EDITH: Now, I know you’re going to say no, but I was just passing and I suddenly thought, why don’t we go for a drive? Like we used to.
STRALLAN: But didn’t I explain —?
EDITH: I don’t mean you. I can drive now. I’ve got the car with me.
STRALLAN: I don’t think I should. I really can’t spare the time… Would you like a cup of something?
EDITH: All right. Yes, thank you, that would be nice.
She sits, as he goes to ring the bell.
STRALLAN: Is everyone well?
EDITH: Quite well.*
The butler opens the door.
STRALLAN: Lady Edith will be joining me for tea.
BUTLER: Certainly, sir.
He nods and leaves. Strallan turns back to Edith.
STRALLAN: As a matter of fact, I’m glad to have got you to myself for a moment…
EDITH: Oh?
STRALLAN: I feel it gives me the chance to make some things clear… I’m not sure I was that clear when we met the other day. It’s been worrying me.
EDITH: I don’t understand.
STRALLAN: You see, I couldn’t bear for you to think that we might… take up together again, when of course we can’t.
EDITH: Because of what Mary said that time? Because you know it wasn’t true. She only said it to spite me.
STRALLAN: No, it’s not because of that. And if you say it wasn’t true, I’m sure it wasn’t.
Edith is thoroughly puzzled. He starts to explain.
STRALLAN (CONT’D): See, the thing is, I’m far too old for you.
EDITH: I don’t agree.
STRALLAN: Of course I am. And now, well, look… I’m not a man any more, I’m a cripple. I don’t need a wife, I need a nurse. And I couldn’t do that to someone as young and as lovely as you.
EDITH: I don’t accept a single word of that speech.
STRALLAN: Lady Edith —
EDITH: If you think I’m going to give up on someone who calls me lovely —
STRALLAN: I’m afraid you must.
The door opens and the butler appears with a tray. She is silenced, but the look on her face suggests it isn’t over yet.*
* The following lines were cut from this point as the final running order of scenes rendered them unusable:
EDITH: They’re all in York today. That is, Papa and Mary and Matthew are. For the trial.
STRALLAN: It’s today, is it? Dear me. I wonder how they’re getting on.
EDITH: Our lawyer said it won’t take more than one day, so we’ll know the worst this evening.
STRALLAN: Poor chap. You think he’s innocent?
EDITH: Papa’s made it an article of faith, so I wouldn’t dare question it.
* For Strallan’s house we used Hall Barn in Buckinghamshire, which actually had been Maggie Smith’s house in the opening shot of Gosford Park. It was famous because George V used to shoot there as a guest of Lord Burnham, and on one particular day there was an incredible bag – something like 1,000 birds were shot in six hours. It is the only time he was ever known to have made a remark that might qualify as sensitive. Reviewing the incident some time later, he said: ‘We went a little too far that day.’ This is the evidence for a softer side to King George V.
30 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY.
Mason looks up as Daisy comes in with a tray. She pours.
MASON: Oh, lovely. I’d like you to know the place he grew up. He always wanted to work with animals. Horses, really. But his mother saw him as a butler, lording it over a great house…
DAISY: He loved you both so much.
MASON: I’m only grateful his mother went first. She couldn’t have borne it.
DAISY: No… But she would have had to face it, wouldn’t she? Like you. We all have to face the truth, don’t we?
MASON: We do, lass. Hard as it may be.
DAISY: Because I want to tell you the truth.
Mrs Patmore has drawn near to the door. She is listening.
DAISY (CONT’D): You see, William and me were friends for a long time before he started to feel something more…
MASON: Well, that’s always the best way, isn’t it? To know that there’s friendship, as well as passion.
DAISY: Yes. But you see, I didn’t…
She looks down at this sad, good man, looking up at her.
DAISY (CONT’D): I didn’t feel the love so soon, so I’m afraid I wasted some of the time we could have spent together.
MASON: No, you didn’t, Daisy. You gave him the thrill of the chase. He talked of nothing but you from dawn ’til the cows came home. And when he saw you felt the same, well, the pleasure was all the sweeter for the waiting. I promise you.
DAISY: Good.
MASON: So when are you going to come to the farm?
DAISY: I’ll let you know… Shall I get you some more hot water?
She takes the jug, walking past Mrs Patmore. She whispers.
DAISY (CONT’D): More lies.
MRS PATMORE: Were they?*
* We don’t agree with Daisy here. We think William was entitled to die happy. I’m not a believer that honesty is always the best policy or that everything should be told. I know that is some people’s credo, but it’s not mine and I am entirely on Mrs Patmore’s side here, thinking that nothing will be helped by the truth.
31 EXT. WOODLAND. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY.
The wood is quite dense. Mary and Carlisle walk towards a numbered peg. A horn blows.
CARLISLE: Well, that’s the horn. Where’s the damn loader?
MARY: Looking for your damn peg, I imagine.
He stares upward, annoyed, as some birds fly overhead.
CARLISLE: Why were you laughing with Matthew? At the end of the first drive?
MARY: I suppose he said something funny.
CARLISLE: Am I never to be free of him?
MARY: Of course not. You know how families like ours work, and he’ll be head of it, one day.
CARLISLE: I might understand if you’d let me think for a solitary minute that you preferred my company to his. I have tried, Mary. Give me that. I’ve done everything I can to please you —
MARY: If you mean you’ve bought a large and rather vulgar house —
Thirty yards away, Matthew is alone by a peg. He hears shouting and follows the sound, pushing through the wood.
CARLISLE (V.O.): You cannot talk to me like that! What have I done to deserve it? What?
MATTHEW: Is something the matter?
They look round and he is standing there.
MARY: Richard’s loader seems to have got lost, and this is one of the best drives. He’s missing all the fun.
MATTHEW: I see.
He does see. A loader carrying two guns and a bag appears.
CARLISLE: Where the bloody hell have you been?
LOADER: Sorry, sir.
MARY: I’m afraid Sir Richard’s rather anxious to begin.
Muttering apologies, the man hurriedly starts to load the first gun from his cartridge bag. Matthew nods at Mary.
MATTHEW: I’d better get back to my post.
LOADER: There you are, sir.*
* Carlisle takes everything seriously, and one of the hallmarks of a gentleman is that they take everything lightly. But the other side of that argument is that it explains why gentlemen are so seldom successful in competitive business and why, on the whole, they are happier with a role carved out for them as an officer or landowner or something, which will allow for their gentle and attractive manner, but will keep them safe from having to compete. Carlisle’s level of achievement, by contrast, is precisely because everything is deadly serious to him, which I admire. In fact, when Carlisle says, ‘I might understand if you’d let me think for a solitary minute that you preferred my company to his,’ I am on Carlisle’s side. He wants to marry Mary, he is prepared to swallow her murky history, but even so, she will not give him a break. For her, the fact that she’s prepared to marry him should be enough. But it’s not
quite enough, is it?
32 INT. BARN ON THE DOWNTON ESTATE. NEW YEAR’S DAY.
The luncheon is set out in a barn, but the table is spread with a cloth and laid exactly as it would be at Downton, with Carson and Thomas serving. They are at the very end of the feed, with a large Stilton which they have eaten from. Cora and Isobel are with them.*
ISOBEL: Where’s Lord Hepworth gone?
ROBERT: He wanted to change his guns, and we ought to drink up, too, or Barnard will be angry with me.
ISOBEL: Robert, Matthew is going to York for Bates’s trial and, um… well, I wondered if I might come as well.
ROBERT: Of course, if you want to.
ISOBEL: Cora’s told me she’s not going, and I feel I just might be useful. As part of the bucking-up brigade.
ROBERT: That’s kind. Thank you.
ISOBEL: It’s odd, isn’t it? Us just chatting away here, while that poor man waits to hear his fate.
ROBERT: Please don’t make me feel any worse than I do already.
At the serving table, Carson hisses at Thomas, who is piling the used plates into a hamper.
CARSON: Have we time to serve the coffee or not?
THOMAS: I’m not sure, Mr Carson. We could have used one of the maids today.
CARSON: Maids at a shooting lunch? Hardly.
Further down the table, Mary is next to Matthew.
MARY: Anna’s very grateful you’re coming with us.
MATTHEW: Why, I have to go to London, but I’ll be back.
MARY: What are you going for?
MATTHEW: Reggie Swire’s funeral. He wanted his ashes to be buried in Lavinia’s grave. I’ll bring them back.
MARY: What does Mr Travis say?
MATTHEW: I haven’t asked him. I thought I’d do it myself one day.
MARY: Well, let me know when. I’d like to be there. If you don’t mind.
MATTHEW: No, I don’t mind.
Carlisle is watching all this.*
* Shooting lunches are quite a big part of the day and there were certain rituals practised in that era, many of which are now gone. For instance, it was the only time in some houses when a footman served at table with no gloves, because they didn’t wear livery and would often be in tweeds – but then again, there were some great ducal palaces where the whole thing was done like an ordinary lunch.
I remember when we first saw the shot of the beaters and loaders having their lunch outside, it was very dark. They’d had to film it at the wrong time of day, but they managed to correct it. As usual, Alastair Bruce is one of the guns at the table, making sure everything is done properly. The whole business of lunch in a barn, of taking the sacred rites to another place, but still having it served by a butler and a footman, is a curious sort of cultural anomaly that I rather enjoy. In Gosford Park they have lunch in a temple, which was actually far too cold. I pointed that out to Robert Altman, but he paid it no mind.
In my own life, I remember once, when I was very young, staying in a grand house. It was in the summer, and the hostess said: ‘You know, it’s such a lovely day I think we’ll have a picnic lunch. Let’s all meet here at a quarter to one.’ So I got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with Bluto on the front, and some gym shoes. I went downstairs and the whole of the rest of the house party were dressed just as they would normally. We then walked along the terrace to a Gothic summer house where luncheon had been laid with a butler and a footman to serve it, and I had to sit there in my Bluto T-shirt feeling about an inch high. After a bit, the woman on my left, Lady Someone Nice, turned to me and said: ‘Of course, you’re much more sensibly dressed than we are.’ I loved her for that.
* The thing about these group scenes – the luncheons, the dinners, the drawing-room scenes, and so on – is that they always have to advance about six or seven stories at the same time, often by no more than a line. So the audience has to store it all and then put the plots together at the end.
33 INT. KITCHEN. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY. NIGHT.
Daisy takes the dirty plates out of the hampers.
SHORE: It seems hard you have to clean out the hampers, when you cooked all the food that went into them.
DAISY: It’s all right.
SHORE: But you’ve a skill, Daisy. Let it bring you a better life. The Lord helps those who help themselves.
DAISY: Do you believe that, Miss Shore?
SHORE: I know it. And call me Marigold.
34 INT. DRAWING ROOM. DOWER HOUSE. NEW YEAR’S DAY. NIGHT.
Violet is with Hepworth, in his shooting clothes, with stockinged feet below his breeches, having tea.*
VIOLET: This is very nice of you. To spare some time for a poor old woman. Won’t they miss you at the tea?
HEPWORTH: I’ll regain some novelty value at dinner.
VIOLET: Very well. What shall we talk about? Hatton? Shall we discuss why you never go there now? Or Loch Earle? Or what about Hepworth House in Grosvenor Square? I spent so many happy evenings there, with your father in hot pursuit.
She stares at him. At last, he nods.
HEPWORTH: I see it’s time for some honesty.
VIOLET: A change is as good as a rest.
HEPWORTH: I think you know that Hatton’s gone. So has Loch Earle. And Hepworth House has so many mortgages, I — I could only sell it at a loss.
VIOLET: So my spies tell me… So you want Rosamund, or rather the fortune of the late Mr Painswick, to come to the rescue?
HEPWORTH: My feelings for Lady Rosamund are sincere. I admire her immensely.
VIOLET: I do not doubt it. My only fear is that you admire her money more.
HEPWORTH: Lady Rosamund is too young to be alone. And you’ll concede there are many varieties of happy marriage.
VIOLET: Maybe. But they are all based on honesty. I insist you tell the truth about your circumstances to Rosamund. After that, it’s up to her.
HEPWORTH: My father was very smitten with you, you know. He often told me so.
VIOLET: He may have been. But you see, he could not afford me. And I could not afford him.*
* When guns come in for tea, they take their muddy boots off, but they often have no replacement footwear with them and so they have their tea in stockinged feet. This is quite ordinary, even if it is one of the only times you ever see such a thing with these people, so I felt it would be rather a nice touch here. For Violet, the fact that one of the guns is in stockinged feet for tea after a shoot wouldn’t mean anything, because she’d have seen it all her life. I think that’s nice.
* I was sorry when we cut the lines about Hepworth’s father, because it finished the hinted-at plot of Violet’s youthful romance with old Lord Hepworth. Without Violet’s explanation, we never know why she didn’t go on with it. But there we are. Needs must.
35 INT. SERVANTS’ HALL. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY. NIGHT.
Anna is there with Shore and Thomas.
THOMAS: I see Lord Hepworth is trying to butter up the old lady.
ANNA: How do you know that?
THOMAS: He told me he’d been there for tea.
ANNA: Will Lady Rosamund take him?
SHORE: She will if I’ve got any say in it.
THOMAS: And have you?
SHORE: Is that clock right?
ANNA: We should get going, if you want Lady Rosamund to have a hot bath.
36 CARSON’S PANTRY. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY. NIGHT.
Mrs Hughes has brought a letter to read.
MRS HUGHES: What do you make of this? ‘If Mrs Bryant and I were to arrive early, we would like the use of a ground-floor room for an hour or so before our proposed meeting. We won’t require any help from the servants. Might this be allowed?’
CARSON: Have you asked her ladyship?
MRS HUGHES: I have and she’s all for saying yes. But then she’d say anything to get them out of our hair for good.
CARSON: Well, we can’t countermand her. Give them the drawing room. That’ll disturb his lordship least.
MRS HUGHES: I’d
like to know what they’re planning. It won’t be for Ethel’s benefit, that’s for sure.
37 INT. DINING ROOM. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY. NIGHT.
Dinner is over and only the end of the fruit course and the glasses remain on the table. Everyone is already on their feet. The men are waiting for the women to leave. Hepworth speaks to Rosamund as she is on her way to the door.
HEPWORTH: When the men go through, can I steal you for a moment?
ROSAMUND: Why, particularly?
HEPWORTH: There’s something I should tell you.
ROSAMUND: Something nice, I hope.
HEPWORTH: Not very nice, no. But you can make the nastiness go away.
ROSAMUND: ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said Alice.
Carlisle seems to have caught at Mary’s arm as she was walking past him. He is finishing an argument.
CARLISLE: I’m only asking to set a date.
MARY: But what’s the hurry?
CARLISLE: Hurry? Glaciers are fast compared to you on this, Mary. I warn you, even my patience has its limits!
The other women have gone by now and so Mary is the last of them to leave. The other men sit down again, but Robert and Matthew have overheard this angry little exchange.*
* This is a trick we use several times, which is the moment at the end of dinner when the ladies leave and everyone stands. The women are going into the drawing room, while the men will stay behind for a glass of port. It gives you different conjunctions of people who haven’t sat next to each other at the table. Here, we have the moment of Carlisle’s rage with Mary, which, if the audience is alert, will hint at the probable result. Because nobody tells Mary what to do.
38 INT. HALL. DOWNTON. NEW YEAR’S DAY. NIGHT.
Attended by Thomas, Cora, Edith and Rosamund are entering the drawing room when Mary hears Matthew call softly.
MATTHEW: Mary… Can I help?
MARY: After today, I won’t insult you by asking what you mean.
MATTHEW: You don’t have to marry him, you know. You don’t have to marry anyone. You’ll always have a home here, as long as I’m alive.
MARY: Didn’t the war teach you never to make promises…? And anyway, you’re wrong. I do have to marry him.
MATTHEW: But why? Not to prove you’ve broken with me, surely? We know where we stand. We’ve no need for gestures.
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