MRS HUGHES: I’ll take her up a tray in a minute, but I dare say she won’t touch a bite.
WILLIAM: What about you, Miss O’Brien?
O’BRIEN: What about me?
WILLIAM: That must have been quite a shock.
O’BRIEN: Yes. Yes, it was.
She is very subdued.
CARSON: I think you’d better dine with us, Mr Branson. We can’t know if you might be needed later.
BRANSON: I’m to go for the doctor at ten.
THOMAS (V.O.): What a long-faced lot!
Thomas is back among them.
CARSON: Kindly show some respect.
THOMAS: Come on, Mr Carson. She’ll get over it. They’re no bigger than a hamster at that stage.
BATES: Will you shut up?
MRS HUGHES: I quite agree. What’s the matter with you, Thomas?
THOMAS: I don’t know. I suppose all this makes me feel … claustrophobic.
He helps himself to a biscuit on the table.
THOMAS (CONT’D): I mean I’m sorry, ‘course I am, but why must we live through them? They’re just our employers. They’re not our flesh and blood.
DAISY: Thomas, don’t be so unkind.
WILLIAM: Is there nothing left on earth that you respect?
THOMAS: Hark at him. Blimey, if he carries on like this for the unborn baby of a woman who scarcely knows his name, no wonder he fell to pieces when his old mum snuffed it.
With a roar, William leaps out of his chair, seizes Thomas by the lapels and starts to punch the daylights out of him.
CARSON: William! Thomas! William! Stop that! That is enough!
But Thomas is badly beaten by the time William is pulled off by Branson, Carson and Bates. Thomas storms out as the others subside. By the door, Mrs Hughes whispers to Carson.
MRS HUGHES: And if you punish him for that, I’ll punish you.
Carson doesn’t put up any resistance.
60 EXT. GARDENS. DOWNTON. DAY.
An open-sided marquee shelters some of the colourful crowd, while others stroll around the lawns in groups. Carson supervises as William, Thomas, both looking rather bruised, and all the maids, serve at tables in the tent or walk among the guests with tea, sandwiches and cakes. Molesley is helping, too. Trays of used crockery are taken out and given to waiting kitchen maids at the side of the house, who in turn give over newly washed china and glass as well as fresh supplies of food. A string quartet plays. Thomas arrives at Doctor Clarkson’s side, carrying a plate.
CLARKSON: Thank you. Oh, Thomas. I’ve done as I promised.
He takes an envelope from his pocket and hands it over.
CLARKSON (CONT’D): General Burton is commanding the Division at Richmond and I think I have a place for you there, under Colonel Cartwright. These are the papers. When you’re ready, report to the local recruiting office and they’ll take it from there. As a matter of fact, I’m being drafted back in as a Captain, so I’ll try to keep an eye on you.
THOMAS: That’s very kind of you, Doctor.
CLARKSON: With any luck, there may be some advantage in your having volunteered so early.*
* * *
THOMAS: Yes. That’s what I thought.
Which doesn’t sound quite right. William meets Daisy who has a tray of cakes. They’re foxed. How can they exchange the two trays?
* * *
WILLIAM: Hang on a minute.
He transfers his own tray to one arm.
WILLIAM: Now give me yours and take this one at the same time.
It looks as if both will fall. With a squeal, Daisy rescues things and at last both hold the desired tray. They laugh.
DAISY: William, I’m sorry I’ve been so unkind to you, lately.
WILLIAM: Oh, that’s all right.
DAISY: No, it’s not all right. I don’t know why I said those things.
WILLIAM: You were under an evil spell.
She knows what he means and blushes.
DAISY: I’m not under it now.
WILLIAM: I’m glad.
DAISY: Friends?
WILLIAM: Always friends.
He goes back to the party. She goes to the kitchens.
61 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. DAY.
Mrs Patmore, looking more normal, is supervising. Mrs Bird is with her. All round the other maids carry, wash and dry.
MRS BIRD: I think we should start the ices now. If you agree, Mrs Patmore.
MRS PATMORE: Certainly, Mrs Bird.
There is the unfamiliar sound of a telephone ringing.
MRS PATMORE: Oh, my Lord. Listen to that. It’s like the cry of the banshee.
Branson appears in the doorway.
BRANSON: Mr Carson’s telephone is ringing. Isn’t someone going to answer it?
MRS PATMORE: I wouldn’t touch that thing with a ten foot pole.
BRANSON: Well, I will then.
62 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Branson is on the telephone.
BRANSON: No, Mr Carson’s busy but can I take a message?
63 EXT. GARDENS. DOWNTON. DAY.
Branson comes tearing round the house. He sees Sybil and races up, rather surprising the others with her, including Edith.
BRANSON: I’ve got news, m’lady!
She listens and then looks round for Gwen. She sees her walking round the house with a full tray and hurries over.
SYBIL: Mr Bromidge has rung! You’ve done it, Gwen! You’ve got the job!
Gwen screams so that one or two guests look over. She turns to a passing maid to get rid of her tray.
GWEN: Take it! Take it!
She and Sybil and Branson hold each other and laugh and spin round. The guests do not see, but Mrs Hughes does.
MRS HUGHES: Something to celebrate?
GWEN: I’ve got the job, Mrs Hughes! I’m a secretary! I’ve begun!
MRS HUGHES: I’m very happy for you, Gwen. And we’ll celebrate. After we’ve finished today’s work.
GWEN: Of course, Mrs Hughes.
She hurries back into the throng, as Mrs Hughes turns away. Sybil and Branson are left holding hands. For a moment, they stare at each other. Then Branson speaks quite softly.
BRANSON: I don’t suppose—
MRS HUGHES (V.O.): Lady Sybil!
The young couple look round. The housekeeper has come back.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): Her ladyship was asking after you.
Sybil drops Branson’s hand and hurries away.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): Be careful, my lad. Or you’ll end up with no job and a broken heart.
BRANSON: What do you mean?
But Mrs Hughes knows what she means. And so does he. Meanwhile Mary strolls with Sir Anthony Strallan.
STRALLAN: I don’t seem to be able to find your sister.
MARY: I wonder where she is. Of course, she may have been cornered. I know there was some old bore she was trying to dodge.
This is disturbing to Strallan.
STRALLAN: Who was that?
MARY: I’m not sure. He’s simply ghastly apparently, but he’d promised to propose today. I can’t tell you how funny she was when she acted it out. She ought to go on the stage.
STRALLAN: Really? Ah, how amusing …
Carson has joined Mrs Hughes by the side of the house.
CARSON: Well done, Mrs Hughes. Beautifully executed as always.
MRS HUGHES: The key is in the planning.
They are interrupted by Thomas.
THOMAS: Mr Carson, this probably isn’t the moment, but I’ve just heard from Doctor Clarkson I’ve been accepted for a training scheme for the army medical corps.
CARSON: Have you, indeed?
THOMAS: Yes. And I want to do it. So I’ll be handing in my notice. I’ll serve out the month, of course.
CARSON: Thank you, Thomas. We can talk about it, later.
Thomas goes and Mrs Hughes leans in.
MRS HUGHES: And you couldn’t have planned that any better, either.
Edith’s with Strallan bu
t he does not seem anxious to talk.
EDITH: You can’t be leaving yet!
STRALLAN: I’m afraid I must. Please make my excuses to your mother.
EDITH: But—
It’s no good. He hurries away. As Edith follows the wretched man with her eyes, she sees Mary smirking at her. Cora lies on a chaise longue. O’Brien arranges the shawls.
O’BRIEN: I wish you’d come inside, m’lady.
CORA: No. People mustn’t think I’m really ill. I don’t want to cast a dampener on the party.
O’BRIEN: Very well. But are you sure you have everything you need, m’lady?
CORA: Dear O’Brien. How sweet you are.
As O’Brien walks away, Violet leaves Rosamund to catch her.
VIOLET: O’Brien. Can I have a word? I need a favour and I don’t want to bother Lady Grantham with it.
O’BRIEN: Certainly, m’lady.
VIOLET: She’s been helping me find a new maid and we’ve had quite a few answers to her advertisement, Can you find where she’s put them, and get Branson to bring them to the Dower House?
O’BRIEN: Her ladyship was helping you find a new lady’s maid?
VIOLET: Yes. We should have asked you, really. You might take a look at the letters if you’ve a minute. There was one we liked the sound of who’d been trained in Paris.
O’Brien is almost in a trance. Violet is a little puzzled.
VIOLET (CONT’D): Do you know where she might have put them? The answers?
O’BRIEN: Oh, yes, m’lady. There are only two or three places they could be.
VIOLET: Dear O’Brien. You’re a treasure. Thank you.
Anna is carrying a tray for the kitchens, when she sees Bates.
ANNA: I didn’t know a garden party was a spectator sport.
BATES: Pretty, though, isn’t it? Hard to believe the clouds are gathering on a summer’s day like this.
ANNA: Mr Bates, I know you think I was wrong, to call on your mother …
BATES: I don’t think that. She likes you, by the way.
ANNA: I had to find out the truth.
BATES: But, you see, you don’t know the whole truth, even now. You know my mother’s truth.
ANNA: But not your wife’s … Where is she, now?
BATES: Couldn’t tell you. So, for all your efforts, everything remains quite unresolved.
But there is a smile on his lips that belies his words.
ANNA: I’d better get back.
As she hurries away, Molesley walks up to Bates.
BATES: You’re here, Mr Molesley? I didn’t know that.
MOLESLEY: Just helping out.
Together they watch as Anna walks towards the tent.
MOLESLEY (CONT’D): Nice girl, that Anna. Do you know if she’s got anyone special in her life?
BATES: I’d like to say she hasn’t. I would, truly. But I’m afraid there is someone.
MOLESLEY: And do you think he’s keen on her? Or is it worth a go?
BATES: Well, he keeps himself to himself and he’s very hard to read at times. But I’d say he’s keen. I’d say he was very keen, indeed.
Mrs Patmore passes him, puffing along with a full tray of ice cream set out in little dishes, speaking as she goes. She hurries up to Daisy in the serving tent, who is arranging another tray of cakes.
MRS PATMORE: Daisy! I said ices, not iced cakes! Now, unclog your ears and get these to William before they turn into soup!
Meanwhile, Mary and Matthew are on the edge of the lawn.
MARY: But I don’t understand. Nothing’s changed.
MATTHEW: Everything’s changed.
MARY: You can’t be sure I was going to refuse you, even if it had been a boy. Because I’m not.
MATTHEW: That’s the point. I can’t be sure. Of you. Or of anything, it seems. The last few weeks have taught me that.
MARY: But you can’t leave Downton.
MATTHEW: I can’t stay. Not now.
MARY: What will you say to Papa?
MATTHEW: That I’m grateful for what he’s trying to do, but the experiment is at an end. I’m not a puppet. I must take charge of my own life again.
* * *
MARY: Until you inherit.
MATTHEW: If indeed I ever do.
* * *
MARY: Would you have stayed, if I’d accepted you?
MATTHEW: Of course.
MARY: So I’ve ruined everything.
MATTHEW: You have shown me I’ve been living in a dream, and it’s time to return to real life. Wish me luck with it, Mary. God knows I wish the best for you.
As he walks away, Violet is watching with Rosamund.
VIOLET: Well, Rosamund. I’m afraid your meddling has cost Mary the only decent offer she’ll ever get.
ROSAMUND: I’m sorry, Mama, but you know me. I have to say what I think.
VIOLET: Why? Nobody else does.
Mary is weeping in the shadows, when Carson approaches.
CARSON: Are you quite well, m’lady?
She answers defiantly but the tears course down her cheeks.
MARY: Of course! You know me, Carson. I’m never down for long.
But she can’t stop crying, and so Carson takes her in his arms, patting her back gently as she cries on his shoulder.
CARSON: I know you have spirit, m’lady. And that’s what counts. It’s all that counts, in the end.
Isobel has found Violet. They look across at Matthew.
ISOBEL: So Mary is to be denied her countess’s coronet, after all?
VIOLET: Don’t crow at me. I think she was very foolish not to take him when she could. And I told her so.
ISOBEL: Well, if I’m perfectly honest, I wonder if Matthew isn’t making the same mistake, right now.
This is a kind of truce, as they stroll on. Robert is standing by Cora, with her hand in his.
ROBERT: Are you warm enough?
CORA: I am when you’re holding my hand.
Carson approaches. He carries a telegram.
CARSON: Your lordship? This has just arrived for you.
ROBERT: Thank you.
He takes it and would open it, but …
CARSON: I’m happy to tell you that Thomas has just handed in his notice. So we’ll be spared any unpleasantness on that score.
ROBERT: What a relief.
He opens the envelope and his face falls. He turns to the company and makes a sign to silence the band.
ROBERT (CONT’D): My lords, ladies and gentlemen, can I ask for silence?
As the band ceases to play, the curious crowd does indeed fall silent. The members of the family, Violet, Cora, the three sisters, plus Isobel, Matthew and Clarkson, look towards him. And so do the servants we know, Carson, the footmen, Bates, Molesley, Anna and Gwen, and, in the serving area at the back, the kitchen maids, the hall boys, Daisy and Mrs Patmore crane for a view of him.
ROBERT: Because I very much regret to announce … that we are at war with Germany.*
Which is a terrifying and sobering thought.
END OF SEASON ONE
CAST LIST
Robert Bathurst
Sir Anthony Strallan
Samantha Bond
Lady Rosamund Painswick
Hugh Bonneville
Robert, Earl of Grantham
Jessica Brown Findlay
Lady Sybil Crawley
Laura Carmichael
Lady Edith Crawley
Jim Carter
Mr Carson
Charlie Cox
Duke of Crowborough
Jonathan Coy
George Murray
Brendan Coyle
Mr Bates
Michelle Dockery
Lady Mary Crawley
Kevin Doyle
Mr Molesley
Bill Fellowes
Joe Burns
Siobhan Finneran
Miss O’Brien
Joanne Froggatt
Anna
Bernard Gallagher
Bill Molesley
Nicky Henson
Charles Grigg
Thomas Howes
William
Theo James
Kemal Pamuk
Rob James-Collier
Thomas
Allen Leech
Branson
Rose Leslie
Gwen
Christine Lohr
Mrs Bird
Phyllis Logan
Mrs Hughes
Elizabeth McGovern
Cora, Countess of Grantham
Sean McKenzie
Mr Bromidge
Sophie McShera
Daisy
Lesley Nicol
Mrs Patmore
Fergus O’Donnell
Mr Drake
Brendan Patricks
Evelyn Napier
David Robb
Dr Clarkson
Cathy Sara
Mrs Drake
Maggie Smith
Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham
Dan Stevens
Matthew Crawley
Jane Wenham
Mrs Bates
Penelope Wilton
Isobel Crawley
PRODUCTION CREDITS
Writer & Creator
Julian Fellowes
Executive Producers
Julian Fellowes
Gareth Neame
Series Producer
Liz Trubridge
Producer
Nigel Marchant
Director (Episodes 1, 6 & 7)
Brian Percival
Director (Episodes 2 & 3)
Ben Bolt
Director (Episodes 4 & 5)
Brian Kelly
Production Designer
Donal Woods
Directors of Photography
David Katznelson DFF
Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Page 32