Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 (24 page)

GWEN: When does it open?

BATES: Tomorrow afternoon.

GWEN: Let's get up a party for the evening if Mrs Hughes lets us. After we've had our dinner.

ANNA: You're right. It doesn't come often and it doesn't stay long.

GWEN: And what about you, Mr Bates?

BATES: I don't see why not.

Anna sees Mary loitering on the edge of the Green.

ANNA: You go on ahead. I'll see you back at the house.

Mary is watching the activity when Anna joins her.

ANNA: Is everything all right, m'lady?

Which jerks Mary out of her reverie.

MARY: What? Oh, yes. I was collecting something from Doctor Clarkson for Mama, and I stopped to see how they were getting on.

ANNA: Has she recovered from …

She lifts her eyebrows slightly as they start to walk away.

MARY: If you think she'll
ever
recover from carrying the body of Mr Pamuk from one side of the house to the other, then you don't know her at all.

ANNA: Well, I didn't mean ‘recover' exactly. Just, get past it.

MARY: She won't do that, either. When she dies they'll cut her open and find it engraved on her heart.

ANNA: What about you? What about your heart?

MARY: Haven't you heard? I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that.
*

ANNA: Not me, m'lady. Still, at least you were lucky with … you know.

Mary instinctively lays her hand on her stomach.

MARY: Oh, yes. I was lucky there. That's me. Lucky as a lark.

But these two are friends now. Across the Green, Isobel and Matthew also watch the fair workers. They wave.

ANNA: I'm glad you think better of Mr Crawley, these days.

MARY: Who says I do?

Mary smiles as they walk on.

Robert is working, with Pharaoh at his feet. Carson enters.

CARSON: You wanted to see the new chauffeur, m'lord.

ROBERT: Yes, indeed. Please bring him in.

Carson nods and a young man, in his thirties, appears. This is Tom Branson. He is attractive and polite. Carson leaves.

ROBERT: Come in, come in. Good to see you again … Branson, isn't it?

BRANSON: That's right, your lordship.

ROBERT: I hope they've shown you where everything is? And we've delivered whatever we promised at the interview?

BRANSON: Certainly, m'lord.

ROBERT: Good.

Robert finds him rather an interesting character.

ROBERT: How did you first come to be a chauffeur?

BRANSON: My father was a tenant of Mrs Delderfield's and I was apprenticed to the chauffeur there. But he'd been a coachman and he didn't have much feeling for cars. In the end, the mistress asked me to take over.

ROBERT: Won't you miss Ireland?

BRANSON: Ireland, yes, but not the job. She was a nice lady, but she only had one car and she wouldn't let me drive it over twenty miles an hour. So it was a bit … well, boring, so to speak.

Which makes Robert laugh. Branson looks around.

BRANSON: You've got a wonderful library.

The remark does not offend Robert but it does surprise him.

ROBERT: Are you interested in books?

BRANSON: Not in books, as such, so much as what's in them.

A reading chauffeur? Unusual. Robert thinks for a moment.

ROBERT: You're very welcome to borrow books, if you wish.

BRANSON: Really, m'lord?

He is astonished and delighted. Robert nods.

ROBERT: There's a ledger over there that I make everyone use, even my daughters. Carson can tell you when the room's empty.

BRANSON: Do all the servants enjoy the same privilege?

ROBERT: I suppose they could, although I doubt they'd avail themselves of it. Carson and Mrs Hughes sometimes take a novel or two. What are your interests?

BRANSON: History and politics, mainly.

ROBERT: Heavens.
*
Well, when you come back, you should start looking in that section, there.
†

Carson has reappeared at the door.

ROBERT: Branson's going to borrow some books. He has my permission.

CARSON: Very good, m'lord.

Does Carson approve? Probably not. He looks at Branson.

BRANSON: Is that all, m'lord?

ROBERT: It is. Off you go and good luck.

Branson goes, leaving master and butler alone.

ROBERT: Well. An Irishman with an interest in politics … Are we mad?

CARSON: I could always bring in fire drill for the staff.

ROBERT: Thank you, Carson.

They share the moment.

ROBERT (CONT'D): He seems quite a bright spark after poor old Taylor.

Carson is not prepared to volunteer an opinion. Yet.

ROBERT: I always thought he was happy. Why did he want to leave?

CARSON: I believe it was
Mrs
Taylor, m'lord. She felt cut off. She wanted to live in a town.

ROBERT: But running a tea shop? I cannot feel that'll make for a very restful retirement, can you?

CARSON: I would rather be put to death, m'lord.

ROBERT: Quite so. Thank you, Carson.

With a glance at the dog, he returns to his letter.

Cora and Violet are together, drinking tea at a table under a tree.
*

VIOLET: What about some house parties?

CORA: She's been asked to one next month by Lady Anne McNair.

VIOLET: A terrible idea. She doesn't know anyone under a hundred. Find her a house with an unmarried son.

CORA: The Tenbys?

VIOLET: The eldest boy's taken. It was announced last week. Of course, most of the good ones are.

CORA: I might send her over to my aunt. She could get to know New York.

VIOLET: I don't think things are quite that desperate. Poor Mary. She's been very down in the mouth lately.

CORA: She was very upset by the death of poor Mr Pamuk.

VIOLET: Why? It's been three months.

She's genuinely puzzled. Then she remembers herself.

VIOLET (CONT'D): It was sad. But she didn't know him, and one can't go to pieces at the death of every foreigner. We'd all be in a state of collapse whenever we opened a newspaper. Of course, Mary's main difficulty is that her situation is unresolved.

But Cora only looks at her and does not weigh in.

VIOLET (CONT'D): I mean, is she an heiress or isn't she? If only it could be resolved.

CORA: Maybe it
is
resolved. How many times have you written to lawyers only to get the same answer? The entail's unbreakable. Mary cannot inherit. To be fair to Mr Murray he said it from the start.

VIOLET: The truth is, no London lawyer wants to challenge him. They feel they need Murray's permission.

But she is thinking hard.

VIOLET (CONT'D): What we need is a lawyer who is decent and honour bound to look into it, whatever Murray might say. And I … I think perhaps I know just the man.

CORA: I'd hate to go behind Robert's back.

Violet gives her a scornful look.

VIOLET: That's a scruple no successful wife can afford.

Molesley is clearing away Isobel's and Matthew's tea.

ISOBEL: Thank you, Molesley.

MATTHEW: Are you going to the fair while it's here?

MOLESLEY: I shouldn't think so, sir. But I don't mind it. I like the music.
*

Isobel has noticed that his hands are red and sore.

ISOBEL: Goodness. What's happened to your hands?

MOLESLEY: It's nothing, ma'am.

ISOBEL: But it looks very painful.

MOLESLEY: Oh, no, ma'am. Irritating more than painful.

ISOBEL: Are you using anything new? To polish the silver? Or the shoes?

MOLESLEY: No.

ISOBEL: May I?

She takes his hand and peers at it. Molesley looks awkward.

MATTHEW: Leave him alone, Mother.

Isobel pays no attention.

ISOBEL: It looks like Erysipelas. You must have cut yourself.

MOLESLEY: Not that I'm aware of.

ISOBEL: We'll walk round to the hospital tomorrow.

MOLESLEY: Really, ma'am …

ISOBEL: I insist.

Matthew and Molesley know there will be no reprieve.

Bates comes out to find William loitering in the shadows.

BATES: A penny for your thoughts.

WILLIAM: You'd be wasting your money.

BATES: It's mine to waste.

WILLIAM: I was just wondering why we get so drawn to people who have no interest in us. What's nature playing at?

BATES: If you find the answer to that, lad, you'll put the poets out of business.

Which makes William smile a little sadly.

WILLIAM: But you can't make someone love you, can you?

BATES: No. And you can't make them
not
love you, either. Which can be just as hard.

WILLIAM: I wouldn't know about that.

BATES: Not yet, maybe. But you will.

It is a new day. Anna blows her nose. Mrs Patmore is cooking.

MRS PATMORE: You've got a cold, I want you out of here.

ANNA: Blimey. I'm beginning to feel like the Ancient Mariner.

Mrs Hughes comes through the door. Anna is pouring some water from the earthenware filter.

MRS HUGHES: Anna, there you are. You know I'm out tonight? Because I don't want to come home to any surprises.

MRS PATMORE: That'll be the day.

ANNA: We thought we might go to the fair later. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Daisy?

MRS PATMORE: You ought to go. She's been that down in the mouth, since the death of poor Mr Pamuk—

DAISY: Don't say that.
*

MRS PATMORE: Well, she has.

ANNA: We could all walk down after the servants' dinner, if—

But she silences herself with another sneeze.

MRS PATMORE: You won't be walking anywhere.

She glances over to Mrs Hughes.

MRS PATMORE (CONT'D): She's got minutes to live by the sound of it.

ANNA: It's just a bit of a cold, but—

Again, the sneezing takes over.

MRS HUGHES: Go to bed at once. We can't have you spraying everyone with germs. I'll bring up a Beecham's Powder.

ANNA: Yes, Mrs Hughes.

Anna leaves.

MRS HUGHES: Right. If there's anything you want to ask me, it'll have to be before I go.

MRS PATMORE: What would I want to ask you? I am preparing a meal for Lord and Lady Grantham, and the girls. No one is visiting. No one is staying. What do I need to ask?

Mrs Hughes is not looking for a fight.

MRS HUGHES: Well, that's settled then.

She leaves. Mrs Patmore turns to her resident victim.

MRS PATMORE: What is it?