BATES: Yet another reason to pray for peace.
He looks at Daisy with sympathy.
BATES (CONT’D): I heard about William from his lordship. And Captain Crawley.
ANNA: I’m sure they’re all right.
BATES: Let’s hope so.
There is an awkward silence to this. But they are interrupted by the hurried arrival of Molesley. He carries a long gadget.
MOLESLEY: Sorry I’m late. Has the dressing gong rung yet?
MRS HUGHES: You’re not late, Mr Molesley, but you won’t be needed, after all.
MOLESLEY: Why not?
CARSON: Mr Bates is back. You reminded me. I’d better ring it now.
Carson leaves as Molesley walks up to Bates.
MOLESLEY: Are you staying for good?
BATES: I’d need a crystal ball to answer that, but I’ll stay for now. Have you been standing in for me?
MOLESLEY: I was going to. Starting tonight.
BATES: Then you’ll be relieved to see me.
MOLESLEY: Oh. Tremendously.
BATES: What’s that?
MOLESLEY: It’s a new kind of shoehorn. I bought it for his lordship…
BATES: That’s very kind of you, Mr Molesley. Thank you.
He holds out his hand and Molesley gives it up, bleakly. The gong sounds. Anna starts upstairs.
THOMAS: Daisy, fetch me some more tea.
DAISY: Thomas, I’ve got din—
THOMAS: Hot, this time! And it’s Sergeant Barrow to you!
He is joking, really, but she scuttles away. This has been witnessed by Mrs Hughes, although O’Brien only sees Bates, who is on his way out. They exit together.
O’BRIEN: Watch yourself, Mr Bates. Thomas is in charge now, and it won’t do to get on the wrong side of him.
BATES: Is there a right side?
END OF ACT THREE
ACT FOUR
47 INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
O’Brien is dressing Cora.
O’BRIEN: Is there any news on Captain Crawley?
CORA: Why? What news would there be?
O’Brien realises her mistress still knows nothing.
O’BRIEN: I’ve lost my train of thought…
CORA: Never mind. What else about Mrs Patmore?
O’BRIEN: I’ve nothing more to say. Beyond that I saw her with my own eyes.
CORA: I don’t believe it. Why would she sell food to Mrs Bird? It makes no sense.
O’BRIEN: Well, I can’t confirm the details of the arrangement. Maybe they both sell it and divide the proceeds. Either way, I felt you should know.
CORA: Have you said anything to Mrs Hughes? Or Carson?
O’BRIEN: I’ve tried with her, but there’s none so blind as them that will not see.
CORA: I’m curious. Next time, come and fetch me.
48 EXT. STABLE COURTYARD. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Branson’s put the car away for the night. He shuts the garage door. Sybil is hovering on the edge of the courtyard.
SYBIL: So Bates is back. Papa must be pleased.
BRANSON: And Mr Carson won’t be sorry… What is it?
Because she does look as if she needs to make a confession.
SYBIL: Branson, there is something you ought to know… I’ve told Mary.
BRANSON: I see. Well, that’s me finished then, without a reference.
SYBIL: No, she’s not like that. You don’t know her. She wouldn’t give us away.
BRANSON: But she won’t encourage us.
SYBIL: No. But she won’t give us away.
She is surprised, because he is smiling at her.
SYBIL (CONT’D): Why are you smiling? I thought you’d be angry.
BRANSON: Because that’s the first time you’ve ever spoken about ‘us’. If you didn’t care, you would have told them months ago.
SYBIL: Oh, I see. Because I don’t want you to lose your job, it must mean I’m madly in love with you.
BRANSON: Well, doesn’t it?
Naturally, she knows this may be true, but…
SYBIL: You say I’m a free spirit and I hope I am. But you’re asking me to give up my whole world and everyone in it.
BRANSON: And that’s too high a price to pay?
SYBIL: It is a high price. I love my parents — you don’t know them — and I love my sisters and my friends.
BRANSON: I’m not asking you to give them up forever. When they come around I will welcome them with open arms.
SYBIL: And what about your people? Would they accept me? Or would I always be the girl with the poisonous past? The Anglican aristo? The freak?* And what about my work?
BRANSON: What work? Bringing hot drinks to a lot of randy officers? This isn’t a hospital, it’s a holiday home.
At this, Sybil recoils slightly.
BRANSON (CONT’D): Look. It comes down to whether or not you love me. That’s all. That’s it. The rest is detail.
* I am sorry this bit was cut, although I cannot now remember how much of an argument I put up at the time. Not enough of one, obviously. The truth is, it would have been very difficult for Sybil to marry into an Irish republican family as the daughter of an English earl, and there is no doubt that some of them would have found such a marriage impossible to accept. I also like Sybil becoming more realistic about what she is headed for. Anyway…
49 EXT. KITCHEN COURTYARD. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Bates and Anna are together. She huddles in her coat.
BATES: I’ve written to Vera, spelling out the case and how she cannot win it. Then I have told her I will be generous, if she will cooperate.
ANNA: Has she answered?
BATES: Not yet. But I don’t want to harass her. There’s always a chance she’ll see sense. I may go up to London.
ANNA: Will you tell her you’re back in Yorkshire with me?
BATES: No. I’ve a friend in the Midlands who gets my post and forwards it. I don’t want her to know I’m here.
ANNA: But you’re ready to give her everything? Because I am.
BATES: Whatever it takes. I want a clean break, not an open wound. If we can just be patient a little while longer.
She nods and shivers. He holds her to him, tightly.
BATES (CONT’D): We shouldn’t be outside. It’s cold.
ANNA: I’ll be patient, and bear anything. Except for you to go away again.
BATES: No. That’s done. You’re stuck with me now. For good and proper.
50 INT. HALL/STAIRCASE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Mary is climbing the stairs as Edith comes into the hall.
EDITH: There’s something you ought to know. Papa said not to tell you, but I don’t think he’s right.
Mary has stopped on the staircase.
MARY: Go on.
EDITH: Matthew’s missing. At least, I’m not sure he’s officially missing yet, but they don’t know where he is. He was on patrol and he’s just sort of… vanished. Papa hasn’t told anyone. Not even Mama. I only know because I was there when he found out.
MARY: What can I do about it?
EDITH: Well… nothing. But it didn’t seem right to keep you in the dark. I’m not trying to upset you. Truly.
Mary answers as she climbs on up the stairs.
MARY: For once in my life, I believe you.
But at the top, as soon as she is out of sight, she bites her hand to stop herself from crying out.*
* Sibling rivalry, when brothers or sisters don’t get on, is very layered. If you don’t like someone in normal life, then you just don’t see them or have any communication, but in a family, as we all know, it’s much more complicated. As a rule, in films and novels, most siblings are loving and giving towards each other, but experience tells me this is not the case all that often. Of course, those families where the siblings, even in late middle age, have to ring each other five times a day are, if anything, even more difficult to deal with than a tribe at war.
51 INT. CORRIDOR. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Mary approaches and star
es at Anna, who is waiting for her.
ANNA: They’ve told you, then?
MARY: Do they all know downstairs?
Anna nods.
ANNA: William’s missing, too. I think everyone knows except her ladyship.
MARY: I wish Edith had left it ’til the morning. I could have faced it all with one more night of sleep.
52 INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Robert is climbing into bed.
CORA: Can you go to the Shackletons’ tomorrow on your own? I’ve got a mountain of letters to get through.
ROBERT: It seems rather rude.
CORA: Don’t be stuffy. I’ll telephone and say I’ve caught a cold.
ROBERT: I hate going to things without you.
CORA: That’s sweet, but there’s a war on, in case you hadn’t noticed. We can’t have it all our own way.
But something in his expression prompts her next question.
CORA (CONT’D): You look very preoccupied.
ROBERT: I was just thinking about Matthew.
CORA: Has something happened to Matthew? Only O’Brien was asking after him.
He looks at her and again decides not to trouble her.
ROBERT: Not that I know of.
CORA: How many parents and guardians are staring at the ceiling right now, worrying about their boys?
ROBERT: That is a moving thought, but not a very comforting one.
He turns out the light.
53 EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Cora and O’Brien hover while Mrs Patmore and Daisy, carrying baskets, go inside with Mrs Bird, past the waiting men.
O’BRIEN: See? They’re queuing up to buy it.
54 INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
In the kitchen, Mrs Bird, Mrs Patmore, Daisy and Molesley are setting up the line, with bread, fruit and stew.
CORA: May we come in?
The others are stunned as she and O’Brien enter.
MRS PATMORE: Your ladyship… What a surprise.
CORA: O’Brien seemed to think that you and Mrs Bird were engaged in a commercial venture of some sort. So I came to see for myself.
MRS BIRD: We are not, your ladyship!
CORA: I agree that’s not what it looks like.
MRS PATMORE: We feed these men once a week, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’ll be back before luncheon at the big house.
CORA: I’m sure. But is it true they are fed from our kitchens?
Now, this is harder to get indignant about.
DAISY: It’s only the stuff the Army gives. They are soldiers.
O’BRIEN: What did I tell you?
MRS BIRD: Mrs Patmore brings the meat here on Tuesdays, and the bread and fruit on the day we serve it.
CORA: Quite a little assembly line.
MRS PATMORE: Daisy’s right. We only use the food the Army pay for. And all the men have served their country.
O’BRIEN: So, are you going to report them?
CORA: No, I’m not going to report them. Although in future, I would prefer it if you would use food paid for by the house. I don’t want the Army to accuse us of mismanagement.
O’BRIEN: You mean you’re going to let them get away with it?
CORA: Oh, more than that. I’m going to help them, and so are you. Molseley, if you bring that table over, I suggest we divide the food and then we can form two lines and then we’ll go faster. Molesley, you’ll do that for us, won’t you?
MOLESLEY: Certainly, m’lady.
MRS BIRD: So you still have your uses after all.
He accepts this with resignation, as Cora finalises her plan.
CORA: O’Brien? You can manage the bread. Daisy?*
DAISY: Of course, m’lady.
Daisy throws open the doors to the first of the old soldiers.
* You will notice that, for Cora, O’Brien is O’Brien, and is never called by her first name, but Daisy is Daisy. It was all to do with rank. A lady’s maid was called by her surname, housemaids, kitchen maids, almost every other female worker, was called by their Christian name. Even when a housemaid – the head housemaid, usually – maided women who were staying (but had no maid of their own), this did not change. In many houses, as in this one, the head housemaid would maid the daughters, as Anna does the girls. But she is not their lady’s maid; she is the head housemaid, who maids the daughters as one of her duties. It is only when Anna is promoted to be Mary’s proper lady’s maid that we have all the dialogue about whether or not she should be called Bates, and they eventually decide they can’t call her Bates, because Bates is already called Bates. But it is a compromise and it has to be discussed. The butler used his surname, and so did the ladies’ maids. The maids and the footmen had Christian names, and the exceptions were the housekeeper and the cook, who used their surname, but with the prefix of Mrs, whether they were married or not. You may ask why this privilege was not enjoyed by ladies’ maids. The answer is, I know not, but these rules were established and universal.
55 INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.
Clarkson is in search of Thomas.
CLARKSON: Sergeant. One moment.
Thomas joins him. The doctor speaks softly.
CLARKSON (CONT’D): I hear you’re becoming mighty imperious in your manner with the staff here, Daisy in particular. Just because you’re a poacher turned gamekeeper, there’s no need for rudeness.
THOMAS: No, sir.
CLARKSON: So mind what I say. Carry on.
Thomas leaves, as Clarkson approaches Mrs Hughes.
CLARKSON (CONT’D): I’ve done as you asked, Mrs Hughes. I think Barrow’s taken it on board.
MRS HUGHES: He’s getting grander than Lady Mary, and that’s saying something.
Cora passes by.
CLARKSON: Lady Grantham.
CORA: Hello, Doctor Clarkson.
56 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
O’Brien has put down her sewing as she commiserates.
O’BRIEN: It was Bates. I saw him watching you. He must have gone straight to the Major and sneaked on you the moment your back was turned.
THOMAS: Oh, well. Some things never change.
O’BRIEN: Don’t worry. He’s more vulnerable than when he was last here.
THOMAS: Why?
O’BRIEN: Because we know more. That’s why.
57 INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Robert is with Cora. They have changed for the evening.
CORA: Why haven’t you told me ’til now?
ROBERT: I’m not sure. Perhaps I envied your ignorance.
CORA: I’m not giving up hope. Not yet.
ROBERT: Nor me, of course. But I think we should start to prepare.
CORA: Isobel doesn’t know?
ROBERT: I haven’t been able to reach her.
CORA: Have you said anything to Mary?
MARY (V.O.): Edith’s already told me.
She is in the doorway, also changed.
ROBERT: Has she? Well, I suppose it was too tempting to resist.
MARY: Oddly enough, I don’t think she was trying to make trouble…
Cora glances at the clock on the mantelshelf.
CORA: We ought to go down. It’s time for the concert.
MARY: Who cares about the stupid concert?
ROBERT: The men do, and we should, too. Because we have to keep going, whatever happens. We have to help each other to keep going.
Cora and Robert leave. Mary is alone for a moment. She stares at her reflection in the glass. She is in hell. She takes a deep breath, pushes her shoulders back and follows them out.
58 INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
A conjuring act is in progress. Major Bryant is doing tricks with help from Edith. They are not very good. The audience is made up of the convalescents and the staff. They are more enthusiastic than the performance deserves.* The wheelchairs are in the first row, with the others behind them. Clarkson is there and the family, including Violet, but Sybil, in her uniform, is with
the other nurses. Violet sees her and turns to Robert, speaking under her breath.
VIOLET: I don’t know what it is about Sybil these days, but somehow she can’t even look at her watch without making a statement.
ROBERT: I think it’s a fairly benign one.
VIOLET: Cora tells me Matthew’s gone missing. Is that true?
ROBERT: There’s no proof of anything yet.
VIOLET: I see. Well, I need more than that to make me anxious.
ROBERT: I’m glad you would be anxious.
VIOLET: Of course I would be. We’re used to Matthew now, and God knows who the next heir will be. Probably a chimney sweep from Solihull.
Branson edges over from the servants to the nurses.
BRANSON: I was harsh with you, the other night. To speak slightingly of your work. I’d no right to do that.
SYBIL: No, you didn’t.
BRANSON: It’s just that when I look at you, not being sure if you’re mine, I feel I may explode.
He is whispering under the applause, but her expression catches Mary’s attention. Edith signals to Mary it’s time.
MARY: Most of you won’t know how rare it is to see my sister, Edith, and I pulling together in a double act —
CORA: A unicorn if ever there was one.
MARY: But in wartime, we, like all of you, have more important things to worry about. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Crawley Sisters.
VIOLET: Well, now I’ve seen everything.
Mary joins Edith at the piano. Edith starts to play.
MARY: ‘Sometimes when I feel bad and things look blue; I wish a pal I had… say one like you; Someone within my heart to build a throne; Someone who’d never part, to call my own…’*
Now they both gesture to the audience and they all sing.
MARY AND AUDIENCE: ‘If you were the only girl in the world and I were the only boy; Nothing else would matter in the world today; We could go on loving in the same old way…’
At that moment, there is a movement at the door and Matthew Crawley walks in, followed by William. Mary stops singing. Noticing this, the men gradually stop, too.
AUDIENCE: ‘A garden of Eden just made for two; With nothing to mar our joy…’
Mary does not speak, but she murmurs under her breath.
MARY: Thank God.
There is a moment of complete silence and then Matthew, aware that he has stifled the fun, appeals to them.
MATTHEW: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.
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