
CORA: She has to marry someone, Robert. And if this is what’s being said in London, she has to marry soon.
She is very definite indeed, which surprises him.
8 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DAY.
Bates sews buttons, Anna mends the hem of a skirt. O’Brien is unpicking a lace collar. Daisy’s cracking walnuts. Thomas reads a paper. William is cleaning candlesticks.
O’BRIEN: You shouldn’t do that in here.
WILLIAM: I don’t like being in the pantry all alone. And Mr Carson won’t mind. He’s gone into the village.
THOMAS: He’ll mind if I tell him.
Anna glances at the lace the other maid is working on.
ANNA: That’s pretty.
O’BRIEN: Do you think so? She wants it put onto a new shirt, but it’s a bit old-fashioned, to my taste.
DAISY: Oh no, it’s lovely.
O’Brien ignores Daisy. Anna tries to make up for the snub.
ANNA: Have you recovered?
BATES: What from?
ANNA: Daisy had a bit of a turn. When we were in Lady Mary’s room. Didn’t you?
DAISY: I’m fine, thank you.
She doesn’t want to continue this.
THOMAS: What sort of turn? Did you see a ghost?
WILLIAM: Will you leave her alone, if she doesn’t want to talk about it?
THOMAS: I’ve often wondered if this place is haunted. It ought to be.
O’BRIEN: By the spirits of the maids and footmen who died in slavery.
BATES: But not, in Thomas’s case, from overwork.
ANNA: Come on, Daisy. What was it?
The room’s attention upon her, Daisy shrugs, uneasily.
DAISY: I don’t know. I was thinking … First we had the Titanic—
O’BRIEN: Don’t keep harping back to that.
DAISY: I know it’s a while ago, but we knew them. I think of how I laid the fires for Mr Patrick, but he drowned in that icy water.
O’BRIEN: For God’s sake.
DAISY: Then there was the Turkish gentleman. It just seems there’s been too much death in the house.
WILLIAM: But what’s that got to do with Lady Mary’s bedroom?
DAISY: Nothing. Nothing at all.
O’Brien is interested by her nervousness. So is Thomas.
* * *
9 EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Isobel’s in the village. There is activity around the hall.
* * *
10 INT. DOWNTON VILLAGE HALL. DAY.
A hum of activity, with bunting being hung and tables set out. Molesley sees Isobel, who is approaching the stage.
MOLESLEY: Afternoon, ma’am.
They turn to what is obviously going to be a display table.
ISOBEL: When do you put that magnificent display of prizes on show?
MOLESLEY: Not ‘til the day, itself.
ISOBEL: I remember a superb cup from last year.
MOLESLEY: The Grantham Cup. It was donated by the late Lord Grantham. For the Best Bloom in the Village.
ISOBEL: And who won it last year?
VIOLET (V.O.): I did.
She is standing there, as magnificent as usual.
ISOBEL: Well done. And the year before?
MOLESLEY: Her ladyship won that one, too.
Isobel looks at Violet, who nods graciously saying nothing.
ISOBEL: Heavens, how thrilling. And before that?
Molesley changes the subject, turning to an older man who is arranging a cloth over a table. Isobel understands.
MOLESLEY: You’ve met my father.
ISOBEL: Good afternoon, Mr Molesley. What are you showing this year?
BILL MOLESLEY: Oh, this and that.
MOLESLEY: Only the finest roses in the village.
ISOBEL: Really? What an achievement.
She invites Violet’s opinion, but it is a challenge.
VIOLET: It’s a wonderful area for roses. We’re very lucky. We’ll see some beautiful examples right across the show. Won’t we, Mr Molesley?
BILL MOLESLEY: If you say so, your ladyship.
* * *
He is defeated. Violet joins Cora, and Isobel follows.
ISOBEL: How are you getting on?
CORA: My main job is referee. What with defending the categories and protecting the judges, I’m completely worn out by the end.
VIOLET: It’s so lovely for me, just to sit back and watch you do the work, after so many years of having to run it … Well, I must get back. Goodbye, dear.
With a cool smile, she walks off. Cora lowers her voice.
CORA: She can’t stand not being President any more. Every year she haunts the tent like the ghost of Christmas-yet-to-come.
ISOBEL: I was talking to Molesley about the Grantham Cup. I gather she always wins it.
CORA: That was the price of peace.
ISOBEL: But suppose she hasn’t grown the best bloom? What happens then? Doesn’t it annoy the village?
CORA: Not really. They see it as a charming, old world tradition, and, to be honest, I simply cannot face another fight.
ISOBEL: I don’t blame you.
But there is revolution in her eyes.
* * *
11 INT. BEDROOM PASSAGE. DAY.
O’Brien comes out of Cora’s bedroom, carrying clothes, to find Thomas staring out of a window. He looks worried.
O’BRIEN: What’s up with you?
Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Page 20