In the laugh that follows, William notices Daisy smiling at him. He finds it surprisingly encouraging.
* * *
13 INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Robert and Cora are in bed. She is trying to read.
ROBERT: But if he must work, it should be politics. He could build on it when he goes to the Lords.
CORA: He trained for the law.
ROBERT: Well, I don’t know what the local people will make of it.
CORA: I can’t see why he has the right to your estates or to my money. But I refuse to condemn him for wanting an honest job.
ROBERT: Really, Cora. Just because you dislike my mother, there’s no need to turn into Mark Twain.
He blows out his lamp and settles down for the night.
* * *
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
14 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DAY.
A new day. Carson is checking the account books, when William appears, carrying an envelope.
WILLIAM: This was at the back door.
CARSON: Thank you, William.
The footman goes as he opens the letter. One glance is enough to make him stand, take his hat and hurry away.
15 EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Bates is walking back through the village when, across the road some way ahead, he sees Carson hurrying along. He vanishes into the pub. Bates is rather surprised. He walks on, past a sign announcing the cottage hospital.
16 INT. WARD. VILLAGE HOSPITAL. DAY.
Isobel is in a ward, with Doctor Richard Clarkson.
CLARKSON: It’s kind of you to take an interest.
ISOBEL: I’m afraid it’s a case of the warhorse and the drum. You know my late husband was a doctor?
CLARKSON: I do. I’m familiar with Doctor Crawley’s work on the symptoms of infection in children.
* * *
ISOBEL: My father was also in medicine, Sir John Turnbull, and my brother is Doctor Edward Turnbull.*
* * *
He acknowledges her provenance.
ISOBEL (CONT’D): Even I studied nursing during the South African War.
They have come to a bed which is screened off. A young woman is being helped away by a nurse. Isobel looks enquiringly at her companion. Clarkson lowers his voice.
CLARKSON: Very distressing. A young farmer, John Drake, a tenant of Lord Grantham’s. He came in today. It’s dropsy, I’m afraid.*
ISOBEL: May I see him?
Clarkson is surprised but he moves back the screens. A young man of about thirty is sitting up against pillows, his skin grey, his legs twice their normal size. He looks up.
ISOBEL: I hope you’re not too uncomfortable, Mr Drake.
But the patient cannot speak, and instead only wheezes muffled words until he starts to cough violently and when he takes away the handkerchief, it’s thick with blood.
17 EXT. VILLAGE HOSPITAL. DAY.
Isobel and the Doctor are together.
ISOBEL: Is the dropsy of the liver or the heart?
CLARKSON: Everything points to the heart. There is a good deal of fluid around it.
ISOBEL: You mean an effusion.
CLARKSON: Forgive me. I keep forgetting I am talking to a medical expert.
The touch of irony is not lost on Isobel.
ISOBEL: What will happen to his wife?
CLARKSON: She may try to keep the farm on. Grantham is not a harsh landlord. But her children are young …
ISOBEL: What can I do to help?
Clarkson hesitates.
ISOBEL: If I’m to live in this village, I must have an occupation. Please. Let me be useful.
CLARKSON: It will take a lot to keep him comfortable. If you could look in from time to time, and relieve my nurses I should be very grateful.
18 INT. DRESSING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
* * *
Molesley’s staring out of the window, as Bates comes in. He looks round, leaning on his stick. Nothing is out of place.
BATES: Very tidy, I must say.
MOLESLEY: That’s how he leaves it.
Molesley shrugs. He is clearly despondent.
* * *
MOLESLEY (CONT’D): He chooses his clothes himself. He puts them out at night and hangs the ones he’s worn … I get to take the linen down to the laundry, but that’s about all.
BATES: That’s all?
MOLESLEY: I’ll do this, he says, and I’ll take the other and I’ll tie that. And I’m just stood there like a chump watching a man get dressed. To be honest, Mr Bates, I don’t see the point of it.*
* * *
BATES: Don’t tell Thomas. He’s jealous enough already.
BATES: What about the butlering?
MOLESLEY: The food’s on the sideboard, and he keeps the wine on the table so he can pour it himself. It’s like an all-day breakfast.
* * *
19 EXT. GARDENS. DOWNTON. DAY.
Robert is walking with Violet.
ROBERT: I thought you didn’t like him.
VIOLET: Well, so what? I have plenty of friends I don’t like.
ROBERT: Would you want Mary to marry one of them?
VIOLET: Why do you always have to pretend to be nicer than the rest of us?
ROBERT: Perhaps I am.
VIOLET: Then pity your wife whose fortune must go to this odd young man, with his ‘weekends’ and ‘jobs’. If Mary were to marry him then all would be resolved.
They’ve reached the house. Thomas stands to attention.
20 INT. ANNA’S AND GWEN’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Anna comes in. Gwen has been reading something and now she hurriedly stuffs it into a folder along with other papers.
ANNA: What have you got there?
She starts to undress.
GWEN: Nothing.
ANNA: What kind of nothing? You haven’t got an admirer?
GWEN: I might have. Why shouldn’t I?
ANNA: Don’t tell Mrs Hughes or she’ll bring the vicar round to have you exorcised.
GWEN: How are we supposed to find husbands if we’re never allowed to see any men?
ANNA: Perhaps she thinks the stork brings them. What’s he like?
* * *
Gwen is puzzled until Anna nods at the folder.
GWEN: Oh. He’s … all right.
ANNA: Don’t trust me then.
* * *
During this, Anna, then Gwen, change into nightdresses, wash with a jug and basin on a table, and climb into bed.
ANNA: Lady Mary’s in for a surprise. Thomas was in the library when old Violet came in from the garden. Seems they want to fix her up with Mr Crawley.
GWEN: Well, it makes sense. And she was going to marry Mr Patrick.
ANNA: Would she have, though? When it came to it? That’s the question.
And she blows out the candle.
21 INT. HALL. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
As Matthew enters, Molesley steps in to take his coat but Matthew shrugs it off and hangs it up. His mother arrives.
ISOBEL: There you are, dear. I was hoping you’d be home in time.
MATTHEW: In time for what?
ISOBEL: I have been paid the compliment of a visit.
Her eyes give him a warning.
22 INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
Violet, in a marvellous hat, sits with an equally elegant Cora. The others enter. Molesley is serving tea.
CORA: Good afternoon, Cousin Matthew. We were just saying how charming this room is now.
VIOLET: It always seemed rather dark when my mother-in-law lived here, but then she made everything dark.*
Violet chuckles. She laughs pleasantly. Molesley has brought a plate over.
MOLESLEY: Sir.
MATTHEW: No, thank you.
MOLESLEY: A cup of tea, sir?
MATTHEW: It’s all right. I’ll help myself.
He goes to the tea table to fetch one. Violet takes pity.
VIOLET: So, Molesley, how does it feel to be home aga
in? Your father must be glad you’re back.†
MOLESLEY: He is, your ladyship.
VIOLET: Might I give you this cup? Then we really must be going.
Molesley takes Violet’s cup. They walk into the hall.
ISOBEL: Thank you.
CORA: You’ll think about it?
Isobel nods, as they all follow Violet out.
* * *
23 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
The servants are also having tea. Anna’s trying to get a mark out of a shirt while O’Brien discusses the new family.
O’BRIEN: He’s only a third cousin. What does that mean? I might be ‘third cousin’ to the King.
BATES: Or a trapeze artist.
ANNA: Or a mass murderer.
O’BRIEN: All right.
She hates their teasing. Anna turns to show Gwen the stain.
ANNA: What do you think that is?
GWEN: I don’t know. Milk?
Anna sniffs it.
ANNA: I’ll try it with some water and see what happens.
She stands and leaves, taking the shirt with her.
24 INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
Isobel, Matthew and Molesley are back.
MATTHEW: Thank you. We can manage now.
Molesley, defeated, goes and they are alone.
MATTHEW (CONT’D): What was all that about? And why were they spooning over Molesley?
ISOBEL: They weren’t ‘spooning’. They were trying to be nice, because you were so rude to him.
MATTHEW: What?
ISOBEL: They thought you’d made him look a fool, and they were right. Now, never mind that. I need help with your father’s books.
He’s upset but he’s missed his moment to challenge her.
* * *
25 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. DAY.
Anna is alone in the kitchens, working at the shirt with a damp cloth, when she hears a noise from one of the larders. She walks to the door. Carson is filling a bag, which he drops at the sight of her. Fruit, meat and bread roll out.
Carson acknowledges Anna.
CARSON: I thought no one was here.
He bends down and gathers up the contents into the bag.
ANNA: Can I help, Mr Carson?
CARSON: No, no, thank you, Anna.
But he is agitated as he takes the bag and hurries away.
26 INT. WARD. VILLAGE HOSPITAL. DAY.
Isobel is sitting with Drake, sponging off his swollen legs which are weeping straw-coloured fluid. Clarkson looks in.
CLARKSON: Hard at work, I see.
ISOBEL: May I borrow your stethoscope, Doctor? Just for a moment.
He is a little taken aback but he gives it to her. She now addresses the patient, John Drake.
ISOBEL (CONT’D): May I?
He nods weakly and she listens to his chest. She gestures for the doctor to come away and speak to her.
CLARKSON: I must compliment you, Mrs Crawley. When you made your offer, I thought you might be a ‘Great Lady Nurse’ and faint at the sight of blood. But I see you’re made of sterner stuff.
ISOBEL: It’s definitely the heart. It’s almost too quiet to hear at all.
CLARKSON: I’m afraid so.
ISOBEL: I’ve been thinking about the treatments that are available.
Clarkson isn’t quite sure he is pleased by this.
ISOBEL (CONT’D): Considerable success has been achieved in the last few years by draining the pericardial sac of the excess fluid and administering adrenaline—
CLARKSON: Mrs Crawley, I appreciate your thoroughness …
ISOBEL: But you’re unwilling to try it.
CLARKSON: Injection of adrenaline is a comparatively new procedure.
ISOBEL: It was a while ago now, but I saw my husband do it. I know how.*
CLARKSON: Please, Mrs Crawley. Don’t force me to be uncivil. We would be setting an impossible precedent. When every villager could demand the latest fad in treatment, for each new cut and graze.
ISOBEL: I would remind you we are not talking of a cut or a graze, but of the loss of a man’s life and the ruin of his family.
CLARKSON: Of course. And I don’t mean to be flippant. But I beg you to see that it is not … reasonable.
Isobel is anything but convinced.
27 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
They’re having tea. O’Brien holds forth as Anna returns.
O’BRIEN: I’m sorry but I have standards.
During this Anna is speaking to Bates in a low voice.
ANNA: I’ve just seen something ever so odd.
BATES: What sort of odd?
O’BRIEN: And if anyone thinks I’m going to pull my forelock and curtsey to this Mr Nobody from Nowhere—
CORA (V.O.): O’Brien!
Cora is in the doorway. They scramble to their feet. O’Brien is slower than the others. She stares at Cora.
CORA: Were you discussing Mr Crawley?
O’BRIEN: Yes, m’lady.
CORA: Is it your place to do so?
O’BRIEN: I’ve got my opinions, m’lady. Same as anybody.
Now Mrs Hughes has appeared, flustered by Cora’s presence.
MRS HUGHES: Can I help your ladyship?
CORA: This is the button we’re missing from my new evening coat. I found it lying on the gravel.
Mrs Hughes takes the button, puzzled by the atmosphere.
CORA (CONT’D): But I was shocked at the talk I heard as I came in. Mr Crawley is his lordship’s cousin and heir. You will therefore please accord him the respect he’s entitled to.
O’BRIEN: But you don’t like him, yourself, m’lady. You never wanted him to come here. I remember distinctly—
CORA: You’re sailing perilously close to the wind, O’Brien. If we’re to be friends, you will not speak in that way again about the Crawleys or any member of Lord Grantham’s family. Now I’m going up to rest. Wake me at the dressing gong.
O’Brien gives a slight nod. Cora goes.
THOMAS: I don’t think that’s fair. Not here in the Servants’ Hall.
O’BRIEN: I agree. If she was a real lady she wouldn’t have come down here. She’d have rung for me, and given me the button. That’s all.
THOMAS: This isn’t her territory. We can say what we like, down here.
MRS HUGHES: Who says?
THOMAS: The law. And Parliament. There is such a thing as free speech.
MRS HUGHES: Not when I’m in charge.
Thomas has annoyed her.
MRS HUGHES (CONT’D): Don’t push your luck, Thomas. Now. Tea’s over. Back to work. You’d better take this.
She hands the button to the lady’s maid. The others go, leaving Anna and Bates with
O’Brien. She laughs bitterly.
O’BRIEN: Friends? Who does she think she’s fooling? We’re not friends.
ANNA: No?
O’BRIEN: No. And you’re not ‘friends’ with the girls neither. We’re servants you and me. And they pay us to do as we’re told. That’s all.*
With a bleak expression, she stalks out.
28 INT. DRESSING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. NIGHT.
Matthew is trying to knot the white tie. Molesley hovers.
MOLESLEY: May I—?
MATTHEW: I can manage. Where have I put my cuff links?
Molesley darts forward with a pair to fasten them.
MOLESLEY: I thought these would make a change.
MATTHEW: I want my usual ones.
Molesley turns back to the link box, but Matthew gets there before him and takes out a pair which he inserts.
MATTHEW: I know I’m a disappointment to you, Molesley, but it’s no good. I’ll never get used to being dressed like a doll.
MOLESLEY: I’m only trying to help, sir.
MATTHEW: Of course. And if I’ve offended you, I apologise. But surely you have better things to do?
MOLESLEY: This is my job, sir.
MATTHEW: Well, it seems a very silly occupation for a grown man
.
He takes the tail coat and shrugs it on, then goes to the door. But he is a nice man. He has no wish to be offensive.
MATTHEW (CONT’D): Look, I’m sorry if I—
Molesley stands. Matthew doesn’t know how to finish it.
MATTHEW (CONT’D): I’m sorry.
29 INT. MARY’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
Anna finishes Mary’s hair, with Edith and Sybil watching.
SYBIL: Why are you so against him?
MARY: Aside from the fact he’s planning to steal our inheritance?
EDITH: Your inheritance. It makes no difference to Sybil and me. We won’t inherit, whatever happens.
Edith is on the bed. Seeing a letter in a book she pretends to read the book, but really reads the letter. Mary shrugs.
MARY: He isn’t one of us.
SYBIL: But Cousin Freddie’s studying for the bar, and so is Vivian MacDonald.
MARY: At Lincoln’s Inn. Not sitting at a dirty little desk in Ripon. Besides, his father was a doctor.
SYBIL: There’s nothing wrong with doctors. We all need doctors.
MARY: We all need crossing sweepers and draymen, too. It doesn’t mean we have to dine with them.*
CORA (V.O.): Whom don’t we have to dine with?
She has come into the room, dressed for dinner. Anna gathers the discarded clothes and leaves.
EDITH: Mary doesn’t care for Cousin Matthew.
CORA: Sybil, be a dear and fetch my pink evening shawl. O’Brien knows which one. And Edith, can you see that the drawing room is ready?
The sisters know they have been dismissed, and go.
CORA (CONT’D): I’m glad to catch you alone—
MARY: You’ve driven the others away.
Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Page 8
