He vanishes onto the landing, leaving her to ponder this.
58 INT. DOWNTON VILLAGE HALL. DAY.
* * *
The show is in full swing. Villagers and the servants look at every stall, while Violet, Cora, Robert and the girls walk about. Isobel and Matthew are with them. Mary glances at Matthew but, while he nods in greeting, he says nothing.
SYBIL: How pretty. What’s it for?
STALLHOLDER: It’s for salt, m’lady. The wide mouth stops it getting damp.
SYBIL: Why should it get damp?
STALLHOLDER: Because a great many cottages are damp, m’lady.
SYBIL: Yes, of course. How silly of me.
* * *
The party has reached Bill Molesley’s stall.
ROBERT: My word, Molesley, splendid roses as usual. Well done.
BILL MOLESLEY: Thank you, your lordship.
VIOLET: All the stalls are set out very well this year.
But Robert and Cora are impressed by Molesley’s offerings.
CORA: This is enchanting. Do we grow it?
BILL MOLESLEY: I doubt you’ve got that one, your ladyship. I’ve only just found it, myself.
CORA: Is it a secret? Or could you tell Mr Brocket?
BILL MOLESLEY: I’d be glad to, m’lady.
His son, Isobel’s butler, beams. They move on in a group.
CORA: He should come and see the rose garden. He could give us some ideas.
ROBERT: Old Molesley’s a champion. Or he would be, in a fairer world.
He gives a meaningful smile to his mother.
VIOLET: Don’t you start.
ISOBEL: I’m afraid I’ve been annoying Cousin Violet on that score.
VIOLET: If Mr Molesley deserves the first prize for his flowers, the judges will give it to him.
ROBERT: They wouldn’t dare.
He shares this with Cora who certainly agrees with him.
VIOLET: Really, Robert. You make me so annoyed. Isn’t it possible that I should win the thing on merit?
ROBERT: I think the appropriate answer to that, Mama, is ‘yes, dear’.
* * *
Violet turns away, but not before she has seen Robert give a wink to Isobel who smiles. It is all very irritating.
* * *
59 EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
The servants are walking through the village. O’Brien is with Thomas.
O’BRIEN: I don’t know why we’re bothering. We’ll have missed the speeches as it is.
THOMAS: Don’t be such a grouch.
Anna is walking with Bates.
ANNA: You should have punished one of them at least.
BATES: They know that I know, and that’s worth something.
They stroll on.
ANNA: What do you think will happen to Mrs Patmore?
BATES: She’ll muddle through with Daisy to help her. In the long term, we’ll have to wait for the doctor to give his opinion.
ANNA: I hope there’s something they can do.
BATES: I hope so, too. But if there isn’t, I hope they tell her there isn’t. Nothing is harder to live with than false hope.
This is enough to make her strong.
ANNA: I wish you’d come out with it.
BATES: With what?
ANNA: Whatever it is that you’re keeping secret.
BATES: I can’t.
ANNA: You don’t deny it, then?
BATES: No, I don’t deny it. And I don’t deny you’ve a right to ask. But I can’t. I’m not a free man.
ANNA: Are you trying to tell me that you’re married?
She has stopped walking and faces him.
BATES: I have been married, yes. But that isn’t all of it.
She will never get a better chance to speak her mind.
ANNA: Because … Because I love you, Mr Bates. I know it’s not ladylike to say it, but I’m not a lady and I don’t pretend to be.
He stares at her, this innocent, good woman, and if he could only change things he would.
BATES: You are a lady to me. And I never knew a finer one.
There is the rattle of wheels. A farmer draws up in a cart, full of hay. There is room for one on the seat beside him.
FARMER: If you want a lift, I can take one of you, but no more.
BATES: One of the women.
ANNA: No, you must go. Then we can all hurry and meet you there.
He looks at her and speaks his answer for her ears, only.
BATES: Yes you’re right. I mustn’t slow you down. There’s been too much of that already.
* * *
Before she can protest, he is up on the board and the cart moves off. Thomas sniffs as they all walk on together.
THOMAS: I might get myself a gammy leg. It seems to be the answer to every problem.
Anna is silent as they quicken their pace.
* * *
60 INT. DOWNTON VILLAGE HALL. DAY.
* * *
The flower show. Cora has come to find Violet.
CORA: It’s time for the prize giving, Mama. Here’s the list.
VIOLET: Perhaps you should do it.
CORA: You say that every year.
VIOLET: Perhaps one year you’ll take me up on it.
CORA: Perhaps I will.
With a side glance at her daughter-in-law, Violet looks at the paper. At the end, next to ‘The Grantham Cup for Best Bloom’ she of course finds her own name. As Violet starts reading out the winners and handing over the prizes, among the crush, Sybil sees Gwen, who seems depressed. They whisper.
* * *
SYBIL: Have you recovered from our ordeal?
Gwen half smiles, but she’s obviously cast down.
GWEN: I got a letter this morning. They must have written it as soon as I left the office … They are ‘pleased to have met me’, but I ‘do not quite fit their requirements’… So it was all for nothing.
Sybil takes the maid’s hand and gives it a squeeze.
SYBIL: I don’t agree.
GWEN: You’ve been kind, m’lady, and I appreciate it. But only a fool doesn’t know when they’ve been beaten.
SYBIL: Then I’m a fool, for I’m a long way from being beaten yet.
She is absolutely determined and this does cheer Gwen up a bit. Meanwhile, the names continue, with little bursts of applause. Across the hall, Mary walks over to Matthew.
MARY: When you ran off last night, I hope you hadn’t thought me rude.
MATTHEW: Certainly not. I monopolised you at dinner. I’d no right to any more of your time.
MARY: But you see, Edith and I had this sort of bet.
MATTHEW: Please don’t apologise. I had a lovely evening and I’m glad we’re on speaking terms. Now, I should look after my mother.
He walks through the crush to get to Isobel who is standing in front of the stage. Edith comes up.
EDITH: Why was Cousin Matthew in such a hurry to get away?
MARY: Don’t be stupid.
EDITH: I suppose you didn’t want him when he wanted you, and now it’s the other way round. You have to admit it’s quite funny.
MARY: I’ll admit that if I ever wanted to attract a man I’d steer clear of those clothes and that hat.
EDITH: You think yourself so superior, don’t you?
MARY: Why not? I am.
She goes to join her parents by the stage. Edith senses someone’s eyes on her and she looks over to find O’Brien staring. Edith nods slightly, whispering to herself.
EDITH: Well, I think she who laughs last laughs longest.
As Mary arrives, Cora turns to her husband.
CORA: Did that missing box of yours ever turn up?
ROBERT: It was a fuss about nothing. They must’ve put it back on the wrong shelf when they were dusting. Bates found it this morning.
CORA: Next time, have a proper look before you start complaining. I’m sure the servants were frightened half to death.
ROBERT: Mea culpa.
61 INT. DOWNTON VILLAGE HALL. DA
Y.
On the stage, Violet has reached the final award.
VIOLET: And now, the Grantham Cup for the Best Bloom in the Village.
She is very confident, but there is Isobel, standing directly in front of her and boring into her with an iron gaze. Violet looks to one side and there is Bill Molesley, with his son. The younger Molesley seems stern, but the old man is just hopelessly hopeful.
VIOLET (CONT’D): The Grantham Cup is awarded to—
She takes a deep breath to steady herself.
VIOLET (CONT’D): To Mr William Molesley for his Countess Cabarrus rose.
There is complete silence. The village is too stunned to clap. Bill Molesley looks as if he’d been turned to stone.*
ISOBEL: Bravo! Well done! Bravo!
As soon as she starts to clap, the audience goes mad, cheering and stamping and clapping, as Bill Molesley is pushed up onto the stage. He is crying as he reaches for the cup, which softens even Violet.
VIOLET: Congratulations, Mr Molesley.
BILL MOLESLEY: Thank you, m’lady. Thank you for letting me have it.
VIOLET: It is the judge’s decision, not mine. But very well done.
He leaves the stage where his friends mill around him as Violet rejoins her family.
ROBERT: Bravo, Mama. That must have been a real sacrifice.
CORA: And bravely borne.
VIOLET: I don’t know what everyone is going on about. It’s the judges who decide these things, not me.
Cora is puzzled.
CORA: But I …
VIOLET: All is well, my dear. All is well.
Firmly, she crumples the list and hides it in her reticule, as the celebrations continue around her.*
62 INT. EDITH’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
The house is quiet. Edith, dressed for bed, sits at a writing table. She is addressing an envelope. She licks it, closes the flap and puts it down on the blotter where we can read it. ‘His Excellency the Turkish Ambassador, 43 Belgrave Square, London, SW.’*
END OF EPISODE FIVE
EPISODE SIX
ACT ONE
1 EXT. RIPON. DAY.
May 1914. There is a crowd at a rally in this country town. Among them is Sybil Crawley. A Liberal Parliamentary candidate speaks from a raised platform.
LIBERAL CANDIDATE: Last June saw Emily Davison crushed to death beneath the hooves of the King’s horse! Will the summer of 1914 prove as fatal for the hopes of women? It cannot!
A woman heckles him. She’s standing next to Isobel Crawley.
LIBERAL CANDIDATE (CONT’D): This historic by-election has been the first step of the journey to women’s equality.
SECOND HECKLER: If you’re so keen on women’s rights, let a woman speak!
THIRD HECKLER: Why stop there? Let’s get the dogs up, and listen to them bark!
The crowd starts to jostle. There are shouts and jeers. Branson approaches Sybil, who is bubbling with enthusiasm. A clod of earth strikes him on the chest, but he struggles on.
BRANSON: Are you all right, m’lady?
SYBIL: Isn’t it exciting?*
LIBERAL CANDIDATE (CONT’D): Are we to lie down under the weight of the iniquitous Cat and Mouse Act? So women are thrown out of prison when the system has nearly killed them, only to be dragged back inside when they have regained the strength to fight the forces of oppression? Mr Asquith tells us he is a Liberal. Well, so am I. He tells us this law was an act of mercy. I disagree, but let us give him the benefit of the doubt. That said, if the fate of women troubles him, then let us send him a message. Let us send him a message with this vote, so loud and so clear that he can hear it far away in London. The people of Ripon demand justice, not just for the men, but for the women of England, too! Their hour has come! Soon, they will be in Parliament representing themselves, but, until then, they must find champions where they may, and you all may rest assured that I am one of them!*
As a missile strikes him, and the mood of the crowd grows angrier, Isobel hurries over to where Sybil is standing with Branson. Their dialogue is played against the background of the continuing speech.
MAN: You’re an idiot.
ISOBEL: Sybil? I think it’s time Branson took you home.
SYBIL: Not yet.
ISOBEL: I think so. I applaud your spirit in coming, and I will applaud your discretion when you leave.
SYBIL: But you do agree with everything he says?
ISOBEL: I do, my dear. But I also know that if anything happens to you, Branson will lose his place.†
BRANSON: Better safe than sorry, m’lady.
With a smile at Isobel, he pulls Sybil through the throng.
BRANSON: The car’s just here.
SYBIL: Women must get the vote, mustn’t they, Branson? Why does the Prime Minister resist the inevitable?
BRANSON: Politicians can’t often recognise the changes that are inevitable.
They have reached the car and now they climb in.
2 INT. MOTOR CAR. DAY.
Sybil settles into her seat as they drive along.
SYBIL: I hope you do go into politics. It’s a fine ambition.
BRANSON: Ambition or dream?
* * *
SYBIL: Ambition. Definitely. They can’t afford to lose a man like you.
She says this simply, with a laugh, but he is pleased.
* * *
* * *
BRANSON: If I do, it’s not all about women and the vote for me, nor even freedom for Ireland. It’s social injustice. It’s the conditions of the workers and the gap between the aristocracy and the poor and—
* * *
SYBIL: And what?
BRANSON: I’m sorry. I don’t mean to speak against his lordship.
SYBIL: Why not? You obviously don’t approve of him.
BRANSON: Not as the representative of an oppressive class, but he’s a good man and a decent employer.
* * *
SYBIL: Spoken like a true politician. If a rather Jesuitical one.
* * *
He smiles. They have a relaxed relationship, these two.* Sybil catches sight of the clock on the dashboard.
SYBIL (CONT’D): Golly. Is that the time?
Now she sees herself in the driving mirror.
* * *
* * *
SYBIL (CONT’D): What do I look like? Would you sneak me in round the back? I should hate for Papa to see me like this. Branson, if you want to be in politics, why aren’t you?
BRANSON: Oh, no reason, really, m’lady. Just a little thing called money.
She keeps forgetting the distance between them.
* * *
3 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. DAY.
Mrs Patmore is with Daisy.
MRS PATMORE: You foolish girl! Is it likely? Would I tell you to start a sauce today that’s for tomorrow?
MRS HUGHES (V.O.): You might.
She is in the doorway, watching.
MRS PATMORE: What do you want?
MRS HUGHES: You asked for some baking soda.
MRS PATMORE: Though why I should have to ask—
MRS HUGHES: Once and for all, Mrs Patmore, the housekeeper has the keys to the store cupboard. That is how these things are managed. I did not invent the rules.
MRS PATMORE: Maybe not. But if you ask me, the rules should change.
MRS HUGHES: Really? And have you any thoughts on the future of the House of Lords while you’re at it?
She hands the packet to the cook and walks out.
4 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Carson is reading a letter when Mrs Hughes arrives.
MRS HUGHES: Mrs Patmore is very cruel to that poor girl.
CARSON: Mrs Patmore is frightened.
MRS HUGHES: Is she right to be?
CARSON: Well, Doctor Clarkson’s confirmed she has cataracts.
MRS HUGHES: What can be done about it?
CARSON: There are treatments, but even the best are uncertain. And she doesn’t want to risk losing what sight she still has.
MRS HUGHES: I don’t blame her. But it can’t go on forever.
CARSON: No …
He sounds depressed as he looks down at the letter.
MRS HUGHES: Oh, dear. Have you had bad news? I shouldn’t have bothered you.
CARSON: No, you weren’t to know.
He sighs as he puts the letter back.
5 INT. KITCHEN PASSAGE. DOWNTON. DAY.
Sybil is creeping along the passage. She almost runs into William, who’s carrying a silver table centrepiece.
WILLIAM: Blimey. Excuse me, m’lady.
SYBIL: William, will you find Anna and tell her I’ve gone upstairs?
WILLIAM: Very good, m’lady.
She goes up the backstairs but we follow him to:
6 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
Bates, Anna, O’Brien and Thomas are there. Thomas is by the door as William pushes it, spilling Thomas’s tea.
THOMAS: You clumsy clodhopper.
WILLIAM: Sorry.
THOMAS: You will be sorry when I’ve finished with you. Look at this!
BATES: Leave him alone.*
WILLIAM: Anna, Lady Sybil’s back from Ripon. She’s gone up to her room.
Anna nods and leaves.
O’BRIEN: Why does she waste her precious time on politics?
THOMAS: Hear, hear.
BATES: Oh, don’t you believe in rights for women, Thomas?
THOMAS: What’s it to you?
BATES: Well, I know you don’t believe in the rights of property.
Thomas looks at him. Is this a threat?
BATES (CONT’D): I think some people might find that interesting.
Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Page 24
