5 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. DAY.
Isobel is with Mrs Patmore. Mrs Hughes hears them.
ISOBEL: But I don’t understand. The patients are always served their luncheon at half past twelve.
MRS PATMORE: Well, today they’ll be served at one.
MRS HUGHES: Is this something I can help with?
ISOBEL: Mrs Patmore seems to be disobeying my instructions and I can’t get to the reason why.
MRS HUGHES: If you mean the patients’ new lunchtime, her ladyship felt that it made the staff luncheon unreasonably early. She moved it so that they could eat at noon.
ISOBEL: But that will interfere with the nurses’ shifts.
MRS HUGHES: Oh no, she’s altered those, too.
ISOBEL: Has she, indeed? Well, we’ll see about that.
She stalks off. Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes exchange a look.
MRS HUGHES: It was always a question of ‘when’.
6 INT. BOUDOIR. DOWNTON. DAY.*
Cora is writing when Isobel looks round the door.
ISOBEL: May I have a word?
CORA: Can it wait?
ISOBEL: No, it cannot wait.
She shuts the door firmly. She is furious.
ISOBEL (CONT’D): I’ve just come from downstairs where I learned that my timetable has been wantonly disregarded —
CORA: If you mean the new lunchtime, the wretched servants were having to eat at eleven and then starve until their tea at six, so I felt —†
ISOBEL: I have also discovered that you’ve torn up the nurses’ timetable.
CORA: I haven’t torn up anything —
ISOBEL: Of course, it would be foolish to accuse you of being unprofessional, since you’ve never had a profession in your life —
CORA: Now, just a minute!
ISOBEL: You may think that you have the right to ordain the universe, but in this field —
CORA: No, not in this field. In this house, yes! I do have the right! Given me by Doctor Clarkson and by the law of the land! This is my house! And I am in charge right alongside you. And if you would stop your bullying —
ISOBEL: That’s enough! I will not listen to this. If I am not appreciated here I will seek some other place where I will make a difference.
CORA: Good.
ISOBEL: I mean it. I cannot operate where I am not valued. You must see that.
CORA: Certainly.
ISOBEL: I shall go. I will.
CORA: Perhaps it would be best.
ISOBEL: I repeat: I mean it.
CORA: I’m sure you do. And so do I.
Isobel has misjudged the situation.*
* The set designer of Downton, Donal Woods, is one of the most brilliant members of the team. He has also been working on the show all the way through, from the very beginning. He has imagined the whole concept from scratch, and he is probably the most talented designer I have ever worked with. That said (and meant), for this scene in the boudoir, someone on his team found the most extraordinary, not to say eccentric, draped screens I have ever seen. I can only suppose they were concealing something that could not be looked upon by the eyes of 1918. But, quite honestly, I’ve been in that room many times, and I cannot imagine what it could have been that frightened them so. Perhaps they were following a visual reference – a 1917 photograph of the boudoir of Tilly Losch, or the private sitting room of the Marchioness of Milford Haven… But whatever the reason, I find them so odd that I can’t really focus on anything else. In all of Isobel’s shots, she’s standing in front of these weird draperies, as if she were in a tent on some medieval battlefield.
† She calls the servants ‘wretched’ because she feels that their needs are being ignored to an absurd degree. She’s not a revolutionary, and like a great many employers, it wouldn’t have been that she woke up in the middle of the night worrying about the housemaids, but there was a sort of reasonableness that people like Robert and Cora thought had to be observed to make life decent for everyone. For her, to force the servants to have lunch at eleven is just unreasonable.
* My mother always used to say, very firmly, ‘Never make a threat that you’re not prepared to carry out,’ and this is a good motto when you’re bringing up children, as every parent knows. You must never say, ‘You won’t be allowed to watch the film,’ unless you are prepared for the tantrums and shenanigans that will come when the film is cancelled. Because the moment you weaken and give in, from that day forth your word is nothing. Here, Isobel has made the mistake of uttering a threat that she has no desire to carry out. But, of course, Cora picks up on it.
7 INT. HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
Edith is crossing the hall when she sees the housekeeper.
EDITH: Mrs Hughes, I wonder if I might have a word. I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about…
MRS HUGHES: But?
EDITH: When I was in the library this morning, I saw what looked very much like flirting going on, between Major Bryant —
MRS HUGHES: And Ethel?
EDITH: I don’t think she started it, but you know how it is. They’re all so handsome in their uniforms and aching for female company, and I worry that the maids are easy prey.
MRS HUGHES: Thank you, m’lady. Forewarned is forearmed.
8 EXT. STABLE COURTYARD. DOWNTON. DAY.
Sybil is talking to Branson as he mends the car.
SYBIL: Why did you promise Carson not to stage any more protests? When you wouldn’t promise me?
BRANSON: I had my reasons.
SYBIL: But you won’t be content to stay at Downton forever, will you? Tinkering away at an engine instead of fighting for freedom? I thought you’d join the rising in Dublin last Easter.
BRANSON: I might have, if it hadn’t been put down in six short bloody weeks. But don’t fret. The real fight for Ireland will come after the war, and I’ll be ready for it.
Mary, unseen by them, has entered the yard. She cannot hear them, but she can see the intensity with which they talk.
BRANSON (CONT’D): The truth is, I’ll stay at Downton until you want to run away with me.
SYBIL: Don’t be ridiculous.
BRANSON: You’re too scared to admit it, but you’re in love with me.
MARY: Branson, could you take me into Ripon at three?
She is walking across towards them. She looks at Sybil.
MARY (CONT’D): I’m getting some things for Mama. Is there anything you want?
SYBIL: Nothing you can find in Ripon.
9 INT. CLARKSON’S OFFICE. HOSPITAL. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Isobel is with a rather weary Clarkson.
CLARKSON: Well, it is her house.
ISOBEL: Does that mean she’s suddenly received a medical training?
CLARKSON: No —
ISOBEL: Or are you like everyone else in thinking that because she’s a countess, she has acquired universal knowledge by divine intervention?
CLARKSON: Mrs Crawley, convalescent homes are not about medical training. They are far more to do with good food, fresh air and clean sheets.
ISOBEL: Do you know what I think? I think you’d like me to push off and let Lady Grantham run the place with Thomas. You feel it’d be easier.
She stares, waiting for him to deny this. He says nothing.
ISOBEL (CONT’D): Very well. I’ve had a letter from a cousin in Paris who is working in the Wounded and Missing Enquiry Department. They’ve opened a branch in northern France under the aegis of the Red Cross. I shall offer them my services.
CLARKSON: That’s… that’s very drastic.
ISOBEL: I have to go where I am useful. And that place, I’m afraid, is no longer Downton Abbey.
CLARKSON: You’ll be missed.
ISOBEL: By you, possibly. I hope so, anyway. But not, I think, by Lady Grantham.*
* Penelope Wilton was cast in a play in London, which she very much wanted to do. And my own feeling – and, of course, it’s really my sympathy with actors, because I still tend to consider myself an actor – is th
at people are more likely to stay longer with a show if you accommodate them as much as you possibly can. So, we bit on the bullet and decided to let it happen. We had already started on the rivalry between Isobel and Cora, so we had laid the foundations of why she would leave. We just had to let it boil up and then she could flounce off to France and be in the play. Of course, we couldn’t cover the whole run, but this fictional trip to France allowed her to rehearse and open in it. After that, she had to combine the two jobs, which I think is a tough brief, filming by day and in the theatre at night. But Penelope managed to be a success in both. Well done her.
10 INT. LIBRARY/HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
Mary is finishing ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World’. There’s some applause. Edith at the piano looks unconvinced.
EDITH: I wish we had a man.
MARY: Amen.
EDITH: It would sound so much richer. But all the volunteers are spoken for.
She starts to help Bryant unpack his conjuring tricks. Mary leaves. As she crosses the hall, Robert appears with Isis.
ROBERT: How’s it going?
MARY: All right, I suppose, if you don’t mind singers who can’t sing and actors who can’t act.
ROBERT: It helps to keep their spirits up.
MARY: So they say, although I can’t think why.
ROBERT: I had a letter this morning, from Sir Richard Carlisle.
MARY: Oh?
ROBERT: He tells me he proposed when he was staying here. He apologises for not asking my permission, but he’s asking it now. Have you decided? Is that why he’s written?
MARY: No. But I have made the decision.
ROBERT: Which is?
MARY: I think I should take him.
ROBERT: Do you really, my darling? I wish I could believe in your motives.
MARY: Why? What were your motives when you married Mama?
This is a blow below the belt.
ROBERT: Your mother has made me very happy.
MARY: Perhaps Sir Richard will make me very happy.
ROBERT: What about Matthew?
MARY: Not you, too. Poor Matthew. What must he do to persuade you he’s in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart?
ROBERT: Write to him. Tell him of your plans with Carlisle. You owe him that.
MARY: I don’t think I ‘owe’ him anything, but I’ll write to him, if you like.*
* Robert is reluctant to give up on Matthew for several reasons. One, he doesn’t really want Carlisle as a son-in-law. He thinks him brash and vulgar and unsympathetic. Two, he certainly does want Matthew as a son-in-law, because he would like his own bloodline to remain at the heart of the Grantham dynasty. And three, he knows his daughter, Mary, who is a great one for bringing down the portcullis. But I think where Hugh Bonneville is very clever is that he can play all of those elements at once, which is what you get good actors for.
11 INT. SMALL LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Cora is reading. Sybil, in her uniform, comes in from the main library, round the screen, and looks out of the window.
SYBIL: Where’s Branson going with an empty car?
CORA: He’s taking Isobel to the station.
SYBIL: She’s really leaving, then?
CORA: Apparently. She thinks she can do more good in France than here.
SYBIL: You sound as if you agree with her.
CORA: We needed a rest from each other.
SYBIL: It’s nice of you to send the car.
CORA: Your father thought it politic.
SYBIL: Then it was nice of him.
Her eyes are on the car and her thoughts are on the driver.
12 EXT. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Branson is loading a suitcase onto the car. Isobel is with Molesley and Mrs Bird.
ISOBEL: I’ll try to send you an address, but you can always get me through the Red Cross.
MOLESLEY: Very good, ma’am.
ISOBEL: And I’ll try to contact Captain Crawley, explain to him what’s happened. If he does get leave, he’ll probably come to me or stay in London, but if I miss him and he turns up here, I know you’ll look after him.
MRS BIRD: Of course I will, ma’am.
ISOBEL: Cook what he likes, not what’s good for him.
MRS BIRD: You don’t know when you’ll be back?
ISOBEL: I don’t think one ‘knows’ anything in wartime. I’ll try to give you warning. But in the meantime, look after yourselves. Now, I mustn’t miss my train.
She climbs into the car. Branson gets in and drives off.
MOLESLEY: So, what now?
13 INT. SYBIL’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Anna is leaving, when the door opens. Mary enters.
MARY: Ah, Anna said you were honouring us with your presence at dinner.
SYBIL: It’s easier here than the hospital. I can always get changed back into my uniform if I need to.*
She smiles at Anna who closes the door. They are alone.
MARY: What were you talking to Branson about when I came into the yard?
SYBIL: Nothing.
MARY: Then why were you there?
SYBIL: Why were you there?
MARY: Because I was ordering the motor. That is why one talks to chauffeurs, isn’t it? To plan journeys by road?
SYBIL: He is a person. He can discuss other things.
MARY: I’m sure he can. But not with you.
SYBIL: What do you want from me? Am I to see if Sir Richard Carlisle has a younger brother? One who’s even richer than he is?
MARY: Darling, what’s the matter with you? I’m on your side.
SYBIL: Then be on my side!†
* I didn’t want to have to keep going to the hospital every time we wanted to see Sybil. So, we have now transferred her, as a trained nurse, to the management of Downton, which gives her a slight edge over the other members of the family in this set-up.
† Here we have a very clear illustration that Mary is not insensitive, but she doesn’t understand why people limit their lives. And I must say, in that, she speaks for me. I don’t often understand when people make a choice that is going to limit their lives and their horizons tremendously. I’m not always, God knows, right about it, but when people marry husbands and wives who are never going to be able to meet the demands of what their lives could be – which these days, to be honest, is much more to do with temperament and personality and, above all, energy than rank – I don’t get it. You see people marrying those who are possessive, and unsocial, and challenged, and insecure, and even unpleasant, and you just think, can’t you see that this is a ball and chain you’re dragging down the aisle? In this instance, Mary doesn’t dislike Branson on any level, but, by marrying the chauffeur, Sybil is excluding a million possibilities from her own future. Now, I happen to think Sybil is one of those people – and they’re extremely rare – who can make that sort of choice and not regret it. But I don’t blame Mary for failing to see that straight away.
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
14 INT. MATTHEW’S DUG-OUT. NORTHERN FRANCE. DAY.
Matthew is reading a letter from Mary.
MARY (V.O.): ‘So there we have it. I look forward to introducing the two of you, just as soon as you are next at home. Which naturally I trust will be very soon indeed. Please be glad for me, as I will always be for you. Your affectionate cousin, Mary.’
Matthew is putting on his overcoat. William is there.
MATTHEW: We don’t need anyone with us. The Sergeant knows what we’re doing.
WILLIAM: But what are we patrolling for?
MATTHEW: You’ve been taking those logic pills again. This is the Army, Mason. We’re going on a patrol because we’re going on a patrol.
He sets the letter down. He looks at his desk, at Lavinia’s picture and Mary’s rabbit, which he pockets.
WILLIAM: Has Mary set a date yet for the wedding?
MATTHEW: She doesn’t say. I think she’s hoping the war will be over soon
, and they can set a date then.
WILLIAM: She could have waited and told you when she saw you.
MATTHEW: I don’t think she knows I’m due back. Did you warn Daisy, or will it be a surprise?
WILLIAM: No, I’ve told her we’re coming to Downton first. Then I’ll visit my dad and go back to see her for a day at the end.
MATTHEW: Just think. Fresh Yorkshire air, followed by London and Miss Swire.
WILLIAM: All right for some, sir.
MATTHEW: You’d never swap, though, would you?
WILLIAM: No, I’d never swap.
As William talks, he takes out two torches and gives one to Matthew, who puts it in his coat pocket.
MATTHEW: We’ll take them, but we should be back long before it’s dark.
15 EXT. KITCHEN COURTYARD. DOWNTON. DAY.
O’Brien and Thomas are smoking as they discuss the letter.
O’BRIEN: Bates in a pub? I can’t see that. I think your pal’s mistaken.
THOMAS: He met him here twice before the war. Listen: ‘I said to him, “Hello, Mr Bates,” and he walked off, and wouldn’t serve me after.’
Even O’Brien can see this is quite convincing. She thinks.
O’BRIEN: Next thing you know, we’ll have Anna running across the county and dragging him back by his stick.
THOMAS: I’m surprised he isn’t here of his own accord, with his lordship having no valet since the loony went.
O’BRIEN: Don’t speak ill of Mr Lang.
THOMAS: You’re a funny one. Talk about sweet and sour. Better get back.
They walk inside, revealing Daisy, gathering her herbs.
16 INT. HALL. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Molesley is hanging coats on the coat hooks. He stands back to admire the effect, then changes two over. Then sighs.
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