Daisy is with the others when she sees a solitary figure. He is standing by a grave on the other side. It is Mr Mason. She goes over to him and he greets her.
MASON: I’ve been hoping I might meet you here one day. I expect you come as often as I try to do.
DAISY: It was a funeral. Of a lady that was going to marry Mr Crawley.
MASON: I heard about that. There’s nothing so wrong as when young folks die.
Daisy nods, looking at William’s grave. To her discomfort, she finds she is crying, and wipes her tears away quickly.
MASON (CONT’D): Nay. You needn’t hide your tears from me, love. It does me good to see how much you loved him. It does. It means he didn’t die for nothing.
What can Daisy say? Meanwhile, Matthew is with Mary.
MARY: You must tell me if there’s anything I can do? Anything at all?
MATTHEW: Thank you, but I don’t think so.
She nods and might walk away, but he speaks again.
MATTHEW (CONT’D): That night, when we were dancing and Lavinia came downstairs… she heard, she — she saw everything.
MARY: How terrible for her. I’m so sorry.
MATTHEW: Because of what she saw, she thought we should cancel the wedding. That I belonged with you, not with her.
Mary doesn’t quite grasp where this is going. He explains.
MATTHEW (CONT’D): She gave up, because of us. She said to me when she was dying, ‘Isn’t this better?’ I know it’s a cliché, but I believe she died of a broken heart because of that kiss… And we were the ones who killed her.
MARY: Oh, Matthew…
MATTHEW: We could never be happy now. Don’t you see? When we destroyed Lavinia, we destroyed any chance we might have had. We’re cursed, you and I, and there’s nothing to be done about it. Let’s be strong, Mary. Let’s accept that this is the end.
MARY: Yes, of course it is… Of course it’s the end. How could it not be?
Richard Carlisle approaches. He speaks to Matthew.
CARLISLE: I’m so very sorry about this.
MATTHEW: Thank you.
Carlisle turns to Mary.
CARLISLE: Can I walk you up to the house, or —?
MARY: Certainly you can. I want you to.
She takes his arm, and without a backward look they move off.* Robert is alone when he sees Sybil with Branson. He approaches them. Branson braces himself.
ROBERT: Why are you here?
BRANSON: To pay my respects to Miss Swire, and to see Sybil.
ROBERT: Lady Sybil.
SYBIL: Oh, Papa, what’s the point in all that nonsense?†
ROBERT: I suppose you’ll go to Dublin now. Isn’t that your plan?
SYBIL: In a day or two. Mama is well again. And I see no reason to delay. Although I do so wish we could have parted friends.
ROBERT: What about you? Do you want to part friends?
BRANSON: I do. Although I don’t expect to.
Robert stops walking. Most of the mourners have gone on, and they are almost alone. He looks at his daughter.
ROBERT: All right.
SYBIL: What?
ROBERT: Well, if I can’t stop you, I see no profit in a quarrel. You’ll have a very different life from the one you might have lived. But if you’re sure it’s what you want —
SYBIL: I am.
ROBERT: Then you may take my blessing with you, whatever that means.
SYBIL: Oh, Papa, it means more than anything. More than anything!
She is weeping as she hugs him. Robert turns to Branson.
ROBERT: If you mistreat her, I will personally have you torn to pieces by wild dogs.
BRANSON: I’d expect no less.
SYBIL: Will you come over for the wedding?
ROBERT: We’ll see… We’ll talk about that later. And there’ll be some money.
He pauses, and in an admonitory tone:
ROBERT (CONT’D): But not much.
Robert proffers his hand to Branson. Branson takes it and the two men shake hands. Sybil takes Branson’s hand and walks on up towards the house.
VIOLET (V.O.): So, you’ve given in?
She is watching him from a short distance away. He shrugs.
ROBERT: She would have gone anyway.
He looks around after the distant mourners.
ROBERT (CONT’D): And perhaps we should let Lavinia’s last gift to us be a reminder of what really matters… Of course, you’ll think that’s soft.
VIOLET: Oh, not at all. The aristocracy has not survived by its intransigence. Oh, no, no. We must work with what we’ve got, to minimise the scandal.
ROBERT: But what have we got to work with?
VIOLET: Well, you’d be surprised. He’s political, isn’t he? And a writer? Well, I could make something out of that. And there’s a family called Branson with a place not far from Cork. I believe they have a connection with the Howards. Well, surely we can hitch him onto them…?
During this they walk away from the camera, arm in arm.*
* I think it was right to take out Violet’s rather harsh remark at the start of this scene. She is, after all, not an unkind woman. But the main intention here was to show the audience that, just as they might think Mary and Matthew have at last got to the straight now that Lavinia’s out of the way, they haven’t at all. We have to make it more complicated than that. I think it was truthful. When someone dies, and their death makes things easier, there is always a certain amount of guilt attached, especially in a situation like this one, when Matthew has actually been untrue in his heart to the promises he made. It would be perfectly natural for a man in such a position to feel crippling guilt as he stood by the side of his fiancée’s grave. Inevitably, he feels that he and Mary deserve to be punished. She understands this and, at this point, starts to accept that she will probably end up with Carlisle.
† I had a friend who was the daughter of an earl, but who married a man whom I think I can still call ‘unlikely’. Obviously, this was in comparatively modern times, perhaps thirty years ago, but her mother would continue to address her letters to Lady Mary X, until one day her daughter said to her: ‘I don’t mind. If that’s what you want to write on the envelope, it’s absolutely fine. But that just isn’t the life I’m leading. Not any more.’ I remember this because it was a hard thing for the mother to let go of. Not that she was a snob – she wasn’t at all, actually – but it was difficult for her to accept that her daughter had moved into a different world, far away from her own. So I felt to give Robert this attitude would be a good way of showing his resistance.
* Robert dropping his resistance to the marriage feels believable to me, because his acceptance is within limits. He is just not prepared to quarrel with his daughter. I think most of us would do the same, eventually, however much you might have fought your child’s choice. Actually, I don’t have a problem with fighting it. Lots of people will tell you there’s nothing you can do, but I think that’s nonsense. And if you don’t have a relationship with your son or daughter where you can speak your mind, then the more fool you. But there comes a moment when most of us are not prepared to live on terms of enmity with our own offspring, and that’s what Robert has reached.
Which brings us to Violet’s pragmatism, born of the same impulse to make the best of it. I was given the idea for her plan by one of the heralds at the College of Arms. He told me once of an old gentry family, nameless here of course, to which a famous and senior politician had laid claim. In fact, there was absolutely no traceable blood connection at all, but they were as pleased by the fictional relationship as he was. So from then on, whenever there was a family event, he would be in the front pew, even though there was no real link whatever. I thought something similar would occur to Violet as a solution.
77 INT. PASSAGE/SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. DAY.
The servants have returned. They take off their coats and resume their aprons, etc. Bates and Anna walk in. Mrs Patmore glimpses them out of the kitchen door and hurries ove
r.
MRS PATMORE: Mr Bates.
He stops. But she is almost too nervous to speak.
BATES: You all right, Mrs Patmore?
MRS PATMORE: I’m all right, but I don’t know what you’ll be like when I’ve told you. There are two men waiting for you in the servants’ hall.
He looks at Anna. Then, watched by Mrs Patmore and Daisy, Bates and Anna walk into the servants’ hall, where two men in bowler hats and overcoats stand as they enter.
BATES: Are you looking for me?
POLICE OFFICER: John Bates?
BATES: Yes.
POLICE OFFICER: You are under arrest on the charge of wilful murder. You are not obliged to say anything unless you desire to do so. Whatever you say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence against you upon your trial.
BATES: I understand.
The other policeman has brought out a set of handcuffs.
ANNA: No, no.
BATES: Please do whatever is required.
The man snaps the handcuffs on him. Bates whispers to Anna.
BATES (CONT’D): I love you.
ANNA: And I love you. For richer, for poorer, for better, for worse.
She kisses him, but she can say no more for they are taking him out. The other servants stand there, shocked, as Bates is led away.*
* It seems to me both believable and right that Bates should be placed under arrest, as all the evidence is against him, so this is not meant to be an attack on the injustice of the system. But I hope the audience found it heartbreaking after all that the lovers have gone through. I was particularly impressed by the shot of Joanne Froggatt at the end, when the camera pulls back, leaving Anna so vulnerable… You’ve always got to give the audience a reason for coming back next time.
END OF EPISODE EIGHT
ACT ONE*
1 EXT/INT. MONTAGE. DAY.
Christmas 1919. A truck drives through the woods with a huge tree strapped on the back of it.
The truck pulls up in front of the house. Thomas instructs the men to untie the tree.
Daisy carries buckets of coals and stops to admire the tree until Mrs Hughes enters the hall and tells her off.
Mrs Hughes, Thomas, O’Brien and the maids help Mary and Edith to decorate the tree, supervised by Carson and Robert, who give contradictory higher/lower gestures and commands. In a corner, Anna watches, silently.
Rosamund steps out of the car, kisses her nieces and instructs her maid, Shore, who gets out of the front, to help Thomas with the luggage.
Cora and O’Brien kneel on the drawing-room floor wrapping presents together and scream when Matthew opens the door, shooing him out.
Carson chooses different wines.
In the library, Violet picks up a Christmas card, looks closely at the signature, grimaces and puts it back.†
* Since we had not done one before, we felt the first Christmas Special should be a Christmas show. The great hall at Highclere lends itself to a giant Christmas tree, and besides, it was an opportunity to explore the rituals of a country house Christmas, which I freely confess tended to be those of my own childhood Christmas. Every family develops their particular programme for the festive season and most of the Downton details – the turkey eaten in the evening and not at lunchtime, playing ‘the game’ after dinner, and other things we’ll get to – have come from my family customs. But the Crawleys also have their own traditions like everyone else.
Christmas 1919 was dictated by the narrative. Bates had been arrested for murder at the end of Season Two, and there is a limit to how much time you can leave between the arrest and the trial of a principal character. By featuring the trial in the Special, it meant that we could lose all the preliminaries and jump straight to the courtroom itself; in other words, cut to the meat. We also liked the idea of it being the end of 1919, so that the Servants’ Ball could come just after New Year, in January 1920. This would allow the audience to grasp that the next series would take them into yet another era, leaving the war far behind.
† The montage of preparations for Christmas is taken from life, as well as accounts of Christmases at various houses long ago. I’m always accused of sentimentalising these things, but inevitably these rituals of decorating the tree and everything else involved the staff as much as they did the family. And Christmas was, in many households if not in all, quite a useful bonding period between employers and employed, because there was a unifying element to the whole thing. The semi-democracy of the firm’s Christmas party is, after all, still with us.
2 INT. HALL. DOWNTON. CHRISTMAS DAY.
It is Christmas at Downton, with a huge tree in the hall, and Cora, Mary and Edith give out presents to the servants in turn. Isobel, Matthew, Rosamund and Carlisle are there. The maids are given a bolt of cloth as well as something wrapped. Mary calls out ‘Anna’, and Anna goes forward.
CORA: This is for you.
MARY: The usual cloth for a frock, I’m afraid, but I hope you like the other thing.
ANNA: I’m sure I will, m’lady. Thank you.‡
CORA: We all prayed for him in church this morning.
Anna smiles a little.
ROBERT: Happy Christmas, Anna.
Cora calls for Mrs Patmore, who steps forward, as Anna walks back to stand by Mrs Hughes.
CORA: I can’t wait for you to open this.
MRS PATMORE: Thank you, your ladyship.
MRS HUGHES: What did her ladyship say?
ANNA: She was just being kind.
MRS HUGHES: I wish I could tell you not to worry.
ANNA: My husband’s on trial for his life, Mrs Hughes. Of course I worry.
MRS HUGHES: Well, I’m old-fashioned enough to believe that they can’t prove him guilty when he’s not.
ANNA: Would you mind if I didn’t join you for Christmas luncheon?
MRS HUGHES: You have friends all around you.
ANNA: I know that. Truly. But I’d rather take a tray up. Unless you’d like me to help in the dining room?
MRS HUGHES: No. They look after themselves at lunch on Christmas Day, and I don’t want to give them any ideas.
Robert is talking to Carson. The latter has a large book.
CARSON: The Royal Families of Europe. Oh, my. I shall find this very interesting, m’lord.*
ROBERT: Good… Carson, are you quite happy about everything?
CARSON: What, precisely, m’lord?
ROBERT: Well… Going on with Christmas and the New Year’s Day shoot and the Servants’ Ball and all the rest of it, with Bates in his lonely cell.
CARSON: I’m as sorry as you are, m’lord. But I do not believe Mr Bates would want us to abandon the traditions of Downton because of his troubles.
Across the hall, Anna looks at her little wrapped box.
MRS HUGHES: Go on. Open it.
She does. It contains a gold brooch in the shape of a heart. She glances across at Mary, who catches her eye and nods.
‡ The bolt of cloth was absolutely standard. Female servants were given material for a new dress, which they were expected to make up themselves. One of the tougher aspects of life in service was that the women and downstairs staff were expected to provide their own clothes, whereas employers would equip the footmen with livery. If clothing was bought for the maids, the cost would be subtracted from their wages, which I always find very harsh. But many families – including, of course, the Crawleys, because they’re nice – got round it by making the bolt of cloth part of the Christmas present. Of course, it wasn’t really a present, in the sense that it was material for clothes to work in, but nevertheless it didn’t cost the maid anything.
It may seem to be asking a lot for them all to make their own dresses, but sewing was routinely taught as part of a village school education, where the emphasis was entirely on necessary skills to gain employment. The goal was that the boys and girls would leave able to earn their living. Indeed, the handwriting of the clerks of that period is absolutely superb compared to our own, and nu
meracy was a very important part of it. Beyond that, the girls were probably taught more sewing than cookery, the idea being that, on the whole, the only people who would be employed to cook were cooks, and that was quite a narrow element of the female workforce. Sewing, on the other hand, was something that would come in useful for everyone. The giving of the bolt of cloth is part of that tradition.
* This is my joke about Carson’s being given the book, The Royal Families of Europe, which was published by Burke’s Peerage and of course included all those endless families in Germany, the princes of Anhalt-Dessau and Mecklenburg-Schwerin and such like. It always makes our producer, Gareth Neame, chuckle when he sees this scene, but I am sure that Carson, and others like him, would want to be up in all the details of the continental reigning families.
3 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. CHRISTMAS DAY.
The servants are nearly at the end of their lunch. We start with the younger ones, who are pulling crackers and wearing paper hats. At the other end, Mrs Hughes and Carson are not.
MRS HUGHES: I don’t want to spoil their fun, but I couldn’t wear a paper hat. Not with poor Mr Bates locked away.
CARSON: His lordship said much the same.
A lady’s maid, Marigold Shore, who was in the hall, speaks.
SHORE: Is Mr Bates the one Lady Rosamund told me about? The murderer.
CARSON: Mr Bates has most unjustly been accused of murder. That is all.
SHORE: All? I should think that’s quite enough for most people.
Anna walks in with her tray. The room falls silent.
MRS HUGHES: Did you have everything you wanted?
ANNA: Yes, thank you. I thought I’d go and make a start on the dining room.
MRS HUGHES: It’s almost time to take the tea up. No rest for the wicked.
Anna leaves. Thomas looks after her.
THOMAS: Mr Carson, if things don’t go right for Mr Bates, have you given any thought to his replacement?
CARSON: There will be plenty of time for that conversation after the trial.
Thomas leans back and talks to O’Brien on his other side.
THOMAS: I mean, I hope he’s coming back. I do, honestly. But the fact remains he may not be, and there’s no point in being overly sentimental.
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