Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1

A CARNIVAL FILMS/MASTERPIECE CO-PRODUCTION

THE COMPLETE SCRIPTS

SEASON ONE

JULIAN FELLOWES

To Emma and Peregrine,
Downton
's sternest critics and most fervent supporters.

Dedication

Foreword

Episode One

Episode Two

Episode Three

Episode Four

Episode Five

Episode Six

Episode Seven

Cast List

Production Credits

Acknowledgements

Photo Section

Credits

Copyright

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About the Publisher

NOTE: Lines surrounding the script text indicated sections of text that were cut from the original script to make the final edited version.

It is not given to many to write themselves into a whirlwind on the scale of
Downton Abbey
. I am often asked why it has all happened, and while I try to come up with various reasons, I don't really know the answer. What I do know is that it is a great privilege to be allowed to invent a community and to continue to track their fortunes, through ill wind and good, with the luxury of space and length that only television can give you. Of course none of it would have come to pass without our consistently marvellous crew and our truly extraordinary actors, every one of whom has fleshed out their characters until they are controlling me and not the other way round. I cannot name favourites, except to proclaim that they are all my favourites, and I thank God for them.

This is a chance to see the complete scripts of the first series as they were when they went forward into production. Of course, when any show is filmed, parts of the screenplay will be cut, either before shooting begins or in the edit, but here you are allowed to read the whole script, as it once was. Cuts are sometimes made because the visual realisation of the story renders elements and scenes redundant; then again, some of the cuts are to gain time. Either way, there is, I hope, a certain interest in learning what went and what stayed, and in places, I have added notes to explain the choices and the decisions made.

One thing I can say is that working on
Downton
has been an extraordinary and fulfilling experience in every way. The show, and everything to do with it, has made me feel a very lucky man.

Julian Fellowes

 

 

At dawn, a steam train travels through this lovely part of England. As the camera moves in, we can see a man, whom we will know as John Bates, sitting by himself in a second class carriage. Above him run the telegraph wires, humming with their unrevealed, urgent messages. The train flies on.

A postmaster is sorting the letters with his wife when there's a noise. They look at each other.

POSTMASTER: You do it.

Clearly, this is not what she wants to hear. She sits in the corner, puts on a heavy set of headphones and listens.

POSTMASTER'S WIFE: Oh my God.

She starts to write on a telegram form. Then she takes off the headphones as he draws near. She lets him read it.

POSTMASTER: That's impossible. It can't be.

If anything, he's more shocked than she is.

POSTMASTER (CONT'D): I'll take it up there now.

POSTMASTER'S WIFE: Jimmy can do it when he comes in.

POSTMASTER: Better take it now.

POSTMASTER'S WIFE: Don't be stupid. None of them will be up for hours and what difference will it make?

But she sighs and shakes her head with sorrow. The credits begin.

April 1912—The sun is rising behind Downton Abbey, a great and splendid house in a great and splendid park. So secure does it appear, that it seems as if the way of life it represents will last for another thousand years. It won't.
*

There is a sharp knock on the door.

DAISY (V.O.): Six o'clock.

GWEN: Thank you, Daisy.
†

She looks across at the other body in the bed.

GWEN (CONT'D): Anna?

ANNA: Just once in my life, I'd like to sleep until I woke up natural.

She groans and lies back, eyes closed.

Daisy the scullery maid is raking out the clinker.
*
Mrs Patmore, the cook, comes in and ties on her apron.

MRS PATMORE: Is your fire still in?

DAISY: Yes, Mrs Patmore.

MRS PATMORE: My, my, will wonders never cease? Have you laid the servants' hall breakfast?

DAISY: Yes, Mrs Patmore.

MRS PATMORE: And finished blacking that stove?

DAISY: Yes, Mrs Patmore.

MRS PATMORE: What about the bedroom fires?

DAISY: All lit, Mrs Patmore.

MRS PATMORE: I suppose you woke them?

DAISY: I don't think so.
†

MRS PATMORE: Then take your basket and get started on the fires on the ground floor.

Daisy gets to her feet and lifts the heavy basket.

Daisy comes up the grim kitchen staircase and pushes open the door. Beyond is a different world, with the light from a high glass dome playing on the pictures in their gilt frames, on the Turkey carpets, on the rich, shining woods of the furniture and gleaming floor. In a long, tracking shot, we follow the maid as she crosses the great hall into the marble-floored entrance hall, and on into a small library. She checks the fire. It has not been lit, so she moves on into the main library, vast, gilded and splendid. The first footman, Thomas, has just finished opening the shutters and he passes her without a word, as she kneels and glumly starts to brush out the grate. We follow Thomas.
*

… into the richly furnished dining room. He opens the shutters as his junior, William, comes in with a tray.

THOMAS: Where have you been?

WILLIAM: I'm not late, am I?

THOMAS: You're late when I say you're late.
*

William starts to spread a white damask table cloth.

Anna and Gwen open the curtains and shutters. Anna turns.

ANNA: Daisy? Whatever are you doing there, crouching in the dark?

The wretched Daisy is bent over the fire grate.

DAISY: You weren't here and I didn't like to touch the curtains with my dirty hands.

GWEN: Quite right, too.

ANNA: Why didn't you put the lights on?

DAISY: I dursen't.

GWEN: It's electricity, not the devil's handiwork. You'll have to get used to it sooner or later.

ANNA: At Skelton Park, they've even got it in the kitchens.

DAISY: What for?
†

And the maids, so crisp and clean in their outfits, plump the cushions and dust and tidy and make the kitchen maid, still hard at it in the ashes, feel very small indeed.

The august figure of Mrs Hughes, the housekeeper, walks down a passage in her black dress, keys at her belt. She pauses by an open door and goes in.

The fire is alight. William is finishing the table while Thomas sets out the dish holders on the sideboard and fits their oil lamps. Mrs Hughes stands for a moment.

MRS HUGHES: It's musty in here. Open a window.

Thomas stares at her.

MRS HUGHES (CONT'D): It's all right, Thomas. I'm not countermanding Mr Carson's orders. I suppose I can ask for a window to be opened without your calling the police.

Thomas is not convinced but he opens the window.
*

MRS HUGHES (CONT'D): William, go and tell Mr Carson that breakfast is ready.

Carson, the butler, sits in his magnificence. He wears an apron for his early duties. The silver safe is open nearby and three candlesticks are on his table. William knocks.

WILLIAM: Breakfast is ready, Mr Carson.

CARSON: Ah, William. Any papers yet?

WILLIAM: They're late.

CARSON: They certainly are. Get the board out, so you can do them as soon as they're here.

William opens a cupboard and takes out a blackened ironing board which he sets up. An iron is heating on the grate.

CARSON (CONT'D): Do you know what's happened to the fourth of the Lamerie candlesticks?

WILLIAM: His lordship took one up with him. He went straight from the dining room to bed.

CARSON: Did he, indeed? I'm trusting you to fetch it back when he's out of his rooms. Why didn't Thomas tell me last night?