Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 (40 page)

CORA: She couldn't manage it alone.

VIOLET: So how did she do it?

CORA: I helped her. She woke me up and I helped her.

VIOLET: Well. I've often thought this family might be approaching dissolution. I didn't know dissolution was already upon us. Does Robert know?

CORA: No. And he isn't going to.

VIOLET: Oh.

She nods. This, at least, she agrees with.

CORA: Of course it was terribly wrong. It was
all
terribly wrong. But I didn't see how else—

VIOLET: Please! I cannot listen to your attempts to justify yourself.

Cora stands. It is time to bring the meeting to an end.

CORA: I know this has been very hard for you to hear. And God knows it was hard for me to live through. But if you expect me to disown my daughter, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. Good day.

Violet is as motionless as a statue.

Bates is alone, staring at the stars. Anna appears.

ANNA: I thought you must be out here.

BATES: And you were right.

ANNA: I know you're upset.

BATES: Yes. I'm upset. I have worked here for two years and Mr Carson has no difficulty believing the worst of me.

ANNA: I think he has a great deal of difficulty, which is why he hasn't told his lordship yet. Can't you just explain about Thomas?

BATES: Not now. It would sound like a false accusation.

ANNA: You can't take it lying down. Because you're
not
guilty of anything wrong and before it's over I'm going to tell the world.

BATES: Are you? I'm not sure the world is listening.

Sybil walks in to find Gwen turning down her bed.

GWEN: Sorry. I'm a bit late tonight.
*

SYBIL: Not to worry. How are you?

GWEN: Bearing up.

She gives what is meant to be a brave toss of her chin, as she continues to fold the coverlet.

SYBIL: It's not the end. You mustn't give up. We'll get there.

GWEN: Forgive me, m'lady, but you don't get it. You're brought up to think it's all within your grasp, that if you want something enough it'll come to you. But we're not like that. We don't think our dreams are bound to come true, because they almost never do.

SYBIL: Then that's why we must stick together. Your dream is my dream now. And I'll
make
it come true.
*

Thomas is smoking with O'Brien. They're worried.

THOMAS: Why hasn't he done anything? He's had the story and the witnesses.

O'BRIEN: ‘The witnesses'? What do you think this is? A murder mystery?

THOMAS: Well, Mr Bates can't accuse me now. It'll sound as if he's trying to get his own back.

O'BRIEN: If I lose my job over this, I swear to God I'll swing for you.

She stops talking when William walks past on his way to:

William looks in. Daisy is finishing up.

WILLIAM: Is there any stale bread you're throwing out? And some salt.

DAISY: Why?

WILLIAM: Well, I thought I'd make a last hot poultice for Diamond. It'll give him a better night.

DAISY: You big softie. What'll Mr Lynch say?

She pulls the kettle onto the middle of the stove and starts to rummage for the bread.

WILLIAM: Why, he doesn't mind. He says I've got the touch. He thinks I should pack this in and be a groom.

DAISY: Why don't you?

WILLIAM: My Mum. She was so excited when I came here. They're proud of me and I'd hate to spoil that.

DAISY: Do you miss them?

William starts to speak, and then nods his head instead. She brings the bread and a tin bowl to break it up into.

DAISY (CONT'D): I never had that in my childhood. Someone you could always trust.

WILLIAM: I trust them. They trust me. There are no lies in our house.

She is pouring the boiling water in.

WILLIAM (CONT'D): Thanks. That's enough.

He picks up the bowl, still mixing. She watches him go.

Cora and Mary are walking, when Isobel appears.

ISOBEL: I'm glad to catch you. We have a conundrum at the hospital, and I would value your opinions.

CORA: Of course.

ISOBEL: We've been treating the mother of your footman, William Mason.

MARY: What's the matter with her?

ISOBEL: Heart, I'm afraid.

CORA: Why didn't Carson tell us?

ISOBEL: That's the point. She's forbidden us to say anything to her son. She's determined not to worry him and equally fierce that he should not take any extra time off.

MARY: That's ridiculous.

ISOBEL: She's gone home now, but she's still very ill. Clearly the boy should go and see her and I assume you would have no objections?

CORA: Of course not.

ISOBEL: So, do we break a patient's confidence and disobey her orders? Or not?

CORA: We can't. If she's forbidden it.

ISOBEL: I must say I agree with you.

MARY: Well, I'll tell him.

CORA: No, you will not. She has rights too. And there are rules.

MARY: I don't care a fig about rules.

Which earns her a sharp look from her mother.
*

Sybil and Branson are driving into the square, where a crowd has assembled beneath the windows of the Town Hall.

BRANSON: Where to from here, m'lady?

SYBIL: What do you mean? We've arrived.

BRANSON: The meeting's in one of these buildings?

SYBIL: This is the meeting. We're here for the counting of the votes.

BRANSON: I don't understand. I thought that …

SYBIL: Don't be silly, Branson. You didn't think I'd miss my very first by-election?

BRANSON: But I don't think his lordship would approve.

SYBIL: Let me worry about him.

And she jumps out of the car in a trice. The crowd is dense and the driver behind him hoots. He must move on.

BRANSON: I have to park the car! Don't move. Stay where you are!

SYBIL: Really, Branson. I thought I gave the orders.

With a laugh, she pushes into the crowd.

Pharaoh is by the fire. Thomas is at the door.

THOMAS: Sir Anthony Strallan.

Robert, Cora, Mary and Edith stand. They are dressed for dinner, as is Strallan. Cora is slightly flustered.

CORA: Sir Anthony—?

STRALLAN: Don't worry, Lady Grantham. I haven't got the date wrong.

ROBERT: What a relief. I could hear Cora wondering if the dinner would stretch.

Strallan laughs. He is relaxed now.

STRALLAN: No, I'm not really here at all. But I was driving past your gates on my way to the Callender-Becketts,
*
so I thought I'd take a chance. The thing is, I've got two tickets for a concert in York, next Friday, and I was just wondering—

MARY: How nice. The only thing is, I—

STRALLAN: No. I was hoping Lady Edith might like to accompany me.

This is enough to silence them all. Edith is stunned.

EDITH: But I'd love to.

ROBERT: Shouldn't you ask what sort of a concert it is?

STRALLAN: Just Hungry Hundreds stuff, mostly, you know. Bellini, Rossini, Puccini. I'm not up to anything complicated.

EDITH: I'd like that very much.

STRALLAN: It's quite a hike, so I'll pick you up at six. Lady Jervas has asked us for a bite to eat afterwards. If it's all right with your mother?

CORA: By all means.

STRALLAN: I must run. I hope I haven't spoiled your dinner.

With a wave, he is gone, leaving Mary cross and Edith in Paradise. Robert walks up to Cora and speaks very softly.

ROBERT: We may have to hire a nurse, after all.
*

Mrs Patmore and Daisy tip a mousse out of a mould.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, for heaven's sake, hold it steady, if you don't want to start again from the beginning.

DAISY: Do these biscuits go up?

MRS PATMORE: No, I put them out for the fairies.
†

DAISY: Oh.

MRS PATMORE: Of course they're going up.

Daisy nods and puts it all on a tray.

MRS PATMORE (CONT'D): What's wrong with you? You're always dozy, but tonight you'd make Sleeping Beauty look alert.

DAISY: I was just thinking.

MRS PATMORE: Blimey. Batten down the hatches.

DAISY: I think I've let misself down.

MRS PATMORE: It can't be a new sensation.

William walks in, takes the tray from Daisy and goes.

The High Sheriff is reading the results. The crowd is thick below the window where he stands.

HIGH SHERIFF: The Honourable Joseph Gerald Ansty, for the Conservative and Unionist Party: 6,363 votes.
*

The mob is getting more excited.

HIGH SHERIFF (CONT'D): Martin James Dillon, the Socialist Party: 2,741 votes.

There is an absolute howl of booing and shouting, met with an equally forceful cheer. Branson joins Sybil.

BRANSON: Can we call it a day, m'lady?

SYBIL: Don't be silly. This is the moment we've come for.

HIGH SHERIFF: Trevor Andrew Morgan, Liberal Party:

BRANSON: I don't like it. This lot's not interested in politics. They're spoiling for a fight.

SYBIL: They think some things are worth fighting for and I agree with them. So do you, really.

Across the square a door opens. Matthew Crawley emerges. He takes in the general rowdiness and turns to lock it. Then something catches his eye. He starts to move towards the crowd.

HIGH SHERIFF: 5,894 votes.

There is a roar of anger at the defeat of the Liberals.

HIGH SHERIFF (CONT'D): I hereby declare The Honourable Joseph Ansty has been elected to—

But the rest of his speech is lost in the tumult which has turned violent and ugly. We recognise the faces of the trouble-makers as they break windows and smash chairs outside a pub. Matthew fights his way through the chaos.

A truck full of heavies pulls over. A big man shouts.

THUG: Out you get, lads!

They start to climb down. They are pretty frightening.

THUG (CONT'D): We'll wipe the smile off their bloody Tory faces.

They set off towards the crowd.

MATTHEW: Sybil! Branson!

BRANSON: Mr Crawley!

Branson has his arm round Sybil and he is trying to pull her clear. At which point, Matthew reaches them.

MATTHEW: What on earth are you doing here?

SYBIL: I couldn't miss this!

MATTHEW: Couldn't you? I could.