CARSON: There is no reason why the eldest daughter and heiress of the Earl of Grantham should not wear a duchess’s coronet with honour.
MRS HUGHES: Heiress, Mr Carson? Has it been decided then?
CARSON: It will be, if there’s any justice in the world.
He looks up at the board. The dining room bell is still.
MRS HUGHES: We’ll know soon enough.
MRS PATMORE: What are you doing, Anna?
Anna is bringing in a plate of hot food for a laid tray.
ANNA: I thought I’d take something up to Mr Bates, him not being well enough to come down. You don’t mind, do you, Mrs Hughes?
MRS HUGHES: I don’t mind. Not this once.
CARSON: Take him whatever he might need.
Carson is obviously embarrassed. He addresses the company.
CARSON (CONT’D): Mr Bates is leaving without a stain on his character. I hope you all observe that in the manner of your parting.
WILLIAM: I don’t see why he has to go. I don’t mind doing a bit of extra—
THOMAS: It’s not up to you. I’ll take care of his lordship tonight, shall I, Mr Carson?
CARSON: Not when you’re looking after the Duke, you won’t. I’ll see to his lordship, myself.
Which annoys Thomas.
75 INT. ATTICS. NIGHT.
Anna, with her tray, is outside Bates’s door which is ajar.
76 INT. BATES’S ROOM. NIGHT.
She comes round the door. Bates is slumped forward, his head in both his hands, crying. Silently, she retreats.
77 INT. ATTICS. NIGHT.
Anna walks a little way away.
ANNA: Mr Bates! Are you there?
She draws nearer and knocks. The door opens. Bates stands there. He has rubbed away the tears but his eyes are red.
ANNA (CONT’D): I brought something up. In case you were hungry.
BATES: That’s very kind.
He takes the tray from her. Neither of them moves.
ANNA: I’m ever so sorry you’re going.
BATES: I’ll be all right.
ANNA: Of course you will. There’s always a place for a man like you.
Which is a compliment. He is gentler now.
BATES: Oh yes. Something’ll turn up.
ANNA: Tell us when you’re fixed. Just drop us a line. Else I’ll worry.
BATES: Well, we can’t have that.
He smiles sadly but he doesn’t promise. He shuts the door. The door closes. Anna walks down the corridor.
END OF ACT FIVE
ACT SIX
78 INT. DINING ROOM. NIGHT.
The candles burn low. Robert and Crowborough are still there. The cigar smoke swirls and coils around them. Robert rises.
ROBERT: We must go through and let the servants get in here.
CROWBOROUGH: I should be grateful if we could stay for just a minute more. I have something to ask you.
Robert nods and sits down again.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT’D): I was terribly sorry to hear about your cousins.
ROBERT: You said. Did you know them?
CROWBOROUGH: Not well. I used to see Patrick Crawley at the odd thing.
He hesitates. There is a sort of tension in the air.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT’D): I imagine it will mean some adjustments for all of you … To lose two heirs in one night … It’s terrible.
ROBERT: Indeed. It was terrible.
CROWBOROUGH: Awful. But then again, it’s an ill wind …
He half smiles at Robert who is not making this easier.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT’D): At least Lady Mary’s prospects must have rather improved.
ROBERT: Have they?
CROWBOROUGH: Haven’t they?
Robert gives himself another glass of port as he looks at the greedy fortune-hunter. Is it right that Downton should be broken up and destroyed for this nonentity? It is not.
ROBERT: I will not be coy and pretend I do not understand your meaning, though you seem very informed on this family’s private affairs.
Now it is Crowborough’s turn to be silent.
ROBERT (CONT’D): But you ought perhaps to know that I do not intend to fight the entail. Not any part of it.
CROWBOROUGH: You can’t be serious.
ROBERT: It pains me to say it, but I am.
CROWBOROUGH: You’ll give up your entire estate? Your wife’s money into the bargain, to a perfect stranger? You won’t even put up a fight?
He is too angry to be discreet.
ROBERT: I hope he proves perfect but I rather doubt it.
CROWBOROUGH: Ha. It is an odd thing to joke about.
ROBERT: No odder than this conversation. So there you have it. But Mary will still have her settlement, which you won’t find ungenerous.
CROWBOROUGH: I’m sorry?
ROBERT: I mean only that her portion, on her marriage, will be more than respectable. You’ll be pleased, I promise.
An expression of concern crosses the younger man’s face.
CROWBOROUGH: Oh, heavens. I hope I haven’t given the wrong impression …
ROBERT: You know very well the impression you’ve given.
CROWBOROUGH: My dear Lord Grantham—
ROBERT: Don’t ‘my dear Lord Grantham’ me! You knew what you were doing when you came here. You’ve encouraged Mary, all of us, to think—
CROWBOROUGH: Forgive me, but I came to express my sympathies and my friendship. Nothing more. Lady Mary is a charming person. Whoever marries her will be a lucky man. He will not, however, be me.
ROBERT: I see. And what was it that you asked me to stay behind to hear?
Crowborough and Robert lock eyes.
CROWBOROUGH: I … I forget.
79 INT. HALL. NIGHT.
Robert walks on through, without a backward glance, but Crowborough hesitates, then starts towards the staircase. He takes one of the candles on the table by the staircase, and lights it.
MARY (V.O.): Aren’t you coming into the drawing room?
She is standing in the shadows. Waiting.
CROWBOROUGH: I’m tired. I think I’ll just slip away. Please make my excuses.
MARY: I’m afraid I’ve worn you out. Tomorrow, we can just—
CROWBOROUGH: I’m leaving in the morning.
He stares at her. They both know what this means.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT’D): Good night. Oh, you might tell that footman …
MARY: Thomas.
CROWBOROUGH: Thomas. You might tell him I’ve gone up.
He goes.
EDITH: So he slipped the hook.
She is in a doorway, watching. A smile plays on her lips.
MARY: At least I’m not fishing with no bait.
She walks past her sister towards the drawing room. But there are tears on her cheeks which she wipes away angrily.
80 INT. CROWBOROUGH’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
Thomas hangs a dressing gown in a wardrobe.
THOMAS: I don’t believe that!
What is strange is that he’s clearly speaking to a social equal. Who turns out to be the Duke of Crowborough.
CROWBOROUGH: Well, believe what you like. He won’t break the entail. The unknown cousin gets everything and Mary’s inheritance will be the same as it always was.
THOMAS: How was I to know? When the lawyer turned up, I thought—
CROWBOROUGH: You couldn’t have known and you were right to send the telegram. But it’s not going to come off.
THOMAS: So what now?
CROWBOROUGH: You know how I’m fixed. I must have an heiress, if I have to go to New York to find one.
THOMAS: What about me?
This is amazing. Thomas kneels to remove Crowborough’s shoes.*
CROWBOROUGH: You … you will wish me well.
THOMAS: You said you’d find me a job if I wanted to leave.
CROWBOROUGH: And do you?
THOMAS: I want to be a valet. I’m sick of being a footman.
CROWBOROUGH: But I have a valet. I thoug
ht you were trying to get rid of the new one here.
THOMAS: I’ve done it. But I’m not sure Carson’s gonna let me take over.
He approaches the Duke.
THOMAS (CONT’D): And I want to be with you.
They embrace.
CROWBOROUGH: I can’t see it working. We don’t seem to have the basis of a servant—master relationship?
He kisses his fingers.
THOMAS: You came here to be with me.
CROWBOROUGH: Among other reasons. But one swallow doesn’t make a summer.
THOMAS: Aren’t you forgetting something?
His voice has got quite nasty. But Crowborough smiles.
CROWBOROUGH: What? Are you threatening me?
Thomas’s silence appears to confirm that he is.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT’D): Because of a youthful dalliance? A few weeks of madness in a London Season? You wouldn’t hold that against me, surely?
THOMAS: I would if I have to.
CROWBOROUGH: Who’d believe a greedy footman against the word of a duke? If you’re not very careful, you’ll end up behind bars.
THOMAS: I’ve got proof.
The Duke opens a drawer and brings out a bundle of letters.
CROWBOROUGH: You mean these?
Thomas lunges, but Crowborough’s quick. He hurls them into the fire and holds Thomas in an arm lock. The letters burn.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT’D): I’m grateful. My mother’s always telling me never to put anything in writing and now, thanks to you, I never will again.
THOMAS: How did you get them, you bastard?
CROWBOROUGH: Don’t be a bad loser, Thomas. Go to bed. Unless you want to stay.
With a withering look, the footman leaves. But Crowborough doesn’t mind. He’s on to the next adventure.
81 INT. MRS HUGHES’S SITTING ROOM. NIGHT.
Mrs Hughes is sitting by her fire when Carson looks in.
CARSON: I think I’ll turn in.
MRS HUGHES: No big announcement, then?
CARSON: No. Nor likely to be. He’s off on the nine o’clock train.
MRS HUGHES: He never is! And when we’ve had a turkey killed for tomorrow’s dinner!
CARSON: Thomas says he’s packed already.
MRS HUGHES: I wonder what she did wrong.
CARSON: She did nothing wrong! Not from the way his lordship was talking.
MRS HUGHES: So His Grace turned out to be graceless?
But Carson doesn’t find these things funny.
CARSON: Goodnight, Mrs Hughes.
MRS HUGHES: Goodnight, Mr Carson.
82 INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
Robert and Cora are in bed.
CORA: If you knew that was your decision why put Mary through it?
ROBERT: I didn’t know it was my decision, my final decision, until tonight. But I find I cannot ruin the estate and hollow out the title, for the sake of Mary, even with a better man than that.
CORA: I try to understand. I just can’t.
ROBERT: Why should you? Downton is in my blood and in my bones. It’s not in yours. And I can no more be the cause of its destruction than I could betray my country.
She feels a mixture of admiration and irritation.
ROBERT (CONT’D): Besides, how was I to know he wouldn’t take her without the money?
CORA: Don’t pretend to be a child because it suits you.
ROBERT: Do you think she would’ve been happy with a fortune-hunter?
CORA: She might’ve been. I was.
This admission of the unspoken brings Robert up short. After a beat, he sits on the bed and takes her hand.
ROBERT: Have you been happy? Really? Have I made you happy?
CORA: Yes. That is, since you fell in love with me.
She is playing with him a little, but she does love him.
CORA (CONT’D): Which if I remember correctly was about a year after we married.
ROBERT: Not a year. Not as long as that.
He raises her hand to his lips. Then …
ROBERT (CONT’D): But it wouldn’t have happened for Mary.
CORA: Why not?
ROBERT: Because I’m so much nicer than the Duke of Crowborough.
CORA: I’ll be the judge of that.
These two are well suited. She lowers the lamp wick, blows it out and settles down.
CORA (CONT’D): But don’t think I’m going to let it rest, Robert. I haven’t given up by any means.
ROBERT: I must do what my conscience tells me.
CORA: And so must I. And I don’t want you to think I’ll let it rest.
With a sigh, he blows out his lamp.
83 INT. HALL. DAY.
Carson is crossing the hall when he sees Robert.
CARSON: Would it be acceptable for Bates to ride in front with Taylor? Otherwise, it means getting the other car out. He and His Grace are catching the same train.
ROBERT: Perfectly acceptable. And if His Grace doesn’t like it, he can lump it.
Carson almost smiles as he goes off to sort this out.
84 EXT. DOWNTON ABBEY. DAY.
Crowborough is leaving. He stands with Cora at the door.
CROWBOROUGH: You’ve been so kind, Lady Grantham. Thank you.
CORA: Goodbye, Duke.
Her voice is cold. She holds out her hand stiffly.
CROWBOROUGH: You’ll make my farewells to your delightful daughters?
CORA: They’d have been down if they’d known you were leaving so soon.
CROWBOROUGH: Alas, something’s come up which has taken me quite by surprise.
CORA: Obviously.
Robert now emerges from the main door, with Pharaoh.
CROWBOROUGH: Well, Grantham, this has been a highly enjoyable interlude.
ROBERT: Has it? And I feared it had proved a disappointment.
CROWBOROUGH: Not at all, not at all. A short stay in your lovely house has driven away my cares.
He catches Thomas’s eye as the latter is strapping on the luggage. The other servants are in attendance. Taylor, the chauffeur, stands by the open door.
TAYLOR: We ought to go, m’lord. If His Grace is to catch the train.
Robert walks over to Bates, who is by the car.
ROBERT: Goodbye, Bates. And good luck.
BATES: Good luck to you, m’lord.
Crowborough has climbed in. The chauffeur shuts the door and gets in, as does Bates. The car is moving off, when—
ROBERT: Wait!
The car stops. Robert runs forward, opening Bates’s door and pulling the case off the valet’s lap.
ROBERT (CONT’D): Get out, Bates.
CROWBOROUGH: I don’t want to be late.
Robert ignores him, holding the door. A shocked Carson runs forward to close the door after Bates. Taylor drives off.
ROBERT: Get back inside. And we’ll say no more about it.
Bates takes his case and goes. Robert looks at his butler.
ROBERT (CONT’D): It wasn’t right, Carson. I just didn’t think it was right.
On the steps, Cora looks on this with resignation and goes inside. Carson shepherds the other servants away. Thomas and O’Brien are in a rage. Anna is delighted. The others are mainly just curious.
85 EXT. CRAWLEY HOUSE. MANCHESTER. DAY.
A large, suburban villa. The postman walks down the path.
86 INT. CRAWLEY DINING ROOM. MANCHESTER. DAY.
This is a pleasant room. A handsome woman in her fifties, Isobel Crawley, is eating breakfast with her son, Matthew, who reads a paper. A maid carries in letters on a salver.
MAID: First post, ma’am.
ISOBEL: Thank you, Ellen.
She takes them, holding one out to Matthew. He opens it and reads. He looks astonished.
MATTHEW: It’s from Lord Grantham.
ISOBEL: Really? What on earth does he want?
He scans the letter a little more.
MATTHEW: He wants to change our lives.
They digest this extraordinary
remark together.
END OF EPISODE ONE
EPISODE TWO
ACT ONE
1 INT/EXT. MOTOR CAR/CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON. DAY.
Matthew and Isobel Crawley are being driven by Taylor. The car turns into a gate.
TAYLOR: Here we are, ma’am. This is Crawley House.*
MATTHEW: For good or ill.
Isobel gives him a sharp look as the car comes to a halt and Taylor gets out. They speak in lowered tones.
* * *
MATTHEW (CONT’D): I’m still not sure we’ve done the right thing. Why are we here?
ISOBEL: For the thousandth time, we’re here because you will inherit a great position for which you are completely unprepared. Would you rather arrive in twenty years’ time as an ignorant stranger?
* * *
Taylor opens her door, and she climbs out. Matthew gets out and joins her on the far side, as Taylor unstraps the bags.
MATTHEW: I still don’t see why I couldn’t just refuse it.
ISOBEL: There is no mechanism for you to do so! You will be an earl. You will inherit the estate. Of course you can throw it away when you have it, that’s up to you.†
* * *
MATTHEW: And do you approve?
ISOBEL: Whether I approve is neither here nor there. It will happen.
* * *
A butler, Alfred Molesley, has come out of the front door but he hangs back, seeing they are talking. Now Matthew turns to him.
MATTHEW: Can I help …?
* * *
MOLESLEY: I’m Molesley, sir. Your butler and valet.
MATTHEW: I thought we were to be looked after by Ellen and Mrs Bird.
* * *
MOLESLEY: Lady Grantham employed me, sir.
MATTHEW: Mr Molesley, I’m afraid—
ISOBEL: May I introduce ourselves? I am Mrs Crawley and this is my son, Mr Matthew Crawley.
Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Page 6
