THOMAS: Who’s going to tell them? You?
But Bates just smiles. Thomas glances at O’Brien.
7 INT. KITCHEN PASSAGE/CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. EVE.
Mrs Hughes is hurrying along. She reaches Carson’s door.
MRS HUGHES: Mr Carson, are you all right?
CARSON: Why shouldn’t I be?
MRS HUGHES: You’ve never rung the dressing gong and Mrs Patmore’s doing a souffle’ for the first course.
CARSON: Oh, my God—
He snatches at his watch, jumps up and hurries out.
8 INT. DRESSING ROOM. DOWNTON. EVE.
Pharaoh watches as Bates holds a tailcoat open for Robert.
ROBERT: Rather unlike Carson. We’d better go straight in to dinner.
BATES: I’ll tell Miss O’Brien and Anna.
* * *
ROBERT: Any more news of the by-election? Mr Crawley was here earlier. He said his mother had gone to the Liberal rally in Ripon. The vicar’s wife took her. Classic.
* * *
BATES: I hear it was quite lively.
ROBERT: I dare say the Townies will make the usual stink when the Tory candidate’s returned.
BATES: I’m not sure. I heard the Liberal was given a hard time, today. Mr Branson said it was getting out of hand when they left.
Bates has been talking easily as he folds the day clothes.
ROBERT: Typical Branson to be there. I hope he squared it with Carson. Who went with him?
Bates realises he has put his foot in it.
BATES: Uh … I’m not sure anyone went with him, m’lord.
ROBERT: But you just said ‘they’. Who was with him?
BATES: I don’t like to say.
ROBERT: Bates. Who was with him?
BATES: Lady Sybil.
ROBERT: Lady Sybil? Why?
BATES: I should never have mentioned it, m’lord. I thought you knew.
ROBERT: No, I did not know.
9 INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
The family has just sat down to dinner. Violet is with them. Carson, Thomas and William are serving.
ROBERT: I gather you went to hear the Liberal candidate today?
SYBIL: There were several speakers, actually, he was the last.
ROBERT: Did he speak well?
SYBIL: I thought so.
ROBERT: But there was quite a brouhaha.
SYBIL: You know what these things can be like—
ROBERT: I do. Which is why I’m astonished you should not feel it necessary to ask my permission to attend.
There is a silence in the room. Robert is very angry.
ROBERT (CONT’D): I assume this was Branson’s idea.
SYBIL: No, I—
ROBERT: I confess I was amused at the idea of an Irish radical for a chauffeur, but I see now I have been naive.*
CORA: I told Branson to take Sybil.
ROBERT: What are you saying?*
CORA: Sybil needed to get to Ripon, and I asked Branson to drive her. I thought it was sensible. In case there was trouble.
SYBIL: I want to do some canvassing. The by-election isn’t far off, and—
VIOLET: Canvassing?
SYBIL: It’s quite safe. You’re in a group and you knock on doors—
VIOLET: Yes, I know what canvassing is.
MARY: I think that Sybil is …
VIOLET: What? Are you canvassing, too? Or would you rather take in washing?
MARY: I was only going to say that Sybil’s entitled to her opinions.
VIOLET: Not until she is married. Then her husband will tell her what her opinions are.
MARY: Oh, Granny.
SYBIL: I knew you wouldn’t approve.
ROBERT: Which is presumably why you all hid your plans from me.
10 INT. SERVERY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Daisy is clearing away plates. Thomas is loading a tray.
THOMAS: Her ladyship’ll have a smacked bottom if she isn’t careful.
Daisy snorts with laughter as Carson looks in.
CARSON: Hurry up. I don’t want anything else to go wrong tonight … Where’s the sauce? Doesn’t this have Hollandaise?
DAISY: I’ll get it. I won’t be a jiffy.
THOMAS: Would you do that for me?
DAISY: I’d do anything for you.
She is gone before he can respond.
11 INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
As Thomas walks in, things are still sticky.
VIOLET: Does this mean you won’t be presented next month?
SYBIL: Certainly not. Why should it?
VIOLET: I doubt I’d expect to curtsey to Their Majesties in June, if I’d been arrested at a riot in May. But of course I’m old. Things may be different now.*
CORA: She hasn’t been arrested and it wasn’t a riot.
EDITH: But it might be next time.
ROBERT: There will not be a next time.†
12 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Bates and Anna are with Branson.
ANNA: Her ladyship’s not best pleased at being told off in public. William said she was looking daggers.
BATES: I’m sorry I started all this.
BRANSON: Oh, it’s not your fault. Anyway, he ought to be glad he’s got a daughter who cares.
Thomas leans in through the door.
THOMAS: Her ladyship’s ready to leave.
BRANSON: I’ll bring the car round.
THOMAS: Are you pleased with yourself?
Before Bates can speak, Branson and Thomas have gone.
* * *
ANNA: Silly chump. Why must he be so unpleasant all the time?
BATES: He’s nervous.
ANNA: What of?
BATES: He annoyed me, earlier on, and I said something stupid. He thinks I’m planning to tell Mr Carson about the wine.
* * *
ANNA: Well, he shouldn’t have stolen it then, should he?
BATES: No. But I don’t want anyone to lose their job because of me.
ANNA: Even Thomas? Even after what they tried to do to you?
BATES: Even then.
She smiles. She approves of this, really.
* * *
13 INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Robert is reading, with Pharaoh at his feet. Carson enters.
CARSON: I’m sorry to disturb you, m’lord.
Robert waits as Carson closes the door. He holds a letter.
CARSON (CONT’D): I don’t know how I missed the gong. I must’ve been distracted.
ROBERT: Never mind. These things happen.
To Carson’s dismay, Robert assumes that was why he came.
ROBERT (CONT’D): While you’re here, Carson, I’m afraid I was angrier at dinner than the situation warranted. I hope the servants won’t make too much of it.*
CARSON: Well. They like a story. But they move on quick enough.
ROBERT: I don’t want Branson to be upset. I got the wrong end of the stick, and I rather let rip.
CARSON: He’ll get over it.
ROBERT: But what are we going to do if Lady Sybil turns political? I’m sorry. Was there something else?
Carson glances at the letter, but this isn’t the time.
CARSON: No, m’lord. Good night.
* * *
14 INT. HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Carson emerges, just as Cora is at the foot of the stairs.
CARSON: Your ladyship, do you have a moment?
CORA: Of course. What is it?
* * *
CARSON: Could we go in here?
He’s opened the dining room door and turned on the lights.
CORA: Heavens, how mysterious.
15 INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Carson closes the door. Cora waits.
* * *
CARSON: I’ve received a letter, m’lady. From a friend of mine. He’s valet to the Marquess of Flintshire.
CORA: I don’t envy him.*
CARSON: Lord Flintshire is a minister a
t the Foreign Office …
CORA: As you know, Lady Flintshire is his lordship’s cousin.
CARSON: Of course, of course. The point is, he has dealings with the Turkish Ambassador.
Suddenly, Cora realises what’s coming. Carson ploughs on.
CARSON (CONT’D): It seems His Excellency has made him privy to a scurrilous story concerning Lady Mary and … the late Mr Pamuk.†
CORA: May I read this letter?
He holds out the letter. She is like ice as she takes it and starts to read.
CARSON: Is there anything you’d like me to do about it?
CORA: No, thank you. Sometimes, even to deny these things is only to throw paraffin onto the flames.
CARSON: I did try to inform his lordship.
CORA: What?
CARSON: But I couldn’t seem to find the right moment.
She can breathe again.
CORA: Quite right. Please leave his lordship to me.
16 INT. KITCHEN PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
O’BRIEN: I’m sorry. The only sure way to get rid of a servant is to have him or her suspected of stealing.
O’Brien is plotting with Thomas.
THOMAS: Aren’t you forgetting we’ve tried that? And it didn’t work.
O’BRIEN: But last time, we invented a theft. What we need is to make him a suspect when something’s really been stolen.
THOMAS: How do we know anything’s been stolen?
O’BRIEN: Because you stole it, you noodle.
THOMAS: Oh. You mean the wine.
O’BRIEN: Yes, the wine.
THOMAS: But that’s the whole point. Bates knows I took it. He was threatening to tell Mr Carson.
O’BRIEN: Well, he can’t, can he? Not if we get to him first.
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
17 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
CARSON: Are you telling me you saw him take the cellar key?
Carson is talking to Thomas.
THOMAS: Not exactly. But I saw him in here and I thought the key was swinging on its hook.
Carson listens to this without comment.
THOMAS (CONT’D): I just wondered if you’d noticed if any of the wine was missing?
18 INT. CORA’S BEDROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Cora and Robert are in bed together.
ROBERT: I think I owe you an apology after the way I spoke at dinner.
CORA: Next time you want to treat me like a naughty schoolgirl, you might do it in private and not in front of the servants.
ROBERT: You’re right. I’m sorry.*
CORA: Of course, it gave your mother her best evening since Christmas.
ROBERT: Even so, we must try to keep control of Sybil.
CORA: Robert, believe me, Sybil is not your problem.
He ponders this response as she blows out her lamp.
CORA (CONT’D): We’ve got to support Mary this year, when we get to London.
ROBERT: But it’s Sybil’s first Season. We can’t have Mary stealing her thunder.
CORA: Sybil’ll do well enough. It’s time Mary was settled. High time.
He is getting sleepy, so he just accepts this.
ROBERT: Poor old Edith. We never seem to talk about her.
CORA: I’m afraid Edith will be the one to care for us in our old age.
ROBERT: What a ghastly prospect.
For Edith or for them, he does not make clear.
* * *
19 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
A new morning. Bates leaves breakfast as Carson arrives.
CARSON: I wonder if I might have a word with you later, Mr Bates.
BATES: Of course. As soon as I’ve finished his lordship.
Carson nods briskly and goes. Anna has overheard this.
ANNA: What’s that about?
BATES: Search me.
He leaves, but Anna turns to find O’Brien looking at her.
* * *
20 INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.
Mary, in a riding habit, gloves, hat and veil, walks in.
MARY: Mama? Anna said you wanted me.
CORA: Look who’s paid us a visit.
She stands, making the guest stand also. He is none other than Sir Anthony Strallan. Edith is with them.
MARY: Sir Anthony. How nice. We all thought we’d driven you away with that horrible salty pudding.
STRALLAN: No, indeed. But I have been away.
EDITH: He’s been in Austria and Germany.
MARY: How interesting.
STRALLAN: Interesting. And worrying.
Cora wants to move things along.
CORA: Sir Anthony is here to show you his new car.
STRALLAN: I’ve rather taken to driving myself and I have to keep finding destinations to justify it.
MARY: What kind of car is it?
STRALLAN: It’s an open Rolls-Royce. I wondered if you might like a spin in it.
MARY: How kind. But, alas, not today. I’ve had Diamond saddled and he’s waiting for me.
CORA: You could ride this afternoon.
MARY: It’s arranged now. But thank you, Sir Anthony. Do ask me again.
EDITH: I don’t suppose you’d take me.
Strallan is enough of a gentleman to know he’s trapped.
STRALLAN: Of course! I should be delighted.
Cora is not best pleased.
21 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Bates is standing before Carson.
BATES: What is it that I am accused of?
CARSON: Nobody is ‘accusing’ you of anything. But there’s been a suggestion you were handling the cellar key. Before I take it any further, I want to find out if there’s a simple explanation.
BATES: Because some wine is missing.
CARSON: How do you know that?
Bates is not prepared to explain.
CARSON (CONT’D): Right. Well, we’ll leave it there for now.
* * *
22 EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Sybil is walking towards the Crawleys’ front door.
23 INT. DRAWING ROOM. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
Isobel is with Sybil.
ISOBEL: No, I shan’t be going into Ripon on election night and nor should you. Not again. Yesterday was quite frightening enough. What would your father say?
SYBIL: You know how he hates politics. He says that since he’s a peer and we’re all women, there isn’t a vote in the house to be had, and they should leave us alone.
ISOBEL: Well, he’s right that politics can be a rough ride. I support women’s rights and I’m glad you do. But you won’t help the cause by getting caught in a stampede.
SYBIL: But I do so want to go. To feel part of it if Morgan* wins, and to support him if he loses.
ISOBEL: Very commendable, but my advice is to do it by post.
The door opens and Matthew comes in.
ISOBEL (CONT’D): Hello. What are you doing here?
MATTHEW: I thought I’d get some luncheon off you. I’m taking down a will in the next village at two.
SYBIL: I ought to be going. Don’t bother Molesley.
24 INT. HALL. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DAY.
Matthew shuts the door. Isobel has followed them.
MATTHEW: What did she want?
ISOBEL: A partner in crime.
MATTHEW: Did she get one?
ISOBEL: Not this time.
* * *
25 EXT. COUNTRY LANE. DAY.
Edith and Strallan are bowling along in his car.
STRALLAN: The Kaiser is such a mercurial figure, one minute the warlord, the next a lovelorn poet.
EDITH: But a poet in need of an empire.
STRALLAN: That’s very good. ‘A poet in need of an empire.’ My late wife always used to say …
EDITH: What did Lady Strallan say?
STRALLAN: Never mind.
EDITH: But I should like to hear it.
STRALLAN: Really? Would you, really?
She nods. He is v
ery touched. As she intended him to be.
STRALLAN (CONT’D): She used to say Kaiser Bill loved uniforms and medals but he never really connected them with fighting.
He laughs and Edith laughs, too.
EDITH: What was she like?
STRALLAN: Maud? Oh, she was awfully funny. Some people couldn’t see it, but she was …
Edith is doing very well.
26 EXT. STABLE YARD. DOWNTON. DAY.
William crosses the yard to the woodsheds with a basket, as Mary arrives, leading her horse.
MARY: Is Lynch anywhere about?*
WILLIAM: I haven’t seen him, m’lady.
MARY: My horse is lame.
She stands by the animal. William hesitates.
WILLIAM: I could have a look at him.
MARY: Do you know about horses?
WILLIAM: I grew up on a farm, m’lady.
MARY: Well, if you think you can help.
She stands back and William approaches the animal, handling it confidently and examining its hoof without alarming it.
WILLIAM: He’s graveled.
MARY: You mean he’s picked up a stone?
WILLIAM: No, it’s an infection. From dirt getting in. He must have been shod recently.
MARY: I wouldn’t know.
WILLIAM: That’s when it starts.
MARY: So, it’s not too serious?
WILLIAM: Oh, no. I’ll clean it up and put a poultice on.
He starts to lead the horse into its open loose box. Mary watches, eventually leaning on the half door.
MARY: Shouldn’t you wait for Lynch?
WILLIAM: He won’t mind. He knows I can handle horses.
MARY: Did you look after the horses on your father’s farm?
WILLIAM: I did. Best job in the world.
Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Page 25
