17 INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Mrs Bird is drinking tea when Molesley comes in.
MRS BIRD: Want a cup?
MOLESLEY: Not really.
MRS BIRD: What were you doing?
MOLESLEY: Let me see. I’ve tidied the study twice and I’ve rearranged the coats in the hall. I might check his clothes for moth. What about you?
MRS BIRD: We’ve cleaned everything three times over and I’ve sent Beth into the village for some eggs to pickle. Though the mistress doesn’t really like them.
MOLESLEY: Well, she never eats properly, anyway. Not on her own. A butler can’t do much with supper on a tray.*
They are surprised by a knock at the open outside door. A ragged individual, leaning on a crutch, stands there.
VISITOR: Beg pardon for troubling you, only the door was open.
MOLESLEY: But the front gate was not.
VISITOR: No.
MRS BIRD: What do you want?
VISITOR: Have you got any spare food?
MRS BIRD: ‘Spare food’? What’s that when it’s at home?
The visitor nods, resignedly, and starts to move off.
MOLESLEY: Hang on, hang on, wait. You from round here? What’s your name?
VISITOR: Ted Wurkett. Not far. I used to work on the farms, but, er, not any more.
MOLESLEY: You get that in the war?
VISITOR: Don’t pity me. I’m one of the lucky ones.
MRS BIRD: I might have something for you.
She puts a pan on the hob while she looks in the cupboards.†
* Kevin Doyle has developed Molesley as a character tremendously well, and I love writing stories for him. He has created an Eeyore figure, who just assumes that bad luck is stalking him. And as with most people who believe they’re unlucky, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. By contrast, Mrs Bird is entirely in the centre of her own world. She doesn’t seek a particularly different life, she accepts that this is what’s happened to her, whereas with Molesley you always feel he has the soul of a poet, trapped inside the body of a beleaguered servant.
† In every area of the country, there were beggars. One of the great problems of war is not just that people get killed; it is also that people are wounded but not killed. And this is a reminder. Here is someone who, we are encouraged to assume, was an able agricultural worker, but who has now lost his ability to support himself, through no fault of his own. What was the country going to do with all these people who were not desk workers? It isn’t a grim show, but this is a Downton reminder that there would be an enormous number of similarly placed men after the war.
18 EXT. NO-MAN’S-LAND. NORTHERN FRANCE. DAWN.
Matthew and William are lying on the ground, listening. Someone nearby is talking German. William whispers.
WILLIAM: How long do we wait, sir?
Before Matthew speaks there’s a cry in German and a gunshot. They attempt to retreat through the woods but soon realise they are surrounded. They run as multiple shots ring out after them.
19 EXT. DOWNTON. DAY.
It’s a new day at Downton and Molesley is walking towards it.
20 INT. ROBERT’S DRESSING ROOM. DOWNTON. DAY.
Carson brushes a suit; when he looks up, Molesley is there.
CARSON: Hello, Mr Molesley.
MOLESLEY: They told me you were up here. I hope you don’t mind my bothering you.
CARSON: Not a bit. What can I do for you?
MOLESLEY: Well, actually, Mr Carson, I’ve been thinking there might be something I could do for you.
CARSON: Hm?
MOLESLEY: That brushing, for instance.
He walks forward, takes the brush and starts to work.
MOLESLEY (CONT’D): I don’t like having nothing to do, what with Captain Crawley away at the war and his mother in France alongside him. And then his lordship’s without a valet and your plate is piled so high…
CARSON: I am quite occupied, it’s true.
MOLESLEY: So I thought I’d look in and give you a hand. Brushing. Mending. Cleaning shoes. Whatever’s needed.
CARSON: That’s kind of you, Mr Molesley. We shall have to watch ourselves, or else his lordship will want to pinch you off Captain Crawley.
Molesley’s face tells us this is exactly what he’s after.
21 INT. SMALL LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Cora is reading some papers as Robert works at the desk.
CORA: Oh, I’ve asked to have my luncheon on a tray from tomorrow onwards. When we’re not entertaining.
ROBERT: Why?
CORA: I’ve too much to do and I can’t down tools every day for an hour. You can eat with the girls.*
ROBERT: Have you heard from Isobel?
CORA: I’d have told you.
ROBERT: I’m sorry it had to end in an explosion.
CORA: You may be sorry, but you cannot be surprised.
ROBERT: Drop her a line. Tell her the news. Oh, and say Molesley’s been working here. Brushing and whatnot.
CORA: I would, but we have no address for her. I’ll write when she deigns to send us one.
ROBERT: You like her, really.
CORA: Maybe. But, oh, I do hate this war. Watching Isobel glory in her own importance just made it worse. And don’t get the idea Molesley can be your new valet. Or we’ll never hear the end of it.
ROBERT: Stranger things happen at sea.
* I’m not on Robert’s side in this. Yes, he feels neglected, and eventually he gets a bit pouty, but, like many men of his type, he is not giving his wife credit for what she’s doing. I always remember my mother, sometime in the Fifties, painting a room and suddenly looking at the clock – she never wore a watch – and exclaiming: ‘Oh, my God, I’m on duty in twenty minutes.’ I suppose I was about seven, but I still remember how, in those twenty minutes, she cleaned herself up, got into a little cocktail frock and went downstairs, so that when my father walked in she was standing there with a jug of Martini, in a sexy dress and smelling delicious. Looking back, I don’t believe he really appreciated the extent to which he was being kept in cotton wool. That was very much the thinking of her generation of women, that the husband must never see the rough bits. I know my mother felt her job was to conceal the changes that the war had brought, mainly the absence of servants (and money). She might spend half the day in the kitchen, but all that was effectively hidden from my father, so by the time he got home, there it was: a delicious dinner to be eaten by candlelight with his nice pretty wife, sitting there in her twinkling earrings and chatting away. For these women, there was an imperative to keep the flag flying, and their husbands were luckier than most of them knew. In a way, I admire it, but here I have no patience with Robert being put out. I thought as a child, and I think now, that the husband should take into account what his wife is doing to keep the show on the road. That’s where, for me, Robert is in the wrong.
22 INT. KITCHEN PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Daisy is with Mrs Hughes.
MRS HUGHES: What would you like me to do?
DAISY: I don’t know quite. But he said he’d be here by now and he’s not.
MRS HUGHES: You mustn’t worry about him, Daisy. Not yet.
DAISY: I’m not ‘worried’ like that, exactly. But this is William. I think we should all be worried.
MRS HUGHES: Well, it’s much too early to panic. Anything might have happened. Maybe his leave was cancelled. His plans changed. At times like these, people vanish and turn up again in the strangest places.
DAISY: Like Mr Bates in that pub.
Mrs Hughes stares at her.
23 INT. CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Daisy is now with Carson as well as Mrs Hughes.
CARSON: Working in a public house?
DAISY: That’s what he said. I thought they’d have told you.
CARSON: It doesn’t seem likely that a trained valet like Mr Bates would be content to work in a public house.
DAISY: Well, that’s wh
at he said.
CARSON: Have you mentioned this to Anna?
DAISY: I haven’t said anything to anyone. I thought you all knew. Perhaps you should ask Thomas.
CARSON: Oh, I will ask Thomas. Don’t you worry about that, my girl.
24 INT. PASSAGE. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Robert and Carson are interrogating Thomas.
ROBERT: Didn’t it occur to you that we might be interested to hear it?
THOMAS: Not particularly. As far as I knew, Mr Bates had left your employment.
ROBERT: You didn’t think to tell Carson?
THOMAS: I am not under Mr Carson’s command now, your lordship.
The Earl and the butler share this.
25 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
Several of the servants are there. O’Brien sews and Daisy reads a paper. Mrs Patmore comes in.
MRS PATMORE: Shoo. Daisy, go to bed. Before you strain your eyes.
As Daisy stands, Thomas arrives.
THOMAS: Thank you, Daisy, for telling Mr Carson all about my private letter.
DAISY: I didn’t know it was a secret. I’m sorry if I was wrong.
THOMAS: There’s no ‘if’ about it.*
Daisy hurries away, followed by Mrs Patmore.
O’BRIEN: Why answer his lordship at all?
THOMAS: What did you want me to do? Tell him to get knotted?
O’BRIEN: He doesn’t pay your wages.
THOMAS: Oh, I see. Well, I won’t put you down for a career in diplomacy, then.
O’BRIEN: What’s he after? To get Bates back?
THOMAS: If Mr Bates wanted his job back, he’d have written for it himself.
ETHEL: Why would he want his job back?
This distracts them and they look over to her.
ETHEL (CONT’D): He’s like you. He got away.
THOMAS: He’s not very like me, thank you.
ETHEL: But you’re both free of all the bowing and scraping and ‘Yes, m’lord’ and ‘No, m’lord’… I envy him. I envy you. Because I’m ready for a new adventure, and I don’t care who hears me.
O’BRIEN: Well, you know what they say: ‘Be careful what you wish for.’
* Thomas, of course, is furious with Daisy. In the workplace, enormous numbers of disparate people have to live and work together, and that must mean disagreements. In fact, whether you’re working in some high ministerial office or in a café, you have to rub along with people whom you find unsympathetic, which is the point we’re making here.
25A EXT. DOWNTON. DAY.
Sybil is walking in the grounds, thinking about what Branson said to her.
BRANSON (V.O.): The truth is, I’ll stay at Downton until you want to run away with me.
26 INT. SMALL LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Robert is with Anna, who has just appeared.
ROBERT: Ah. Good morning, Anna.
ANNA: You sent for me, m’lord?
ROBERT: I did. Come in. I have something to tell you, but I hope I’m right. Carson didn’t want you to be troubled with it…
ANNA: Is this about Mr Bates, m’lord?
ROBERT: Yes, it is. I have no wish to upset you but it seems he may be back in Yorkshire and working in a public house. We don’t yet know where.
ANNA: The Red Lion in Kirkbymoorside.
Which is not what he was expecting.
ROBERT: Oh. You’ve seen him, then?
ANNA: I have, yes, m’lord.
ROBERT: And he’s well?
ANNA: He is.
There is a moment when neither knows who should speak next.
ANNA (CONT’D): He’s not been back to Downton for two reasons. He’s hoping to settle certain matters first, with… Mrs Bates.
ROBERT: And does he think he can?
ANNA: He believes so, m’lord.
ROBERT: Very good. And what is his second reason for avoiding us?
ANNA: He says… he parted with your lordship… on bad terms. He felt it might be… embarrassing.
ROBERT: It is for me to feel embarrassed.
27 EXT. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Mrs Patmore is walking with Daisy.
MRS PATMORE: I had to get out of that kitchen if I’m not to be found dead under the table. It’s like cooking a banquet three times a day.
DAISY: It is a lot of extra work, whatever they say. Even with the helpers —
MRS PATMORE: Don’t think they lighten the load!
There’s a crowd of men at Crawley House. Mrs Bird appears.
MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): Mrs Bird? What’s going on?
MRS BIRD: I knew I’d be found out sooner or later. At least it’s you.
MRS PATMORE: Found out doing what?
MRS BIRD: What does it look like?
MRS PATMORE: Well, I don’t know what it looks like. Except some kind of soup kitchen.
MRS BIRD: You’d better come inside.*
* I am often criticised for the niceness of the characters, but this sort of thing went on quite a lot, and certainly my own grandmother always had a certain amount of food made ready to be given to people who banged on the door at that time. She rather broke the rules during the Second World War, though, when the Government took away all the signposts and removed all the maps in case of the German invasion. She had been put in charge of her grandchildren, so, rather than try to fight off the marauding Hun, she left a pile of maps and sandwiches on the hall table, with an instruction in German saying, ‘Take what you wish, and leave us alone.’ When he found out, my father hit the roof, protesting at her lack of patriotism, but she said, ‘No. I had someone else’s children to look after, and that changes the rules.’ I do rather see her point.
28 INT. KITCHEN. CRAWLEY HOUSE. DOWNTON VILLAGE. DAY.
Mrs Bird has a table with a large pot of stew and a basket of bread. The men are lined up from the door into the garden.
MRS BIRD: One at a time. Now, take a piece of bread —
MRS PATMORE: I’ll do that. Right, Daisy, stand there, give them a bowl and a spoon.
The three women form a production line.
MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): When did all this start?
MRS BIRD: That fella turned up, asking for food. Then he came back next day with a friend and… here we are.
DAISY: What does Mrs Crawley say?
MRS BIRD: She doesn’t know yet. I suppose she’ll put a stop to it when she gets back from France.
MRS PATMORE: I hope not.
MRS BIRD: To be honest, Mrs Patmore, I’m not sure I can manage much longer.
MRS PATMORE: How often do you do it?
MRS BIRD: I planned to get it down to once a week. And give them only the cheapest cuts. But it is my money, and I —
MRS PATMORE: Hold it right there! If we can’t feed a few soldiers in our own village, them as’ve taken a bullet or worse for King and Country, then I don’t know what!
29 INT. LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Edith is putting books away when Daisy comes in with a coal bucket to replenish the scuttle.
DAISY: Sorry about this, m’lady, only there’s no footman to do it now.
EDITH: I don’t mind. But you’d better run before Mrs Hughes sees you.
DAISY: M’lady, could I ask something? Only, William, who was in service here —
EDITH: I know William.
DAISY: Well, he’s missing. That is, he was supposed to be back on leave, but he never turned up. He wrote he was coming home for a few days with Captain Crawley…
EDITH: Is William your beau?
DAISY: I wouldn’t say that, no, m’lady. We’re all very fond of William downstairs…
EDITH: Of course you are. Well, I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ll see what I can find out.
DAISY: Thank you.
Edith puts the last books away and moves on, passing Ethel and Major Bryant.
BRYANT: I’ve got sixpence that says you don’t mean it.
ETHEL: Then your sixpence has told you a lie.
He laughs and whispers to her.
30 INT. SMALL LIBRARY. DOWNTON. DAY.
Edith is with Robert.
ROBERT: But how do you know they didn’t change their plans?
EDITH: Well of course I don’t. But the poor girl seemed quite certain.
ROBERT: Just when Isobel’s away and none of us know where she is. Typical.
EDITH: I suppose Matthew might have heard from Cousin Isobel and decided to meet up in France instead.
ROBERT: But that wouldn’t explain why William isn’t here… I’ll do what I can.
31 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
The kitchen is crowded with Mrs Patmore’s extra assistants.
MRS PATMORE: No, don’t stop stirring, the butter will burn! With a pot that size, you can burn the bottom while the top is still stone cold!
She rolls her eyes at Daisy. Nearby, a woman packs some plucked and trussed chickens onto a metal store tray.
MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): You can leave those to Daisy.
She winks at Daisy who puts four chickens into a basket.
MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): That’s it, Daisy. Put them in the special storage area.
The girl nods and walks off. O’Brien has been watching from the doorway. Mrs Patmore sees her standing there.
MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): What do you want?
O’BRIEN: Can I borrow some baking soda?
MRS PATMORE: Borrow? Why? Are you planning to give it back?
32 INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NIGHT.
The family is at the end of dinner. Carson and Anna attend.
CORA: I might go over to Malton tomorrow. Agatha Spenlow is madly promoting her charity fair. Do you need the motor?
ROBERT: I’m afraid I do. Can you get Pratt to take you in the other car?
CORA: It doesn’t matter. I can go on Monday. But why?
ROBERT: I’m told Bates is working at a public house in Kirkbymoorside. I want to investigate.
VIOLET: I can’t decide which part of that speech is the most extraordinary. Why can’t someone else go?
ROBERT: Because I want to go myself.
There is the sound of the telephone in the hall. With a glance at Anna, Carson leaves. Violet turns to Sybil.
VIOLET: So, Sybil, what are you up to, dear?
SYBIL: Nothing much. Working. I don’t have time to get up to anything else.
VIOLET: Only Mary and I were talking about you the other day…
She is sitting next to Sybil and speaking softly, but Mary is on Sybil’s other side. She mimes: ‘I’ve said nothing.’
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