VIOLET: No, and in case you hadn’t noticed, she hasn’t been there for some time.
CORA: You know what I mean.
VIOLET: No, not really. You can’t pretend it’s not respectable. When every day we’re treated to pictures of queens and princesses in Red Cross uniform ladling soup down the throat of some unfortunate.
CORA: But Sybil won’t be ladling soup. She’ll have to witness unimaginable horrors. When she’s an innocent.
ISOBEL: Her innocence will protect her.
VIOLET: For once, I agree with Cousin Isobel. Sybil must be allowed to do her bit like everyone else.*
* Violet, again, comes out for me on the right side on this issue. She believes in the role of the aristocracy – there’s no point in thinking she questions it, because she doesn’t – but she believes in the aristocracy militant, meaning that they must do their duty. There is no social reason for Sybil not to do this job, since half the female royalty of Europe was being photographed in nurses’ uniforms. The fact that it’s unpleasant is no excuse for Sybil to be kept away. Once again, the exchange gives another character pointer as to how Violet thinks.
18 EXT. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Isobel climbs down as Molesley comes out to greet her.
VIOLET: What do you think about Robert’s new appointment? Can they really mean to drag him off to the front?
CORA: I shouldn’t have thought so, but no doubt we’ll find out soon.
VIOLET: I’m starting to feel as if we’re in an army camp and I’ll be called any moment for drill.
CORA: How relentless it all is. What about you, Molesley? Are you ready for the call, if it comes?
MOLESLEY: It won’t be coming for me, m’lady.
The ladies look to him for an explanation.
MOLESLEY (CONT’D): I had a letter from the War Office. They say I’m not suitable for service.
CORA: Why not?
MOLESLEY: I really couldn’t say, m’lady.
ISOBEL: As you can imagine, Molesley’s father is beside himself with joy.
VIOLET: God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform.†
CORA: I suppose they’ll come for Branson and William next. What will poor William’s father do? And how on earth will Carson manage then?
But Violet doesn’t comment on this. She smiles and walks away as Pratt closes the door and remounts the box.
† In the days before conscription, from the start of the war until early 1916, a medical discharge was not that hard to get, because if you didn’t want to enlist, you didn’t enlist. Even when people realised that conscription was inevitable, you could write in with your own pungent reasons as to why so-and-so was unfit for duty, and when conscription was first brought in many excuses were accepted. The second war was much tougher.
19 EXT. RAILWAY STATION. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Branson watches as the passengers climb down from the train. Mary gets out of a first-class carriage and Bates leaves a third-class one with a bag. He stops to catch his breath.
MARY: Bates? No one told me you were on this train.
BATES: They didn’t know, m’lady.
MARY: We’ll give you a lift to the house.*
A porter arrives with Mary’s cases and gives them to Branson, and they leave.
* Someone told me that Mary would never have given Bates a lift home from the station. But of course she would, and it would not have been unusual. I am not saying they would have cuddled up on the back seat; the servant would sit in front with the chauffeur, the family member in the back. Why wouldn’t this have happened? That’s what is so odd about studying this kind of life, the often distorted way these things are perceived through modern eyes.
20 EXT. DOWNTON. EVE.
The car drives towards the magnificent great house. Anna and William stand by the front door. The vehicle draws to a halt. William starts to unstrap the cases with Anna, who is amazed as Bates gets out. Branson holds the door for Mary.
ANNA: Why didn’t you say you were coming?
BATES: I didn’t know ‘til today.
MARY: Anna, I borrowed a case from Lady Rosamund. I bought some things while I was in London.
ANNA: Very good, m’lady.†
Her eyes follow Bates as he walks away to the side entrance.
† Here we re-establish Mary’s relationship with Anna. They’re perfectly friendly, but Mary’s first instruction is about the case. It’s all quite businesslike.
21 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. DAY.
Mrs Patmore is rather taken aback.
MRS PATMORE: But what does her ladyship say?
SYBIL: Well, it would be our secret. A surprise. You don’t mind, do you?
MRS PATMORE: It’s not that I mind, m’lady —
SYBIL: And I only need the basics. How to boil an egg, how to make tea.
MRS PATMORE: Don’t you know how to make tea?
SYBIL: Not really.*
There is a burst of giggles. Daisy and a couple of the kitchen maids are laughing. Sybil turns to them.
SYBIL (CONT’D): You’re right. It is a joke. But when I start my course, I don’t want to be a joke. Will you help me?
DAISY: ‘Course we will. Won’t we?
MRS PATMORE: If you say so. Let’s get started. Do you know how to fill a kettle?
SYBIL: Everyone knows that.
She takes the kettle and holds it under the tap, turning it on far too hard. The spray soaks her.
MRS PATMORE: Not everyone, apparently.
* Sybil’s instruction in cooking I took from an aunt of my own, who felt that not knowing how to cook at all was faintly ridiculous. In her case, her mother, my great-grandmother, was fine with the idea, but the cook objected and she refused to act as teacher. She thought it was wrong and would disturb things.
22 INT. ROBERT’S DRESSING ROOM. DOWNTON. EVE.
Bates is dressing Robert in white tie.
BATES: So will you go to the front?
ROBERT: I imagine so. Eventually. But don’t worry. You’re quite safe.
BATES: In that case, there’s something I’d like your opinion on, m’lord… Would you ever consider allowing me to remain in my post if I were —
ROBERT: Yes?
BATES: Married. If I were married.
ROBERT: Good heavens. What brought this on?
BATES: You see, I had a bit of a shock when I was in London.
ROBERT: Go on.
BATES: I always thought my mother rented her house. She never said any different… But it seems now she owned it. And she’s left it to me.
ROBERT: But that’s good news, surely?
BATES: It’s extraordinary news, among people like us. She had savings, too. And I’ve got all of it.
ROBERT: Enough to make Anna an honest woman?
BATES: She’s an honest woman now.
ROBERT: Of course she is. Forgive me. I was just being flippant.
He feels a little awkward after his bad joke.
ROBERT (CONT’D): Well, we could give you one of the cottages. Move things round a bit, so you’re near the house.
BATES: Would you do that?
ROBERT: I don’t see why not. When’s the happy day?
BATES: Not yet. There’s something else. And you should know it because it may colour your answer. I have a wife. A living wife. So there’s the matter of a divorce to finalise.
This is an enormous confession. Robert absorbs it slowly.
ROBERT: Hmm. To start with, I suggest we leave that bit out of our account to Lady Grantham.
BATES: With your lordship’s permission, I won’t say anything to anyone until it’s all settled. I just wanted to know the lay of the land.
ROBERT: I cannot approve of divorce, Bates, but we won’t fall out over it. You have not made your decision lightly so I will say no more than that. Tell me when it is settled, and we’ll consider the options then.*
* This was a sadder cut for me. I don’t suggest we were wrong to take it out in th
e greater scheme of things, but I was sorry to lose Robert’s disapproval of divorce, because while divorce was not unknown among the upper classes by this time, it had required an Act of Parliament until pretty late in the nineteenth century and it was still a very Big Thing. It was the First World War that altered matters, but nevertheless it was slow. Even when I was grown-up and going to Ascot, you still couldn’t get into the Royal Enclosure if you were divorced. That must be hard for some younger people to believe now, but it was true, and in my own time.
23 INT. KITCHEN PASSAGE/SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Anna is walking downstairs carrying some linen when Mrs Hughes sees her. She gives her a box with a slit in the top.
MRS HUGHES: We don’t need tickets, but it’d be nice if those who go made a contribution. I won’t have time for it, but take this as a start.
She gives Anna a shilling. Anna puts it into the box, which she carries into the servants’ hall. Daisy follows her.
BATES (V.O.): When can I talk to you?
She spins round, laughing at the way he’s made her jump.
ANNA: After the concert. Outside. In the courtyard. There’s bound to be a gap before they start dinner.
They go as William comes in. He picks up the box.
DAISY: Anna’s collecting for the hospital. Are you going up for the concert?
WILLIAM: Maybe. Can I sit with you?
DAISY: Don’t be daft. We’ve got a dinner to make. I’ve not got time for concerts.
WILLIAM: I’ve had a letter from my dad. He won’t change his mind. He says he can live with it if I get called up as there’s nothing we can do. But if I enlist and anything happens, he’ll never get over it.
DAISY: He loves you.
WILLIAM: He may love me, but he doesn’t own me, and he’s not being fair.
24 INT. MARY’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Anna is dressing Mary. The other girls and Cora are there.
SYBIL: Glad to be back?
MARY: I’m never sure. When I’m in London, I long for Yorkshire, and when I’m here, I ache to hear my heels clicking on the pavement… I’d forgotten about this nightmare concert. Why didn’t you warn me? I’d have come back tomorrow.
EDITH: But you’d have missed Matthew.
Mary looks at her mother for clarification.
CORA: I was going to tell you. Matthew’s on leave and he’s in the village, so Papa and I thought it would be a good time to mend our fences. He’s coming tonight, with Isobel.
EDITH: And his fiancée.
MARY: What?
CORA: Edith, I don’t know how helpful you are being.
SYBIL: Matthew’s engaged. He’s brought her to Downton to meet his mother.
Mary has nothing if not iron self-control.
MARY: Well, how marvellous.
SYBIL: You don’t mind?
MARY: Why should I? We’re not going to marry, but I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life in a cave.
CORA: Exactly what Papa and I feel. Please try to be happy for him.
MARY: Of course I’m happy. Good luck to him. Anyway, there’s someone I want you all to meet… Have you ever come across Richard Carlisle?*
She examines her face carefully in the glass, but she is well aware that this is a piece of very interesting news.
EDITH: Sir Richard Carlisle? The one with all those horrid newspapers?
MARY: We met at Cliveden.*
EDITH: But how old is he?
MARY: Old enough not to ask stupid questions. Anyway, I can’t wait for you to know him. If only Papa hadn’t closed down the shoot.
CORA: Most people have stopped shooting now that the war’s on. But I’m sure Papa would be happy to have Sir Richard to come and stay.
EDITH: Are you? I shouldn’t have thought he was Papa’s type at all.
She heads for the door. Cora and Sybil stand.
CORA: Sybil? What have you done with your hands? They’re quite red.
SYBIL: Nothing… I was painting, and I used turpentine to clean them.
CORA: You should wear gloves. Coming?
MARY: I’ll be with you in one minute!
She smiles brightly as they file out and close the door. Mary looks through the reflection at the silent, sympathetic maid.
ANNA: Are you all right, m’lady?
MARY: Oh, Anna.
Her face crumples into her hands and she sobs her heart out.
* Mary hates to be pitied, and the idea that people would feel sorry for her because she has no one to call her own, while Matthew has a fiancée, would be completely unacceptable. As a result, she takes someone she’s met, whom she quite likes even if she’s not mad about him, and immediately elevates him to the position of suitor. The fact remains that if someone had come in and said, ‘Matthew’s here on his own, Mary, and he’s dying to see you,’ we would not have heard about Richard Carlisle, then or ever. As for his name, I think I was reading The Eustace Diamonds at the moment of writing this bit, and Trollope has his characters all breaking their journey at Carlisle and staying in a hotel, where the diamonds are stolen.
* The home by the Thames of William Waldorf Astor, 1st Viscount Astor and Anglophile American millionaire, who abandoned his native country and came to live in England, which he thought more suited to gentlemen. His eldest son married Nancy Langhorne, who as Nancy Astor became the first woman to take her seat in the House of Commons in 1919. Cliveden would remain in the Astor family until the 1960s.
END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE
25 INT. HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
The hall is packed. A small orchestra is tuning up. The Granthams are sitting in the front row. The inner front door opens and Matthew Crawley enters with Isobel and a young woman. He stops for a moment, to take in his surroundings.
LAVINIA: It’s pretty grand.*
MATTHEW: You’d better get used to it. It’ll be your home one day.
LAVINIA: I’m not sure ‘home’ would ever be quite the word to describe it.
But Robert is advancing up the aisle with a broad grin.
ROBERT: My dear fellow, welcome back. It’s so very good to see you.
Behind him, Mary has moved up to greet Matthew. His eyes find hers, but he turns to the woman with him.
MATTHEW: May I present Miss Lavinia Swire?
LAVINIA: How do you do, Lord Grantham.
ROBERT: How do you do, Miss Swire.
Further down, Violet and Cora look from their seats.
VIOLET: So that’s Mary’s replacement… Well, I suppose looks aren’t everything.
CORA: I think she seems rather sweet. And I’m afraid meeting us all together must be very intimidating.
VIOLET: I do hope so.
Now Mary is with Lavinia and Matthew.
MARY: Hello, Miss Swire. I’m Mary Crawley.
LAVINIA: Of course you are. I mean… I’ve been longing to meet you, because I’ve heard so much about you from Matthew… That is…
She is in a hopeless fluster.
MARY: Nice things, I hope.
MATTHEW: What else would she hear from me?
Lavinia is escorted away by Robert and Isobel. They face each other, the ex-lovers, the eyes of the hall upon them.
MARY: I can’t say. It’s been such a long time. Who knows what you think of me now?
MATTHEW: I think I’m very glad to see you looking so well.
At first she’s silent. Then she laughs, holding out her hand.
MARY: All right. You win. We are at peace again.*
Robert is waiting, and so they sit.
ROBERT: My lords, ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure…
* Lavinia comes from Matthew’s background; by which I mean she is not the child of a landowner, but of a rich businessman. So it’s not a bad match on paper, but the point I wanted to make is that Matthew, having been very bruised by Mary, feels the need to retreat into his comfort zone, i.e. the intellectual, well educated, upper middle class, affluent
, comfortable, but not hidebound and controlled by the rules that govern the landed aristocracy. In short, he does not share the Crawleys’ priorities. I didn’t want Lavinia to be the bad guy. I didn’t want her to be unpleasant because, in a way, that would make it all much easier for Mary. The fact that she’s clearly a perfectly nice girl makes it harder for Violet and Mary to dislike her, which they want to do, of course.
* One of the things I always enjoy about the English, of all classes, is that until recently we gave no marks to people who felt the need to demonstrate their emotions in public. In fact, quite the reverse; we always thought it was a sign of a good and controlled personality that they could more or less hear of the death of their mother and immediately go inside and give a lunch party. I admire it still, I confess to that. Like many of my generation, I think a little bit of emotion every now and then is all the more effective when it’s rare. We’re not permanently sobbing and chucking ourselves into people’s graves. Here we have Mary playing what we suspect is a difficult moment, but very pleasantly. She is a lady.
26 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Carson is filling two claret jugs. Mrs Hughes looks in.
MRS HUGHES: Have you found something nice?
CARSON: Why, particularly?
MRS HUGHES: As a welcome home. For Mr Matthew.
Carson emits a grunt in reply.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): What’s the matter? I thought you’d come round to him.
CARSON: The last time he was here, he hadn’t broken Lady Mary’s heart.
MRS HUGHES: Lady Mary broke her own heart. That’s if she has a heart to break.
CARSON: I don’t think we’re ever going to see eye to eye on this, Mrs Hughes.
MRS HUGHES: She refused him when she thought he’d have nothing. And when he was heir again she wanted him back.
CARSON: I thought caution was a virtue.
MRS HUGHES: Caution may be. Self-interest is not. Perhaps Miss Swire is a gentler person.
CARSON: If you ask me, this ‘Miss Swire’, who, it may interest you to know, is not to be found in Burke’s Peerage or Burke’s Landed Gentry, has an eye to the main chance.
MRS HUGHES: That’s not snobbish, I suppose?
CARSON: I like to see things done properly, Mrs Hughes. And I won’t apologise for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me…*
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